CHAPTER 20
We spend the rest of the week just bar hopping and sightseeing, and we have a lot of fun doing it. It feels different than back in America. Everything seems so much more distinguished, and proper. Like, everything’s made of metal, not plastic. Plastic is nowhere to be found. It’s an oddity in this country, and it’s strange, but it feels better. More structured, like it would take a lot more to break the people here, because their bones are made of metal, and American bones are made in China and imported there.
Ashley finds a favorite beer, and I realize halfway through the week that I don’t like beer as much as I thought I did, so I stick to bourbon. She asks me why, and I tell her it’s what my dad used to drink growing up. I told Ashley about what happened to my parents one night at the first hotel we stayed in, on our getaway weekend. She looked at me, stunned for about five minutes, then just kind of went back to doing what she was doing. She finally admitted that the story was sad enough to make her cry, but that she didn’t want to in front of me, so she had to keep herself busy. We both have fucked up lives, and the more fucked up things we find out about each other, it seems the closer we get.
“We should take a trip, get out of England for a couple of days.” Ashley says, and we’re at a bar in the middle of the day, just drinking champagne.
“Where to?”
“I don’t know. There are too many places to go. What about Berlin? I hear it’s beautiful there.”
“Okay.”
“We could fly out tomorrow, couldn’t we?”
“Berlin by plane it is then. I’ll go ahead and pay for another month at the hotel we’re at, so we won’t have to move the car or anything.”
We pack all of our things up and head to the airport, and we get the three o’ clock to Berlin. We’re sitting around the airport, people watching, and Ashley’s making up stories for every interesting person we see.
“That guy, the one in the fedora. He’s a premature ejaculator. Beats his wife though, because she laughs every time they have sex.”
“What about the girl in the pink dress?” I say, laughing every time she’s done with the story.
“Her. Well, she’s got eighteen poodles back at home, and they’re all named Charlie, even the girls. Her husband died when she was away on vacation, and his name was Charlie. But she’s always felt guilty because she was cheating on him.”
“What about the guy in the sunglasses?”
“Serial rapist. No doubt about it. You can tell by the way his hands are sitting on top of his luggage. The way he’s tapping at it with his fingers to the rhythm of the clock.”
“I don’t know how you see that one.”
“It’s a sixth sense. Or seventh sense. I know all of these people.”
“What about that guy?” I point to a man sitting down across from us, and she looks at him for a minute.
“He looks awfully familiar, doesn’t he?” She says, and I look at him a little bit longer. “That was the guy at the party. The one who sat beside me. The one who said he was observing people.
“Are you sure that’s him?”
“Almost positive.” The man sitting across from us doesn’t notice us looking at him, because he has his eyes fixed on the large clock, that’s about to strike three.
“I’d say I was going to make a story up for him, but you already know the creepy part of his life. No surprises there.”
The PA comes on and says that the plane to Berlin is now boarding, and the man sitting across from us gets up first, and walks, very uniformly over to the plane and gets on. We follow him, oddly, and get on, and the plane is very empty, at least, our part of it is. There’s us, then the man sitting in front of us a few rows up, and then to his left, a woman and her daughter, who seems very tired, because her eyes keep getting heavy until she lays her head down and goes to sleep.
“Should we say something to him?” Ashley says.
“Like what? ‘Hi, do you remember us? We were at that party that you were creeping me the fuck out at. Great to see you again.’” I say, and Ashley pokes me in the stomach.
“No, but I have a feeling we’re going to run into him. When the plane lands, he’s going to see us.”
“If we keep our heads down, we won’t run into him on the plane. If we stick back and wait until he’s off, there’s still a very small chance we’ll run into him in Berlin.”
“Why don’t we do that then?”
“Do what?”
“Follow him.”
“Follow him where?”
“When he gets off the plane, we’ll follow him. See where he goes. We can be private detectives for the week.” I think about it for a moment because for some reason, it actually sounds like fun, but then there’s a drop in the back of my throat that tells me this is a guy we shouldn’t be following. That he’d notice us following him too soon.
“I don’t know. We can follow him for a little bit. But not too long. Maybe just a couple of hours, okay?”
