Aftermath

Originally published on June 6, 2007.

Anyone who’s had much contact with Czech station and/or rent boys knows that they have no shame. They can’t afford to, really.

Breederboy‘s boyfriend Laco was furious the instant he heard what had happened. Of course, he had been warning me for weeks that Marek was “not correct” for me and he had never liked Arssi. Sp Laco had dragged me around all over Prague looking for the two of them and would not be dissuaded even when I told him my energy and anger had run out. Laco’s small but I’d seen him take out much bigger guys with a flurry of fists. So we sat in the Kavarna waiting to see if they would show up.

Both Marek and Arssi were back at the station yesterday. Both in the Kavarna but separately. In the late morning I made an attempt to talk to Marek, who was in full thug-boy mode, but he was not responsive. He didn’t know anything about the phone — but, of course, he expressed no surprise that it was missing — said he didn’t know where Arssi was and that, further, he didn’t want to speak to me.

That clinched it. I told Ovi to go get the cops and waited next to Marek at his table in the Fantova Kavarna. If he had given just a little hint that he wanted to communicate like a human being and not like a stereotype then that would have been an opening, a way forward. However, his attitude, which I fully expected, just rekindled the anger I’d felt the night before, and which had been dissipated by writing the post yesterday.

Ovi went off and Marek tried his best to seem unconcerned. One of his “friends” at his table asked me what he had done and I told him. Then he, and the rest of them, got up and left the table. Not because they were expressing disapproval of Marek’s actions but because they didn’t want to have anything to do with the police.

Marek stayed put but kept shooting sideways glances towards the stairs where the police would be coming. One of his older friends encouraged him to get the hell out of there and he eventually did, running for the back doors that led out onto the train platforms.

I didn’t try to stop him. I don’t want to hurt him and I didn’t want to get into a physical confrontation where my anger might get the best of me. Truthfully, I was relieved and had been hoping he’d make a break for it anyway. Involving the generally useless Czech cops is distasteful in itself. (Indeed, Ovi could not get the station cops to come up at all; he had to go outside looking for city cops.) Yet I was goaded by Marek’s indifference.

Arssi was a slightly different story. 

He eventually did arrive, coming up the stairs but going back down again as soon as he saw me — not exactly the behavior of a non-guilty person nor his normal behavior, which is to come up and ask me for money. As soon as Laco saw him, he and Ovi took off down the stairs after him. There was a small confrontation.

Ovi and Laco brought him up to the Kavarna to talk to me. He was extremely agitated, wild-haired and bug-eyed from pervitin use and defensive as hell. He insisted he didn’t take the phone — like Marek, he wasn’t surprised that it was gone — and that he didn’t know where Marek was or if he had taken the phone.

I asked him why he’d left via the window if he hadn’t taken it. He really had no answer for that, but told two different versions of the same story. We eventually let him go. He insisted that he had to go take care of his Czech client. Interesting that he’d suddenly had a renewed interest in making his own money again.

Ovi and Laco both looked at me expectantly and asked me if I wanted them to take care of him. That is, beat the shit out of him. Others may be squeamish about such things but if someone wants to volunteer to put Arssi in the hospital on my behalf — preferably breaking a few fingers — I have no moral qualms whatsoever about it.

The issue is not money or phones; it’s loyalty. Arssi twisted that logic himself, trying to tell me that there was no way he would steal from me, a friend of his for over two years and who had helped him almost every day since, even when I was homeless myself.

In other words, my friendship and care for him was evidence in and of itself that he would never steal from me. That’s the sort of fucked-up value system that’s in place here. So, putting a message across, in their own language, so to speak, to any other station trash who might think about stealing from me or anyone else I know sounds like a very good idea. In the old days, early and mid-90s, if a rent boy stole from a client the other boys got together and kicked his ass, for professional reasons. Nowadays, when the country is actually richer, there seems to be even less honor among the thieves and whores.

Regardless, I told Ovi and Laco to calm down, that mostly I didn’t want to see them get in trouble. Arssi will get his eventually. But he has permanently lost any claim on my loyalty and kindness, just as George did when he stole my camera. There will be no help from me for Arssi forever.

As for Marek, who knows? Everyone who knows me and knows how I feel about him thinks I will forgive him and take him back. That’s my hunch, too. I still think he’s a good kid, an interesting kid with an attractive heart. Although the consensus among my friends seems to be that Marek is the big criminal here, I contend that I’m the only one who knows him intimately, knows everything that went on between us, and therefore I’m the most qualified to judge him, even taking into account my huge infatuation.

I maintain that he stole from me for philosophical reasons, if you will, not for money, not for a fucking phone. He was wrong, both to do it, and in his implied condemnation of me, but he’s not stupid and he’s not simple.

I don’t think it’s over either.

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