Marek does biznis

Originally published on June 6, 2007.

Marek said nothing when he went off with the Czech punter. Not “can I” not “should I”, not any word at all. He smiled and raised his eyebrows at me when Arssi asked him to come over and meet the punter; I said nothing. He went anyway.

As they were sitting there chatting Marek kept shooting me dark, sideways glances. We were only two tables apart. I put on my sternest face, I hoped. At one point I raised my chin at him, questioning. He looked at me, shook his head and mouthed “Nic.” None of that stopped him from shaking hands with the man and going off with him. Without a word to me as to what he was doing or when he’d be back.

I was sitting with BreederBoy at the time and as soon as they left I went off after them. Ran actually, cursing. Stupid. I came to my senses and returned to the table, where I told Arssi that he and I were finished, that Marek and I were finished.

What I should have done was prevent him from getting up at all. Or maybe not. Judging from the way he reacted later I’m not sure.

Breederboy and I went off to eat and discussed everything. I won’t go into our arguments. My apologetic for Marek is that if he’s truly been on the streets since he was 15 I don’t think there can be a reasonable comparison drawn between his values and mine. You acquire stable values by having a stable environment. To be clear, I don’t think that in his mind he’d done anything wrong, or perhaps he was paying me back from handing him over to Albi the other week.

Steve and I went back to the station and Marek was there in the Kavarna with his friends. A short biznis. He smiled and lifted one hand to greet me. I nodded but otherwise ignored him and went to sit on the other side of the Kavarna. We didn’t speak the rest of the night, although he kept looking at me. Of course, I couldn’t help but look at him as well. A silly passive/aggressive display. Not a great way to negotiate our first crisis.

He eventually left with a big group of his station buddies, without a glance back, without a word.

The next day he stayed away from the Kavarna. Arssi tried several times to get him to come up from where he was hanging with his friends on the first floor. He wouldn’t come. Arssi mimicked Marek’s rolling eyes. In hindsight, I think he was angry at my jealousy but my own emotional distress kept me from seeing this. After several hours in the Kavarna, hoping he would come up, I went down to see him.

He was still there sitting around the druggie pillars near the first floor toilets. He saw me coming and held my gaze. I could see easily that he was angry. After a week of seeing nothing but his easy smile, it was hard to look at. I nodded at him. He nodded at me. I went to the toilet.

Coming out I tried to get him to come and speak with me privately. He wouldn’t. I stood in front of him and asking him what he was doing tonight. He said, hanging out with his friends. One of his friends, a old gypsy homeless guy, looked me up and down with mild contempt and amusement. I left, embarrassed, went back to the Kavarna to spend my remaining 50 Kč and top off my buzz.

Pavel eventually came in, sat down and asked me how I was. I said špatný. I told him why. He said that before he left with his client he’d go and speak to Marek. We all — Pavel, me, Milan and Pavel’s client – sat around and got drunker for about an hour.

Then I saw Marek at the top of one of the stairs. Arssi, busy with another client, on the other side of the Kavarna, immediately went up to him and began gesturing back toward me. Marek had already spotted me before Arssi spoke to him. He was still looking at me. But he didn’t go any farther into the Kavarna. So Pavel went over and spoke to him for a bit. A few minutes later Pavel brought Marek back to the table.

He still wasn’t smiling but he was at least talking to me, telling me through Pavel that he wasn’t angry but he wanted to be with his friends tonight. Tomorrow we could be spolu, 100%, and sleep together. I told him it was no problem. He just had to tell me what he wanted.

Just the day before, while at dinner I could tell that he was a little antsy and suggested that he spend some time with his friends. Although initially accepting, by the time we got back to the station he’d evidently changed his mind. He ended up coming back with me to sleep in the park.

I have no problem with his wanting to spend time with people his own age. He just has to let me know. I’m resigned to the fact that I can’t overnight change whom he associates with and as long as we’re both homeless I can’t see that either of us have a choice in that.

But he’s like any other 19-year old boy, he doesn’t want to answer to anyone. That he actually has never had to answer to anyone, ever, just makes roping him in that much more difficult, even if it’s for his own good and even if he wants the end result himself.

He reiterated to Pavel that he still wanted to move in with me on the 23rd, a date which he’s obviously memorized and that he still wanted us to be together.

He said it; he just didn’t act like it.

He also denied doing biznis with the Czech man. He said all they did was have dinner and talk. Possible. Milan had told me earlier that this man has a history of taking boys and not paying. Regardless, after staying a bit at the table, at an unusual distance from me, he said he wanted to go hang out with his friends and was off.

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