“Okay, I guess.” She sighs a little, but then gets a notepad out of her luggage and starts writing something. When she’s done, she hands it to me.
“I love you.” I take the pen from her hand, and write something on it and hand it to her. It says “I know.” And she giggles, and kisses me and we hold hands the entire trip, while the man in front of us never really moves. Only to check his watch occasionally.
My sophomore year of college, Patrick and I had to follow this guy around for one of his female friends to find out if he was cheating on her. It was very strange, because he would always turn around and look over his shoulder about every five minutes or so, which made him extremely hard to follow. Plus, Patrick stood out in a crowd, given how tall he was. We followed him around all day, until he went up into an apartment building that wasn’t his girlfriends, and we figured that if he was cheating on her, if she called, he would probably say he wasn’t doing anything, or at a bar or some lie, but at least she would catch him in the lie. We call her, and she calls him, and she calls us back and says that he’s hanging out with a friend at his apartment. We couldn’t doubt the truth of his statement, because we couldn’t follow him into the apartment building. It was around two in the morning that he left the place, and he walked out in a very upbeat fashion, like he was on top of the world. It turned out, his friend, was actually his heroin dealer, which wouldn’t have been as bad if he wasn’t fucking him to get the heroin. We didn’t figure any of this out, she got it out of him eventually, but thanked us for trying.
That was the last and first time I played private detective, and as much fun as it was, I had never played private detective outside of the college life. In the real world. Where this guy might be going somewhere to get drugs, or pick up a prostitute, and if he sees us, he might freak out, or we might get shot, or I might end up dead, and Ashley would get sucked into the prostitution ring of underground of Berlin, and her parents would never see her or hear from her again.
“Why follow this guy? Why not the woman and her daughter?” I whisper to her.
“They’re less interesting. Probably just going back home or something. Probably back from a boring vacation. The little girl is already asleep. Where’s the fun in that?”
“Can’t we pretend that the mother is going to sell the kid?”
“We could, but we’d be disappointed as fuck when they just go home and go to sleep.”
“What if that’s all this guy does?”
“Then we’ll just move on and have fun in Germany.”
“Remember, don’t mention the Holocaust. They don’t like to be reminded of it.”
“What did Bob Dylan say? ‘We forgave the Germans, and then we were friends. Though they murdered six million, in the ovens they fried. The Germans now too, have God on their side.’”
“Something like that.” She lays her head down in my lap and I start stroking her hair. “Are you having fun?” She says seriously.
“Yes, but I definitely think I have you to thank for that thought.”
“How come?”
“I don’t think I’ve had a dull moment with you since our first date. Even just sitting around, on a plane, I’m having fun.”
“Hmm. Now you’ve made this a challenge. Now I have to try to be as dull as humanly possible.”
“I don’t think you can.”
Her face goes blank off all emotion.
“This plane sure is long” she says in an extremely monotone voice. “I wonder how many windows are on this long, long, boring plane.”
I start laughing.
“What are you laughing at? I’m being as serious as I possibly can be at this moment in time, on this boring, boring plane.” Her monotone voice starts to crack and she starts laughing.
A man in a uniform walks down the middle of the aisle from the front of the plane, pushing a cart, asking everyone if they’d like something to eat or drink. He’s speaking the worst possible English I’ve heard yet, but we both get cokes and give him four euros. We thank him and then he passes on to the next part of the plane.
“Mine’s flat” Ashley says. I take a sip of mine and switch it with hers. “Yours is flat too. But not as flat. Thanks, honey.”
“It’s a good thing we didn’t get one of those sandwiches.”
“If we got sick, at least we’d have the flat coke to make us feel better.”
Ashley has the window seat and hogs it for the remainder of the flight. As we start to descend, she shakes my arm and I look out onto the tops of buildings, and people are scattering like ants under a magnifying glass. The plane comes to a stop at the terminal in Berlin, and I follow Ashley off, who’s essentially following the guy sitting in front of us. We keep our distance, and the guy is walking pretty slowly, but he knows where he’s going. Whereas we don’t. I start to wonder what would happen if he led us into an alley, and then turned around to see us standing there. How awkward that would be. But we keep our distance a little more, and into the city we go.
