Marek came back

Originally published on June 6, 2007.

He came back of his own volition.

BB and I were sitting in the station Kavarna, and Marek appeared. He walked over and sat in front of me, smiled, said hello, then hung his head. Then he looked up and started talking. He wanted to know where I’d been sleeping for the last three days. I told him the park, as usual.

“No wit friends?” he asked.

“No,” I said.

He wanted to know why not. I just shrugged.

He hung his head again. Kept asking the same questions. How I was. What I had been doing.

Missing you like crazy, I thought, but wasn’t about to say.

He said he thought I was angry with him and wouldn’t speak to him.

To ne pravdu,” I answered. It’s not true.

Taky ne,” he said, also not true, pointing to his chest and hanging his head again. “I want to sleep with you tonight, ok?” he said, in Slovak.

Ano, no problem.”

Dobre,” he said, looking up and smiling.

That was pretty much that. Conflicts with boyfriends and lovers in Chicago had never resolved so smoothly.

On the way to my camp site we talked constantly. He’s gotten very good at slowing down and pronouncing every word, and using simple words. It’s still Czech/Slovak but baby Czech/Slovak for my benefit.

He reiterated that everyone told him that I was angry with him and that I didn’t want to talk to him.

I said it wasn’t true. He just shook his head and said, “Station. Ne dobre.”

Station drama is no good, I agreed.

As we were setting up the sleeping bags and spraying our shoes with deodorant, he kept talking. He told me to stop and smoke a cigarette. I did and he asked me if I had thought we were not friends. I said I thought maybe not. He shook his head and said, yes, we were friends.

He wanted to make his point clear: He thought I didn’t want to talk to him.

I made my point clear: I thought he didn’t want to talk to me.

He shook his head and took a long drag. I didn’t use the L word but I told him, “Mam rad ty a ja spolu.” I like you and me together.

Ja taky,” he came back immediately. Me too.

Then we got in our respective bags and pulled the third spatsak over our heads like a tent. It was hot but he threw his arm over my shoulders and pulled me into him. His eyes were open and he was grinning. We talked some more. He told me a little more about his background. How his father kicked him out, how his mother had not defended him. (On other, later occasions, he reversed who had done the kicking.)

Children are chucked out on their own regularly here and he’s been on his own for a long while, which might explain what he said next.

He said, “Ty a ja spolu teras. Ty a ja spolu stale.” You and me together now. You and me together always.

I loved him for it.

He squeezed me harder and brought me closer to his face. I kissed him and kissed him some more. He was breathing hard and shallow and so was I. My arm around him, our faces close.

“Is really hot,” he said.

I knew we were on the precipice of sex but I didn’t think it appropriate. I continued kissing him and kept talking and we eventually fell asleep with our arms around each other. In the park, alone in our bags.

I can’t believe I’m so chaste. Maybe regular readers can’t either. But I want to go about this the right way and with the right timing. He’s not stupid; he has his eyes on the prize — a place to live and someone to take care of him.

He says all the right things. He says more than he has to say and when he says them, he speaks eloquently.

I would also respect a completely mercenary approach to our relationship. I wouldn’t mind paying him extra every time we had sex. That doesn’t seem to be how it’s developing though. I’ve wanted him to come to me on his own terms. I’ve been trusting in that, but I don’t know exactly why.

It’s a risk. I could be stuck with a live-in who gives me a constant boner but never puts out or gets it up.

Judging from that night I was describing and the equally chaste night we spent yesterday in BB’s bed, I’m betting I don’t have much to worry about.

[Note: Eda, the manager of Pinocchio, offered to put up Marek and me until we could get into our own flat. I kept that fact on the downlow when I write this originally.]

Over at BB’s, we laid together and talked. He likes to talk.

He examined my tattoos. We’d never been naked together and in bed, and not drunk, and with enough light to see each other.

He liked my tats. He said he wanted a tiger on his back. He asked me if it was all right if he took off his underwear.

He grinned at me when I said yes, “Ne vadí.”

I gave him a massage. We wrestled a bit. When I reached down to slap his belly I grazed the tip of his hard dick sticking up from his crotch. Okay, it was on purpose. I wanted to know what was going on down there.

I grabbed it and flipped it around playfully in my palm, slapped it against his belly.

He laughed and asked what I was doing.

Playin’, I said.

We played some more but settled down eventually. He turned over on his belly and slung his arm over onto my back, hard but friendly, not like he was naked in bed with a lover, but like he wanted me to know he knew what was going on and I could go farther if I wanted.

I’m waiting for him and it suprises me that I don’t mind at all.

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