Amsterdam Thirty: Goodbye Girl

I woke determined to go to Eik en Linde. I needed a good breakfast and say goodbye. I showered, dressed, grabbed my coat, and left. Shockingly, it was dry and partly sunny. It wasn’t even that cold. Not bad for my last full day in Amsterdam.

I walked down Entrepotdok to the bridge crossing the canal. I discovered that the street I had been walking all month was called Plantage Kerklaan. As I passed the zoo I came to the street where Eik en Linde was. Its name was Middenlaan. The streets I walked most had previously been nameless to me. Strange. I waited for a tram to pass then crossed the street. I saw a smattering of regulars, including Peter, as I stepped through the doorway. Kasper was behind the bar.

“Hey, Kasper,” I said. “Ham en kaas uitsmijter mit tomaten en coffee.” Kasper nodded and walked to the end of the bar to place the order. When he came back he asked if I was feeling better. It was the first time I had been back since the afternoon after visiting the hospital. “Ja, I’m good. No problems.” He smiled, winked, and gave me a pat on the arm. “Good to hear.” I talked with Peter—he was sitting in my seat, damnit!—and we got into a rambling conversation. I wasn’t sure we were talking about anything which was the norm.

“So, you’re leaving us, Michael?”

“Yup, I’m flying away tomorrow.”

Peter leaned back, seemingly satisfied with himself, and said, “I knew I’d wear you out eventually.”

“You certainly did. I was going to stay until August, but I moved up my flight for the sake of my sanity.”

“You’re sane?! I had no idea.”

“I’ve been keeping it a secret. I get away with a lot more since everyone thinks I’m crazy.”

Peter smirked and I looked up at the backward running clock. A little after eleven. Well, one good thing about sitting on the other side of the bar was not having to crane my neck to see the clock. I loved and hated that clock. It was a delectable ornament, a unique artifact that gave Eik en Linde just that much more character, but it caused me consternation on a few occasions when I forgot that it was a backwards running clock.

I said to Peter, “You’ve had a deleterious effect on my health.”

Peter rolled his eyes, “Oh, Jesus, I won’t miss that.”

“What?”

“Your accusations against me using English words I don’t know. I’m doing you a favor, you know. How often do I splash Dutch words at you expecting you to understand?”

“What, 'deleterious'? It means ‘harmful.’”

Peter turned his head and raised a hand to the heavens. “You could have just said that, you know?”

I hadn’t meant to fuck with him, but now that he was protesting, well … "Where would the fun be in saying that?"

Kasper brought my uitsmijter. He’d brought my coffee a little earlier. He was busy, but he quickly asked, “Did I hear you say you’re leaving tomorrow?” I nodded my head then said, “I’m coming back mid-January, though.” Kasper gave me a thumbs up and said, “Hey, don’t leave without saying goodbye, okay? It’s pretty busy right now.” No problem and Kasper went on his way.

Peter had been rambling on and on about something while I was talking to Kasper. I thought he had been talking to the craggy white-haired fellow sitting at the crown of the curly Q, but that wasn’t the case. I took a sip of my coffee, but before taking a bite of food I said to Peter, “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Peter responded, “That’s evident. As usual, you’re all over the map, like a nomad searching for a shadow of a memory you’re not sure you ever had.”

That about knocked me off my stool. “You’re talking gibberish about nothing again, aren’t you?”

“‘Nothing’ must be ‘something’ even as a reference to nothing. In other words, the word and the definition of the word are something as representations.”

I nodded, impressed. “You know, for a guy who talks about nothing you actually know some things. Look at you with your fancy English words.”

“Thank you. It’s about time I received a compliment from you.” Peter smiled and took a drink of his beer. I wondered how many beers Peter had already had. Peter continued, “I’d been concerned you were one of those people who use black to define white or answer questions like ‘What is this?’ by saying ‘It is not that.’”

I shook my head and said, “I’d need to drink heavily to catch up with this conversation.”

