She held up a Tuzex bag. “Shopping. I got something for your father. Remy, no less. Not cheap, either, even with dollars.”
“That’s the last thing he needs.”
“I know, but it’s what he’ll want.”
“That was nice.”
“We didn’t take anything yesterday. You know, for a house present. So I figured-” She smiled at him. “I’m a well-brought-up girl.”
“You could have fooled me.”
She grinned. “Yeah. Well.”
“So you’ve been busy.”
“A little bee. What about you? Have you been here all day?”
“No. I took a walk. Down by the river.”
He watched, expecting to see her hesitate, but she was fishing for something in her bag. Not a nicker. “Look what else I got.” She held up tickets. “Laterna Magika. The hit of the Czech pavilion.”
“The Czech what?”
“You know, at Expo, in Montreal. Don’t be dense. Everybody’s heard of them. We can’t go without seeing Laterna Magika.”
“Yes, we can.”
“No, really, they’re good. I promise you. Don’t you like mimes?”
“I didn’t mean that.” He reached into his shirt pocket for the other tickets. “Benny Goodman. My father got them.”
“You’re kidding.”
“He’s very big here. So I’m told.”
She sat next to him on the bed, taking the tickets. “What time? Maybe we can go after. Anna looks like the early-to-bed type.” She slipped the tickets onto the bed. “Okay, no Magic Lantern. He’s full of little surprises, isn’t he?”
“All the time.”
“What happened today?”
“Nothing. That was the surprise. We didn’t even get to talk.”
“So do you want to go out? Do something?”
“No.”
“Nothing?” She leaned over him. “We have the afternoon.”
“Let me think about it.”
“I only do it once, you know.”
“What?”
“Seduce you. After that you have to ask.”
He looked at her. What had she really said on the bridge?
“So ask,” she said, bending to him.
When he reached up to her he was sure again, the feel of her skin as familiar now as his own.
It was late when they woke up, the bed tangled again from lovemaking, and they had to hurry to dress. The concert hall was nearby, in the New Town, and it seemed his father was right-the bright doorways were crammed with people, a mix of middle-aged suits and young people in jeans. Everybody loved Benny. Prague, usually so reserved, almost sullen, had turned noisy and eager. Inside, people shouted to each other over the crush, passing beers along from the lobby bar, and Nick wondered if the high spirits themselves were a kind of defiance, if simply listening to American jazz, even thirty-year-old jazz, had become a political act. But the mood, whatever its source, was contagious, and for the first time he began to look forward to the evening, ready for a good time.
His father and Anna were already in their seats, looking slightly frumpy in the younger crowd. Why such a public meeting, where everyone could see? Or was this part of the plan too, something that could be verified later? Anna was friendly, pleased to see them, but his father seemed preoccupied, as if he already regretted having come, bothered by the noise. When the lights blinked on and off, no one paid any attention, still talking in the aisles. Then the curtains opened on the band playing ‘Let’s Dance’ and there was a roar of recognition applause and a scrambling for seats. An emcee appeared at the mike, speaking Czech, then Benny in English saying how happy he was to be here, then the opening notes of ‘Don’t Be That Way’, more applause, and the evening, in this unlikely place, began to swing.
The music was wonderful. It was the standard program-next the ‘King Porter Stomp’-but the audience made it seem fresh, their enthusiasm flowing up to the band with such force that Nick saw some of the sidemen grin, bending into their instruments to send it back. “You Turned the Tables on Me‘, with its funny, innocent lyrics. How many of them knew what the words meant? But the music, just as they always said, was its own language, and the audience was answering it, some actually tapping their feet, squirming in their seats to the beat. Nick thought they might leap up to dance, and he saw that in the back of the hall, where the bar was, some of them had. Upstairs in the ring of boxes there were men in bulky suits, Party bureaucrats, their wives fat and shining with costume jewelry, but the crowd on the floor ignored them. There were no uniforms anywhere. Just the music, an official time-out. ”Elmer’s Tune’, where the gander meandered. American music, the happiness of it, as much a part of him as childhood stories. He smiled at Molly, who was drumming her fingers.
