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The breakthrough
I stood streetwise watching. They were from The Netherlands—or perhaps Denmark. No one else could manage a bike in the city like that.
Each of them sat atop a yellow bike. Like offshoots of stems of tulips. Together they formed an impenetrable lattice.
But I managed to make it to the other side.
As the story goes
It happens at the same time every day. Participants rush from work to make it on time.
There’s never enough parking. Shirt tails are tucked in behind open car doors. Flowers are given to lovers and mothers.
Then a visit with the greatest Czech ever.
He called it a night
There had been too many drinks the night before. But it was our honeymoon, and the veranda overlooked Praslin’s Côte d’Or.
We learned of the accidental death that morning. Through the side of the glass of rum and Coke, I could see the Gekko’s now embalmed body.
The question was who would pour him out.
In hot water
I wanted to be Dad number two to them. And I also wanted to prove the world wrong.
Lukáš and Marek loved frankfurters for breakfast. Into the boiling water they went—still encased in their plastic packaging. Marek struggled to see into the pot.
His curious attempt told me we weren’t off to a good start.
A matter of life and death
The noise coming from the basement grew louder. We had seen enough episodes of Darkroom to know what was next.
We paged Dad with the home phone number and 911. Kim and I huddled together while Dad rushed home. We could hear a shovel banging against concrete.
Dad came out of the basement. The stray squirrel had been taken care of.
The vantage point
The other kids told over-the-top stories about Mrs. Arthur. Half the class made fun of her, the other half of us sat in bewilderment.
She’d spittle when she talked and her long gray hair would get caught in the corners of her mouth until she fixed it into a ponytail. And before she reviewed our drawings she’d have to search for her glasses on the chain around her neck.
She believed in my still life sketches all the way to the county fair.
At checkout
They saved a case of Mattoni for me as they usually do each week. I expected to see Manny when I went to pick it up.
His wife sat behind the register wrapped in her faux-fur winter coat. She had not noticed her misapplied makeup. I leaned in to pay and heard a droning sound.
It continued pumping. My eyes darted away.
Lost in translation
I was studying at university in Boston. My sister and her boyfriend came to see what it was all about—and to visit Cheers.
Unshaken by the reputation of Boston drivers, they rented a car. The agent ticked boxes and initialed a stack of paperwork—then something about “Pahk the cah in Havad Yad.”
Kim stared at me and asked me to translate.
Out of frame
It was our favorite kind of day—the kind where we didn’t have to sit at our desks.
I wasn’t chosen to advance the filmstrip that day. Then I saw the topic was about how to brush your teeth. That must have been why.
I wedged myself in among the others on the floor.
Splattered
The blood stain on the ceiling was small enough not to be large. I doubt anyone working there had noticed—it could only be seen by lying down in this very spot.
The nurses talked with each other about how I was too young to be here. But I could only focus on the stain and the overpowering disinfectant. A shield was placed over my chest.
Had something gone horribly wrong for them?