Peter was animated, rising up out of his seat while saying, “I’m building concepts over here and you’re sitting over there throwing sand in the air wondering why a sandcastle hasn’t appeared!”

I laughed. “It’s my last day in Amsterdam, Peter. I’m not going to be building anything today. But,” I paused, “when I return in January you can teach me something about nothing.”

“You know nothing?” Peter asked with his characteristic dry wit.

I stared at him blankly. “I know something. Or some things.”

“Ah, this is what the play was about, I think.”

“What, Waiting for Godot?”

Peter said, “No, no, no. Shakespeare. Much Ado about Nothing.”

I shook my head. “I will miss you while I’m gone, Peter.”

Peter, seeming to tire and averse to intimacy, waved his hand, “Ah, there’s nothing to miss. I’ll be here saying the same nothings about somethings when you return.” He raised his beer and I raised my coffee cup. I looked down the bar and Kasper was shaking his head smiling at us. “I will miss you while you’re gone, Michael.” I nodded and said “Me, too.” Peter cut back in, “You’ll miss yourself?” He put his hands on his cheeks and mocked me. I shook my head and looked down. I turned to Kasper and he was doing the same.

When I finished my meal and my second coffee I got up to leave. Kasper came around the bar and gave me a hug. I told him, “I’ll have a little longer walk when I’m back. My new apartment is on Kerkstraat, but close to the Magere Brug.” Kasper said, “That’s not too far, really. Kerkstraat’s a fun street.” I responded, “Yeah, I’m looking forward to it. Enjoy the holidays while I’m gone.” Kasper walked back behind the bar, saying, “You, too, Michael. Safe travels.”

I patted Peter on the back and waved goodbye to the rest of the men and women at the bar. A few waved back and a few kept their heads down in their meals or coffees. I walked out the door and thought for a moment about what to do. I didn’t have to be anywhere and it wouldn’t take long to pack. I started walking down Middenlaan toward the city center. I looked back at the beer sign halfway down the block and thought to myself, “Even if only for a month or so … I will miss them. They’ve been good to me.”

I walked down Plantage Middenlaan past the Hortus Botanicus and across the bridge. I had passed this way many times during my month-plus stay. I knew there was a botanical garden there. It was surrounded by walls so it was impossible to see inside, but I had never bothered to read the sign. I think my head was usually in the clouds, hunkered down because of the wind or rain, or simply enjoying the scene without worrying about piddly things such as names. Today, though, the sign jumped out at me. Maybe I'd visit it during the next trip.

I went toward Waterlooplein but instead of heading south and west as I usually had done, whether to go to Leidseplein, the Rijksmuseum, or Vondel Park, I turned to walk north and west. I found myself on an interesting street named St. Antoniebreestraat and followed it along. Within ten minutes I stumbled onto Nieuwmarkt. It wasn’t a myth! It really existed! I was stunned.

It was a beautiful square, surrounded on all side by cafes and a couple interesting looking shops. With the sunshine and relative warmth of the day it felt like autumn. Tons of cyclists whizzed through ringing bells to warn pedestrians wandering here and there. Everyone was smiling, in a good mood. Some of the cafés even had their outdoor seating set up and there were a few brave souls tempting the weather to turn, sipping espresso or diving into a salad. It felt like life itself had come into being here, a Garden of Eden that hadn’t had a fall. Eve didn’t eat the apple and there were no snakes to be seen.

I kept walking and made a mental note of how I found Nieuwmarkt. I followed the square to the south and veered away from the west. I followed Koningsstraat to the east and crossed a bridge over a quaint little canal with a wonderful name, Kromboomssloot, until I ran into a familiar sight: Oudeschans, the canal bordering my favorite little hideaway neighborhood. I wandered through but for the life of me I couldn’t find that little three-tabled café. It dawned on me that it might have been further out of the neighborhood than I had realized. I didn’t want to wander so I walked home. I still had food left in the fridge and a loaf of bread. I thought, why let it go to waste?