Everything we pass by looks nice, and there are Volkswagens and Mercedes on every corner. My grandpa once told me the only thing better than American made things, were German. He said in World War II, that Germany had the best of everything. Best troops, best tanks, but they had the worst position, because they were surrounded by countries who were fighting against them.
So they had to have defense on every side, and they kept it up pretty fucking well from what he told me. My grandpa was a soldier in WWII, but he was positioned in the Pacific. He said he must’ve killed thirteen Japanese, before they dropped the atom bombs on Japan. And then it was over. He said there’s nothing more enjoyable than killing someone who’s trying to kill you. He said the closest thing to it was killing a snake. Something about it makes you feel like you just killed something that if it had seen you first, it would’ve killed you instead. I can’t agree with the feeling, seeing as I’ve never killed anyone, or killed a snake for that matter.
“Where do you think he’s going?” Ashley says.
“I don’t know. He looks like he knows. I say we back off a little more.”
“Why? The worst thing he can do is turn around and see us. Then we can just say we thought it was him, and that we just wanted to see. Then we can have lunch with him. It will all be very innocent. Trust me.”
He turns around a corner, and we follow him but we don’t know where he went. There are about ten businesses on this street, and he could’ve gone into anyone of them. There’s a lawyer’s office, a barber, a masseuse, too many possibilities.
“What do we do now?” I say to Ashley.
“I say, we go get a drink. If he pops back up, we’ll follow him some more.”
We get to this pub and it’s dark as fuck inside. I can’t make out the name of anything, and the bar is empty, and the entire pub is empty, and we wonder if it’s closed, until the bartender comes from the back and welcomes us, and he speaks English, but it’s not that great, and Ashley tells him to give her the same beer she had in England, and he says that beer is a joke in Germany, and he says he’ll get her something good, free of charge. If she likes it, she can have another. I order a Manhattan, and he’s very quick with his hands. Before I know it, we have two drinks sitting in front of us, and he excuses himself and goes into the back.
“So are we giving up on the guy, or are we just taking a break?” I say to her, and she takes a sip of her beer.
“This stuff is strong, but it’s good.”
“You’re not answering my question.” She looks at me and then takes another sip of her beer.
“I say, we just wait him out. We’re bound to run into him again, I’m sure. We’ve lost him this time, but next time, we might find him. Who knows? Or cares really.” How strong is this fucking beer? She’s already tipsy. But she’s a lightweight in the first place.
Three guys come in and sit at the bar to the left of me. They’re American, and they can tell I am too. They look like artsy fucks, the type of guys who came here to paint and suck dick, so I try not to initiate conversation, but when the bartender doesn’t show up for a couple of minutes, they finally do.
“Excuse me, do you know where the bartender is?” I look at Ashley and she’s drinking the beer still.
“He went to the back right before you guys walked in. Said he’d be back in a minute.” “Okay, thanks. Are you two American?” The one in the middle, with the extremely tight pants and the extremely tight shirt says to me.
“I’m actually from Poland.”
“No, he’s not. We’re both American. Where are you guys from?” Ashley says, and I kind of want to excuse her and say she’s lying because she’s drunk, but I know they won’t buy it.
“We’re all from New Hampshire. We’re actually staying at an apartment building down the block.”
“Really? Are you guys studying abroad?” Ashley says.
“We are. Well, more like studying aguy.” They all laugh, and Ashley laughs with them, and I excuse myself to go use the bathroom.
When I come back, Ashley has switched seats with me and the bartender’s back, and they’ve all got drinks in front of them now. They’re all talking very loudly, so the bartender tries to disappear again but I catch him and ask for a whiskey sour. He makes it in seconds flat, nods, and puts it down in front of me.
“So, do you guys know of any parties happening soon? We just got to Berlin today. We’re staying in England and took the train out here to stay for the week.” She’s got a full beer in front of her but she hasn’t touched it. I’ve got my whiskey sour and I’m just sipping at it.
