Life in Ink and Footsteps

Girl, you are being dramatic. Clickbait much? It’s not as if you created this whole thing based on nothing but your imagination. Yes, I do talk to myself. I believe that it is a common occurrence for many people. If not, don’t tell me. Let me be delusional.

But I did lie. Unknowingly at the time, but I did. And I do apologize for that; it wasn’t my plan to pull your leg. What? That I should stop hinting and start talking? Geez, fine. Here we go. I mentioned in one of the first entries that I met other girls at the training school and that they were not important because I never met them again. And that was a lie. I did meet one of them again. And I forgot it. Which can’t be surprising at this point. The number of things I no longer remember is growing with every passing page. It would be more surprising if I did remember for once. Well, I do feel slightly bad about this one because the girl was from the Czech Republic as well. Yes, I forgot the only other Czech person I met in the whole year while I lived in the US. Okay, that is another lie; I saw several others, but I have not talked to them. I’ll circle back to it later.

For now, let’s concentrate on B. She was unique. And not in the most polite way of saying. She was slightly too weird for me at that time. Which is hilarious because now? Now we would have so much in common. B. didn’t wear makeup or a bra; she preferred to walk in barefoot shoes or barefoot in general. She cared for the earth and equality. I am sure she was a feminist and probably fought for a clean ocean as well. I didn’t ask her those questions, but in my head now, it would suit her well. She was that kind of woman. 8 years ago tho, this was not exactly my cup of tea. But I also saw that she was kind, caring, and had a brain in her head, which was a pleasant change from some of the girls I talked to at the school. It’s funny how perspectives shift with time; what once seemed eccentric now feels like a mirror of my own values. Oh, the power of self-reflection that comes with the old age of 29.

But back to B. I remember her being nervous about this program; her English was not good even to my very low standards. But her family was Czech-American, and they wanted their au pair to communicate mostly in Czech so that the children would learn the language as well. Which was both great and terrible. Great because she couldn’t speak well, terrible because she wouldn’t have many chances to improve. We spent the guided trip to NYC together and promised each other we would visit. She was about to live in Boston afterall, just a short bus ride from New York.

And so she visited me at the beginning of December for a weekend. It was not the greatest weekend I had. And I do remember small snippets now. Mostly awkward and uncomfortable situations and energy. Not because I didn’t like her or that she turned out to be a despicable human being. But her English was truly very poor. Which I didn’t know or realize was that bad. So I planned a Saturday trip to the city with our French sunshine C. Oh, but before that, I should also mention that it all began poorly on Friday night when I picked her up at the station. We went to the Rockefeller Center to see the famous Christmas tree. I always watch Home Alone during Christmas time – because who doesn’t, am I right? I was super excited, and everything was beautiful. Except for the fact that the tree was turned off. I don’t know why. It was already dark and all other lights were lit. But not the tree, no sir. The saddest thing is, I didn’t have a chance to see it lit up. Somehow the holidays went by and I didn’t go to the city again and see it. So my only memory is the sad, empty feeling I had while watching the dark tree. I’m sure that’s how Kevin felt when he thought he was all alone on Christmas morning. So, as you can see, bad sign already. And it got only worse from there.

The moment C. joined us on the train to the city on Saturday morning, it was obvious that it was going to be a difficult day for all of us. B. didn’t say almost anything throughout the day; I guess she was embarrassed to speak in a language that she didn’t feel comfortable in. C. was trying to be polite and curious about our new company and get her into the conversation, while I wiggled in between as a translator. Remember, my English was getting better, but handling real-time translation and bilingual communication was proving to be above my skills. At one moment, they kind of just stopped trying to talk to the other. So I spent a bit of time talking with this one in English and then a bit of time talking with the other one in Czech. Or translated the interesting parts because I felt guilty that one of them was constantly being ignored. Let me tell you, that shit was tiring. So C. decided to ditch us and go with some other people. But at this point, it was too late. My phone died, it was a cold, rainy, and foggy day in NYC, and B. was upset and uncommunicative even in Czech. So we went home. We ate dinner with the family, but that didn’t get much better. The mum, my new bestie already, is the kindest and most welcoming human I have ever met, and she tried hard to be welcoming to this young woman who was just gloomy and in a poor mood the whole time. I mean, I understand why now. The feeling of not being able to get better for someone so smart and independent must have been not only embarrassing but also discouraging. Being seen as a burden and a good-time ruiner – which I didn’t think she was, but I know she did – must have been hard for her. But I also remember my old self being embarrassed by her for not even trying to communicate with the mum, who let her stay in her house, fed us both, and was just welcoming and caring. It was frustrating.

We went to Michael’s after food so that we could get out of the house, do something nice, and have a chance to clear the air. We spoke in Czech the whole time, and the mood got marginally better, but we both kinda knew that this was not all that pleasant an experience for either one of us. I am slightly embarrassed to admit that I was glad when it was all over, and I dropped her off at the station the next day. I have not seen her ever again. And I do believe that that is a shame; I would like to know how she is doing now if she stayed the whole year or maybe longer. If she improved her language skills and got over her fears. If she still doesn’t like to wear makeup and enjoys crafts. I think we would have a lot to talk about. But I have no idea how to find her. Well, the universe works in mysterious ways; so who knows, maybe one day.

After she left and I let out a deep breath, I went to a Czech consulate. There was a concert for the Czech community. It was a Christmas concert with traditional songs played and sung. I sat there alone, kind of hiding from all the other people. Reflecting on how far I’ve come and how the things that once seemed so important now feel like distant memories. I didn’t want to talk with anyone, I didn’t want to explain who I was. Some part of me didn’t want to feel like it belonged somewhere. Let alone among the Czechs. I was a new person now; I was living in America, my English was great, and that was my new home. Not this. See? I did circle back to the fact I met other Czech people, even if I didn’t talk with them. They were the last ones during my stay in America.

So I sat in the back row, listening, pretending like I didn’t care. Crying. Alone and lonely. Just like Kevin.

There is only one Czech artist in that whole playlist. And he kind of fits here.
Chybíš mi – Tomáš Klus