I walked up the stoop of my apartment, unlocked the door, and entered. As I walked up the steps I said aloud, “I’m home, home.” I made a sandwich, finished off the orange juice in the fridge, and checked messages. I grabbed my pipe and lit up. I cycled through the satellite radio until I found a trance station. I fell into a relaxed, waking slumber.

Vanessa sent an SMS around six. She said she would be over around nine but would have to leave around midnight for work. I was disappointed, but I understood. I went to Bloem for a bite. I hoped Daniel, Anabel, or Nina might be there. I wanted to say goodbye. I grabbed my laptop and went out. It was dark, about 6:30, and the wind had picked up a bit. The autumn tease of the day had been pushed away by a mean westerly wind. I huddled over to Bloem and saw Daniel behind the bar as I entered. There was a gent sitting at a table looking forlorn. He saw me and turned back to his beer. Daniel greeted me with a smile, “Michael, good to see you.” I smiled, took off my coat, placed it on the stool, and sat down.

“What would you like?” I ordered bitterballen and a beer. Daniel placed a beer in front of me and went back to the kitchen to place the order. I opened my MacBook and checked email. Daniel brought my food and I foolishly picked up one of the bitterballen. It singed my finger and I let it drop. I sucked on my index finger and as I did Daniel handed me a cube of ice. “Yeah, it’s a hot,” said Daniel. I iced my finger for a bit and then dropped it into my beer. I took a drink and Daniel asked what was going on. “Well, I think I mentioned I’m leaving tomorrow.” Daniel pointed a finger and said, “That’s right, you did tell me. You’re coming back after the holidays, though?” I said, “Ja, mid-January, over on Kerkstraat.” Daniel nodded.

The other customer present paid his bill and left. Daniel became a little more … Daniel … and asked if I had plans for my last night in Amsterdam. I said, “Yeah, I do.” I paused and Daniel waited … and waited … then laughed, “Oh, come on!” I chuckled and said, “Yeah, a friend is coming over to my apartment in a couple hours.” Daniel crossed his arms and smiled. “Oh, a friend is coming to see you. Well, well, well. I’m sure the two of you will enjoy yourselves.” I raised my beer and smiled.

“What about you, seeing anyone?”

“Oh, well ... hmmm ...  it's complicated.” I didn’t push the issue and left it at that. I said it was slow tonight and Daniel said, “Yeah, it’s Monday. Mondays and Tuesdays are pretty slow, especially this time of year. We’re busier Wednesday through Saturday. In the summers it’s packed outside every day.” He nodded toward the front door. “The zoo.” Ah, yes, the Artis Zoo. Of course.

Daniel and I chatted while I ate and drank. I paid my bill and got ready to leave. Daniel shook my hand across the bar and said, “I’ll see you in January. Have a safe flight.” I smiled and said, “You bet. It would have been fun being here for the holidays, though.” Daniel responded, “Yeah, Amsterdam is great over the holidays. I'm getting together with Anabel, Nina, and a few other friends. We typically have a gourmet feast. Still have to work out the menu.” He mentioned a dozen different entree and dessert options, only a few of which I knew. Holidays with chefs and foodies would be fun. I felt a pang of regret that I hadn’t extended my stay, but I just shrugged it off. As I walked out I gave Daniel a wave. He waved back. “See you in a month.”

Vanessa arrived just after nine. She was dressed in her leather jacket, black sweater, miniskirt, sheer black stockings, and stiletto-heeled boots. She had on her trademark black mascara and lush liquid lipstick. She looked ravishing. I hugged her at the base of the stairs and planted one on her lips. The taxi was still parked outside and she asked, “You have money, baby? I’m sorry, but tonight has to be escort service rate. 140 Euro per hour.” She caught me off guard and I told her to hold on for a minute. She turned to the cabbie and waved for him to wait. I went upstairs to my wallet and grabbed 420 Euros. Ouch.