“There’s a party happening tomorrow night at a friend of ours. A ton of people are going to be there. No drugs though. Drugs aren’t allowed. Unless you take them beforehand. Which, most people do anyway. We’ve got some speed and coke back at the apartment if you guys want to stop by.” I’m just sitting there, while Ashley makes plans.
“Yeah, that sounds cool. What’s your number? I’ll hit you up after we get settled in here and find a place to stay.”
He gives her his number, and they continue to talk about boring things, while I chew on the straw to my whiskey sour. The bartender comes back out and asks if we want anything else to drink, and I just say the check. They talk a little while longer, and then they leave, and Ashley turns to me and says what a freak occurrence that is, running into three guys from America in a pub in Berlin. I tell her it’s fucking kismet, and she knows I’m being sarcastic, and punches me in the arm.
We walk around a little, not seeing the guy from the train, and find a hotel and she books us for the week. It’s an okay room, but it’s very simple. Those are the only rooms they have, or at least that’s what the guy at the counter says. We go up and she falls asleep from all the beer, and I take a shower, but the water’s cold, and it takes about ten minutes for it to warm up, but by the time it warms up, I’m already done showering. When I get out of the bathroom, Ashley’s naked, standing in front of the bed, and I’m still in my towel.
“So, I was just thinking…since you’re all clean and what have you. That maybe I could make you dirty again.” She laughs and so do I, because it’s one of the cheesiest dirty talk lines I’ve heard, but I pick her up, and we fuck for a while, and then when we’re done, she gets up and takes a shower, and I rifle through her purse, looking for her cigarettes.
When she comes out, I’m fully dressed, sitting in the chair by the window, with an unlit cigarette in my mouth.
“Okay, Ashley Mitchell, you must sit down and hear one of my famous stories.” I’m speaking in a French accent because it’s the only way I know to make this story romantic.
She hops on the bed and lays her head down on the pillow, and looks at me, very wide eyed and very excited.
“It’s a story about a boy and a girl, and how they met and fell in love. I tell you, it’s one of the finest stories I’ve ever told. You see, the girl met the boy at a party, and the boy was not interested, because he was very, very stupid. Then the girl ran into him, and he agreed to go on a date with him. Then, they fell in love, and went off to Europe, where they made sweet, sweet love in every hotel room they were in. The end. How do you like it?”
“It was okay, but could you talk more about the lovemaking? That’s the part that the girls like.”
“Okay, okay. I see you want more out of this story. The lovemaking was spectacular. Some of the best lovemaking the girl had ever had. She would orgasm just thinking about it.” She busts out laughing and I’m trying hard to keep a straight face.
“What about the boy?”
“The boy said it was okay, but it would be better if she had a twin, so he could make love to both of them.”
“Ha, you’re such a freak!” She throws a pillow at me, and I knock it away. “Tell me a story then. A love story.”
“All of mine are boring. Besides, you just gave my best one away.”
“Tell it from your perspective then. It would please me very much to see it from your eyes.” I hand her the cigarette, and she puts it in her mouth, and pretends to take a drag.
“There was once this boy who a girl met at a party, and she liked him very much. She thought he was the funniest boy she had ever met. So she gave him her number, in hopes that he’d call. But he never did, and that made the girl very sad. But luckily, she ran into him later, and he agreed to go on a date with her that night, and the date was wonderful. Although, she was very nervous. Then, he went to her father and demanded to take her away to Europe for a couple of months, and her father, being the protective kind, made sure that the boy knew to keep very good care of his daughter. So they went off to Europe, and underneath his jacket, he told her that he loved her, in not so many words, but they kissed, and it was splendid.
Then there were some cops involved, and the boy ended up burning down the hotel they stayed in, because little did she know, he had a knack for pyromania, and was very, very crazy. So they put him away in an insane asylum and now he can burn things all the time in his mind, because the drugs they have him on make him think he can burn anything he wants. The end.” I start laughing and she’s still taking fake drags from the cigarette.
“I think I like your version better than mine. With the burning and the police. Really spices it up.”
“That was added in for effect. None of it really happened. But the audience can never know that. It would ruin the show completely. They need to be ignorant to some things in the story. Otherwise, nobody would come back to see it. They’d tell all of their friends it sucked.”
“I agree.”