AN HOUR LATER Adam and Katja were sitting at a kiosk on the campground, they were eating langos and drinking coffee and cola. Katja was wearing the straw hat, the box with the turtle had been set between their chairs.
“Are you mad at me?”
“You shouldn’t have told her about that. She doesn’t believe us anyway.”
“About what a hero you are?”
“I don’t trust her. She doesn’t need to know stuff like that. Besides, it sounded made up.”
“But she was so nice, so friendly.”
“Friendly like a cat—you need to be careful.”
“I didn’t catch on—that she’s the ‘bad company.’ I really thought she was your friend.”
“I don’t know why she’s so goddamn friendly all of a sudden.”
“And Michael? Who’s he?”
“Her cousin, her cousin from the West. She claims that he’s her marriage ticket out. At any rate they’ve invited us to the wedding.”
“When?”
“Ah, it’s all a lot of hot air.”
Over the loudspeaker Bobby McFerrin announced: “Don’t worry, be happy.” The people at the next table snapped their fingers in time.
“He’s old, midforties maybe. Has a big mouth, plays the big shot if the service is a little slow, gives women perfume, and if he’s pissed off, he says ‘Merde.’ If it weren’t for him, this whole mess would never have happened.”
“What mess?”
“They stole the perfume from Evi, from her locker or wherever she’d put it—eh, it’s a long story.”
“I don’t get it.”
“Me either. She quit her job, on the spot, and then, because I still had stuff to do and was waiting for my new car, she took off with him—with her and with him.”
“And you right behind them?”
“Me right behind them.”
“And why didn’t she want to wait?”
“I told you, she took something the wrong way.”
“And now all three of them are staying with people you know here?”
“Actually they’re friends of Evi’s, I’ve never been here before. She got to know Pepi in Jena, the first year she studied there, and Pepi spent two weeks with us last year.”
Katja stared into her cup. “This stuff used to be called mocha.”
“You want another one?”
“Sure, but this time if possible with milk. And a little more of it.”
Adam went to the counter. The woman in front of him had very fair skin, except for red shoulders and ears. He ordered coffee and bought some bread, cold cuts, cheese, and water.
When he came back two teenagers with freckles and coppery hair were sitting at their table. They were eating ice cream.
“You shouldn’t buy that stuff here,” the one with tight curls said. “You need to drive into town, get it at the super. Damn expensive even there. But here, no sirree. Wurst used to cost a little under four forints, that was socialism. Now they want three times that!”
“There are still tents here from people who took off over the border last Saturday,” Katja said.
“Every once in a while we use that Trabi there, the key’s in the ignition. We always park it back in front of the tent, but nobody ever shows up, and it’s getting pretty grungy in there!”
“We broke into one car because of a bird inside,” said the other kid, who blushed when he spoke.
“It would have died of thirst otherwise,” the curly-haired one said.
“I’m going to be on my way,” Adam said, once Katja had finished her coffee. He picked up the box with the turtle. “I’ll be back tomorrow.”
“I’ll walk with you part way,” Katja said and picked up the groceries from the table. “Bye, guys,” she said to the two boys.
“So long,” they said, stood up, and would have shaken hands with Katja if she hadn’t had both hands full.
“Think your money will last you?” Adam asked.
“We’ll see how close a check they keep. I can pay one night for now.”
“I’ll look in tomorrow about this time.”
“You’ll see. When I have to be, I’m a goat—I can get along on nothin’.”
Adam placed the bottle of water, which he had held for her, back on top of the pile.
“I’ll miss you, Elfi,” Katja said.
“She’ll miss you too,” Adam said.
Simone had sketched a map on the back of his note with the address. He drove back to the main road, first turned left, and at the church took another hard left onto Római út.
Even from a good distance, he recognized Evelyn’s white poplin skirt with the red polkadots, the one he’d made for her last Easter. Actually it was meant to be worn with a matching headband. It was fabric left over from Desdemona. Michael was walking alongside Evelyn. Adam passed them but didn’t turn around. He now found the green arrow with an 8 on it, took a right, and drove up the long driveway lined with bushes and trees and a shed.
Adam stopped in front of the house and got out. He watched the two of them approach him. They weren’t saying a word. Evelyn was walking a little faster now. When Adam tried to give her a hug, she went stiff and backed away.
“Hello,” Adam said. “Simone said I could have our tent, and her sleeping bag and air mattress, since you all have rooms.”
“Yes, sure. You want them right now?”
“I was planning to set it up here in the garden—”
“Here?”
Michael had arrived by now. Adam shook the hand extended to him.
“The campground is way too expensive.”
“You can’t be serious.”
“Why not?”
“You still don’t get it, do you? That I want to be left alone and not be constantly afraid that you’re lurking round the next corner?”
“And so what should I do, in your opinion?”
“You,” Evelyn said, stressing every word, “should just go away!” She left him standing there and disappeared behind the house. Michael stared at the ground, gave him a quick nod, and followed her with their beach bag.
Adam got into the car. He turned around and drove back slowly. There was already a short line at the gas station. A Shell tanker was parked between the pumps. Adam pulled in behind the last car. He rolled down the window, took a deep breath, and rubbed his chest. At least he knew how he’d be spending the next hour.