I came back downstairs and gave her a wad of bills. She put the money in her coat pocket and walked back to the taxi. She opened the front door and leaned inside. After a moment of talking she came out, walked back to the steps, and I invited her inside. It all happened so fast I didn’t have time to feel angry. She had spoiled me. As we walked upstairs I lost any feelings of dismay as I watched her ass wiggle up the steps. When she stepped into the living room she let her coat fall to the ground. 

“So, baby, what you want tonight?” She was smiling what I considered her “escort smile.” I liked it. It meant she was in the mood for play. I told her I wanted to watch her dance and she asked, “You have laptop?” I went to the kitchen and brought it into the living room. She reached in her pocket and said, “I brought treat for you,” and pulled out a baggie of coke. “No charge.” She licked her lips and, despite my swearing off coke, I relented. I couldn’t say no to her when she was like this. Once again, I wanted her to come to the U.S. with me and I found myself practically begging her.

“Baby, you know I no go. I here now. You back soon.” I thought about the latter. That was true. But I couldn’t afford to see her as I had this trip. I would have to see how that played out. Still, I wished she would relent about a trip to the U.S. One week? All expenses paid? She was tough-minded and when she made a decision about something that was it. In spite of myself, I loved this quality in her. The truth was that I liked strong, decisive women. My only satisfying relationships were with such women. Each woman is unique, though, and Vanessa was certainly no exception.

I said, “Georgiana, why don’t—” Vanessa’s head whipped around and she glared at me. “No. You no use name, okay?” Her eyes softened as she stood up, put her arms around my neck, and looked into my eyes. She said, “I know, baby, but is easy other way. Okay?” I nodded yes. Vanessa asked, “CD case?” I nodded and went to the entertainment center to grab a CD. I would have to clean and pack my CDs after she left or in the morning.

I brought the case over to the table just as a Romanian voice warbled from my laptop. Vanessa was about to dump cocaine onto the case when she asked, “You know?” I nodded no. “We set up Yahoo! Messenger and we chat when you away!” A bright smile. I said sure. Vanessa shrunk the window playing the music. I asked her to turn down the volume and she did. She opened a new window and I got set up with Messenger. I made her turn around when I entered my password and she laughed. “What, you no trust me?” I almost answered the question, but then thought better of it. I didn’t want to get punched again.

Once my account was set up she opened the baggie and poured out half a gram. I mashed it up as she played with my open Messenger window. I diced up the coke and looked over at her. She was connecting with some friends. “Ha!” She squealed. “Webcam off and my friend no know it me! Hee! I play trick and get her talk dirty to me. Ha!” Vanessa continued having fun while I sliced up a few lines. I zoomed one with one nostril and switched to snort another. I handed Vanessa a fresh 20 Euro bill and she rolled it up. She inhaled the other two lines. I went to the bathroom to cool my face and hands; I felt the hot, red flush of cocaine pulsing through me. I felt alert, energetic.

I returned to the living room. Vanessa had closed down my Messenger account and was in the middle of the room dancing to Romanian music. She had turned the volume up as high as it would go. She motioned for me to join her and gave me a “come-hither” look. As I approached, I put my hand behind her at the small of her back and pulled her to me. She arched backward so far her hair touched the floor. One leg went skyward and I twirled her hips just slightly as she pulled herself back up using those amazing abdominals while curling her airborne leg around my thigh.

We kept dancing sensuously until the music stopped. Vanessa said, “You take picture, okay? You remember me in America!” I smiled and went to my bedroom to find my camera. The only photos from this trip were of Vanessa. I returned to the living room and Vanessa was standing against the far wall posing. She had her coat on again and her arms crossed. Her lips were puckered and one leg was off to the side, both of them straight. I clicked away as she changed poses. I motioned for her to go to the chaise lounge and I took pictures of her as she sat and then reclined. She pulled up her skirt and flashed me, laughing and whipping her hair every which way. I went to the laptop and started the music again. Vanessa got up and grooved in the middle of the room as I clicked photos of her dancing. She tossed her jacket toward the window and it struck the closed blinds before falling to the ground. She twirled and her smile grew wider. Her mouth opened as she looked upward. The look on her face ... it was as if she had swallowed all the stars in the Milky Way.

