06.01 VIKTOR – Night Escape 12.7 at 20:00 – 23:30

12.7.

The humid warmth of the night clings to the skin like a second, inescapable shirt. Restless seams of light cut through the indigo sky, never quite snapping into lightning; they merely hint that they could. A muffled rhythm escapes from the open doors of clubs, the beat of a distant, foreign heart. The street feels both endless and confined, as if breathing with held-back lungs.

♫ Teardrop (Massive Attack, 0:43 – 1:12) „Love, love is a verb…“ Drums pump muffled through the walls; Viktor leans against the cold wall and his heart beats to the same tempo.

VIKTOR

I stood there like a fool, my heart pounding in my throat and my muscles trembling. Tom's words stung me like icicles. If anyone had seen me, they probably would have laughed at how I stood there, completely lost and pissed off at the whole world. I needed to disappear, to bolt somewhere where no one would judge or evaluate me. But where did my feet carry me on their own? To a porn theater.

I walked slowly, feeling every single step. My legs ached from yesterday's trip to the video booths, and even more from that quick escape from the pool. In my head, I heard Tom's words, as if they had bitten in and refused to leave. I felt betrayed, maybe even a little terrified. What if what was between us wasn't just about tension? What if there was something more there? I didn't want to admit it to myself.

When I reached Palackého náměstí, I stopped for a moment and stared at the crowded streets. People around me were rushing about their business, while I stood off to the side, trying to ignore my aching body and soul.

I got on the tram and watched my reflection in the glass. I saw a tired boy trying to be tougher than he really was. He was trying to show the world that nothing hurts him, that he's invincible. But now… now he felt every single blow.

I got off at the stop and walked the half-kilometer to the porn cinema. The street was quiet and deserted, and with every step I felt that pressure in my shoes, as if I were trying to crush that nasty feeling in my stomach.

The entrance to the porn cinema was discreet, yet noticeable to those who knew what they were looking for. I walked through the doors and left the noise of the city and my doubts behind.

I wanted to forget Tom and what had been going on between us – I wanted to clear my head in the darkness of the porn cinema. Maybe I'd find some comfort there, or at least forget my aching muscles and heart.

And maybe I'll find someone new there…

As soon as I stepped into the porn cinema, eyes immediately fell upon me. I didn't escape Milan at the bar, with a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth.

"Well, look who's here, Viktor is back, the empty vase has come to be filled!" he called out loud enough for everyone to hear.

I felt like a tough guy who had just returned from war – defeated and scarred. But I pulled myself together anyway and, with a tentative, confident smile, approached the bar to order the first drink of the evening.

Gumák and Hostivák immediately threw those scornful looks at me, as if I were some exotic creature that had come looking for their attention. Hercule Poirot slowly blew out a smoke ring and watched me from beneath half-closed eyelids. I felt sweat trickling down my back. I hated these moments when I was the center of attention, even if maybe I sometimes deserved it.

Milan leaned over the bar and in a whisper that could still be heard all the way back to the sling, muttered: "So, little whore, looking for love today, or just oblivion?"

His eyes gleamed with amusement as he poured me a shot. I knew that as soon as I turned my back to the bar, everyone would start whispering about me, and Milan would gladly tell them where he'd seen me last week and with whom.

Gumídek then snuggled up closer and whispered to me: "It's terrible what happened to you. That really sucks."

It was clear to me that news travels at supersonic speed. Nothing stays a secret here in the porn cinema for more than a few hours. I nodded with appreciation and thanked him with a look. I felt my throat tighten, but I didn't want to show it. In that crowd of elated faces, he was the one who showed me sympathy. The others acted as if nothing was happening, but only Gumídek dared to break that invisible barrier and say something human.

At the bar, Hercule Poirot, with a cigarette elegantly held between his fingers and a bored expression on his face, observed my every gesture. His eyes followed me like an X-ray; I felt them on me even when I wasn't looking in his direction. He was piercing me with his gaze as if reading my every thought and wanting to drag out of me a secret I was keeping only to myself. Hostivák was as pale as a wall and obviously a bit shaken by it all, nervously toying with a beer coaster and wiping his forehead with a handkerchief every now and then. He looked like he wanted to be anywhere else but here. Poor guy, he'll probably have a full plate of it at home again when he gets back to his wife. And Kosatec? He was, as always, absorbed in himself, sprawled at a table full of empty glasses, with that typical smirk of his that he puts on whenever he's on coke. Every now and then he'd laugh at something only he could hear, and then stare off into the void again. The atmosphere in the porn cinema was as stifling as before a storm. Everyone was waiting for something, but nobody wanted to be the one to speak.

Her words caressed me like a paper kite in a power line, when Ripley, with that irresistible laugh of hers she always has ready on her lips, wouldn't let up and started teasing: "Geez, Viktor, you show up here more often than Fernet at the bar."

I tried to laugh, but I felt more like that kite that doesn't want to get caught and yet knows it's constantly being watched.

Miss Mindey was the only one who gave me a little love. She surrounded me with care like a mother her young, and when she saw me staggering under the weight of my thoughts, she stepped up to me and with a smile that can melt even the coldest day, she told me: "Don't take it to heart."

Then she gently raised her hand and ran her fingers through my hair, as if she wanted to dispel all my worries and fears.

Štěpánek remarked: „What's up, little ass? Did they send you home again?“

He looked amused, and I couldn't do anything except raise an eyebrow and try to force a smile. His wrinkled face stretched into a wide grin that revealed his yellowed teeth. I knew he was just teasing me, but his words still reminded me of all those nights when I came back empty-handed. With my fingers, I nervously played with the hem of my jacket and tried to ignore that familiar feeling in my stomach.