I brought her back down to earth with a glass of water. She gulped it and I returned to the kitchen for more. When I walked back, Vanessa was sitting on the couch, her hair mussedfrazzled with some sticking to the side of her face. I put the glasses down on the coffee table and went to the bathroom to grab a hand towel. I came back and handed it to Vanessa. She said “Thank you,” but I could barely hear her because she was panting so hard. I went back to the bathroom and grabbed a big towel. I came back and started waving her with it. She smiled, sat up, and grabbed the towel from me. “It not that bad!” She smiled and patted the seat next to her. I sat down and she leaned in to kiss me.

Vanessa poured more coke onto the case, prepared it, grabbed the twenty, and snorted a line. She sighed. “Ah … much better. Whew!” She had been dancing like a vixen possessed and clearly needed refueling. I re-rolled my bill and snorted one of the lines she had cut. I sat up straight and felt even better than I had earlier. “Wow!” Vanessa laughed at me and pulled me on top of her on the couch. We kissed a moment then she wiggled out from under me, crawled around the side, and hopped on top of me. She put her face close, her nose touching mine. I could smell cherry from her lips and I realized she was sucking on a hard candy. She leaned back and put the candy on the coffee table then pulled herself back to the same position.

She kissed me long and hard, her hair draped around her face and mine. I put my arms loosely around her waist and let my hands dig into her ass with more force. She moaned a little and ground her pelvis into my crotch and wiggled. She leaned back with her eyes covered by her hair, her nose and mouth peeking out just a little. She licked her lips and reached down with one hand to unzip my pants. She reached in and pulled me out. Then she reached back toward the floor between the coffee table and the couch. Her bag was there. She fished around a little then found a condom. She leaned back, bit open, and placed the it in her mouth. She slid off of me and then applied the rubber using her mouth. She stroked with her hand and worked me with her mouth.

Between the coke and Vanessa’s mouth I wasn’t sure how much time passed, but when I came I saw myself orbit the sun. I was breathing hard and she handed me the hand towel I had brought to her earlier. I cleaned up and threw it on the ground beside the couch. Vanessa gave me a wink and then she put me back in my pants and zipped me up. She smiled with satisfaction, clapped her hands together, and looked at me as if to say, “Job well done!” I laughed at her and went to hug her. She said, “NO!” and I realized I would have knocked her back into the coffee table. I slid off the couch and we each snorted another line.

We were both flying high. I asked Vanessa if she would shower with me. “Vanessa, that thing is fucking heaven. Come on.” She said, “I no get hair wet, you know? I have appointment later.” Fuck. I wished I had asked her to stay all night. Would have been a much more indecent and decadent night. Instead, Vanessa went to the bathroom to freshen up. I looked at my watch. Eleven o’clock. Shit, an hour left with her. She came out a minute later. I was standing in the living room, practically pacing because I was so wired. She walked up to me and threw her arms around my neck. She looked dreamily into my eyes and kissed me. Her lips tasted like cherries. They were lush and full. We remained in that embrace for several minutes. Then she pulled away and said, “What you want?” What I want? "I want you in bed if I can’t have you in the shower." Her lips curled and she blinked. “Okay, baby.”

We went to the bedroom, undressed, and … I stopped. “I’m not feeling it, Vanessa. Something's off. The coke and the dancing and, yes, the blowjob, all wonderful, but there’s just something that doesn’t feel right.” The night didn't have that wild spontaneity that most of our time together had. She looked at me, “You no have fun?” I sat down on the side of the bed next to her. “I am, but … not like we have in the past. I can’t describe it. We’re usually wild and things are unpredictable. Tonight feels … like we’re going through the motions. It's not you, believe me.” Vanessa squinted her eyes and gave me a long, hard look. “You are sad. You no want to go.” Yes. She was right. My heart felt like it had closed, like it had been closed all day. There was just a ... blandness to the day, an anticlimactic mediocrity, pleasant but not fulfilling, that pervaded everything about the day. Why are “last days” always so difficult? Try to go out with a bang and instead leave with a whimper. Expectations.

Vanessa stroked my hand. "Is your last night. We have quiet moment, not wild moment." She leaned against me and I put my arm around her. I said, “You are wise, little one.” She giggled. “I no little. I big.” I laughed. “You are tiny, so small I can barely feel you.” She turned her head up to me. “You want I punch you? You feel that!” I laughed and shook my head while falling back on the bed. “No, no punching tonight!” Vanessa climbed on top of me. When she was nose to nose with me she said, “I knee you in balls?” I clenched my legs closed and yelled at her. “Woman! Don’t even joke about that!” I shook my head. “You’re just crazy enough to do it.” Vanessa laughed, “No, you see. When I do, it feel goooood!”

I screamed and twirled her onto her back, straddling her, pinning her legs and arms down so she couldn’t kick, knee, elbow, or punch me. Vanessa said, “You think I trapped, but I still hurt you. Headbutt.” Fuck, there was that. I sighed and conceded, “Okay, you’re not tiny. You’re tough.” I let go of her arms and she flexed her petite biceps. “I am strong! You no mess with me.” I shook my head and laughed, “No, I no mess with you.” Vanessa looked into my eyes and everything slowed down. I loved moments like these with her, moments of silliness followed by genuine affection. “I will miss you, Michael.”

Oh, fuck. My heart slowly began opening up again and I felt a deep pain of longing. God, I was going to miss everyone I had met, the apartment, the city, the whole experience, but I was going to miss Vanessa most of all. Fuck, my heart hurt. I saw a tear fall and splash against Vanessa’s cheek. Her gaze of tenderness disappeared as she blinked and looked at me with shock. “You rain on me!” I giggled. Damn, I hardly ever giggled. It sounded like one of her giggles and it actually felt sincere. A boyish quality to it, a feeling of innocence. I wondered if that was what made her so special, if her giggles were an unintentional display of an innocent integrity. She had said she was broken on more than one occasion, but I saw her as a lover filled with the spirit of life. She may have had some cracks here and there, but she was still intact. I hoped that wouldn’t change no matter how long she remained an escort or what she decided to do with her life. As it stood, she was a gift to the world, a woman who showed me my own heart and I found it beautiful. 

Vanessa said, “Baby, what is time?” Ah, that lovely question. I was tempted to get philosophical, but I knew she had an appointment. I looked at my watch. “It’s 11:40.” She pushed me off her, snorted laughter, and said, “Sorry, baby! I need get ready.” Vanessa picked up her clothes and went to the bathroom. She came out a few minutes later, her hair lovely, her mascara clean, and her lips melting lipstick. She said to me, “You know?” I said no. “You are good kisser. I no kiss clients, maybe two or three, but with you is good.” I blushed in spite of myself, “Thank you. I love kissing you.” Vanessa smiled widely and twisted about with her head tilted back, “Yes, I know you love me, baby. You want marry me!” Giggles. “We kiss, baby, but I must go. I call driver in bathroom and he here.” She wagged a finger at me and I walked over. One last kiss. Vanessa pulled out a hand mirror and said, “Shit, you fuck lipstick.” She made it sound so sexual. I said, “Hey, you kissed me.” She shook her head as she fixed her lipstick, “No, baby, is you.” Of course it was my fault. Why should that change on the last night?

Vanessa grabbed her bag and put on her boots. She was ready to go. I said, “I will miss you.” Vanessa scoffed, “I know. We have Messenger. We chat, no?” Yes. I walked behind her down the stairs and before she opened the door she turned and hugged me. “You are good. I miss you, too, you know? But,” she paused, “we message.” She put her hands to her lips barely touching them and then put her hand to my lips. “Kiss, baby. I love you.” I said “Iubescu.” Vanessa opened the door and walked to the taxi. She didn’t look back once she got inside. I watched the cab drive away around the corner and out of sight. I didn’t know it then, but I would never see her again.