Golem

Golem

  by Todd Maternowski

  Copyright 2011 Todd Maternowski

  "So will you help me steal the Golem of Prague or not?"

  "Steal what?"

  "Good luck getting that through customs."

  "Dude, Zev, just drop it."

  I had no intention of dropping it. This was Prague -- a magical, mysterious city. Rick had been here several times before but it was my first time in the city. And the Golem, just sitting up there in the attic of the Old New Synagogue in the tiny Jewish quarter, was simply too tempting.

  "But it's a piece of real, magical history!"

  "It's a myth, man, don't be stupid."

  "Rick's right. Never happened."

  "Why are we wasting our time with this guy? Let's go."

  I was fighting a losing battle. None of my comrades had shown any interest whatsoever in the legend of the Golem of Prague that afternoon --other than Quan, who bought one of those little statues they sell in the gift shop-- and they were ready to get out and hit the clubs we'd seen earlier in the day.

  I can't blame them. From what we saw earlier that day, we guessed that up to one half of the women in the Czech Republic would be considered supermodels back in Madison. Even Rick said so, and he went to Northwestern.

  "Fine, you guys suck. I'll just go myself."

  Rick got up off the hotel bed, took two long strides to my chair and grabbed me by my shoulders.

  "Zev. Zev, zevzevzevzev. We're not here to explore grand mysteries of the ancient whatever. We already went sightseeing. It was great, I personally could have used the extra sleep but it's ok, whatever. But tonight, we party. All of us. I'm getting married in a week and you'd goddamn better come with us tonight and try and score some of these amazingly beautiful European girls."

  "I know, bu--"

  "No. No choice. We're going to hit that club on the other side of the bridge and we're going to find the four hottest pieces in the place and we're going to pretend we're cowboys from Texas --except you, Quan, you can say you're Fu Manchu or something-- and we're going to have the best night of our lives. And you're not coming with us dressed like that."

  I couldn't argue with the man. That was the reason we were here. All the guidebooks I'd read on the flight here --being careful to select only the hip and cool ones like Timeout and Lonely Planet-- all that urban exploration would have to be on my own time.

  "Fine, fine. Just pick a shirt out and I'll go put some deoderant on."

  "THAT'S the Zev I wanted to party in Prague with! Someone tell Roger to get the hell out of the bathroom. I'm getting tired of waiting on his ass. It shouldn't take a grown man that long to puke and shave."

  We left the hotel, a dirt-cheap little two-room place in the Mala Strana district, crossed the Charles Bridge and hit the Karlovy Lazne, which advertised itself as the biggest dance club in all of Middle Europe. Rick disappeared into the sweaty, pulsating mass of barely-clothed young flesh almost instantly. Roger left to go to the restroom and didn't come back, while Quan and I hit one of the bars inside and ordered a pair of Czech Budweisers --not to be confused with the thin, tasteless, beer-flavored water that goes by the same name back home.

  Despite the many, many opportunities to join in with the dancing throng, Quan –always the shy one in the group-- silently stood by my side at the bar as we watched the proceedings with detached amusement. Whatever he was thinking, he didn't tell me. I probably wouldn't have heard him over the bland house music anyways, and even if I had, my mind was a world away, scrambling down the side of the Old New Synagogue with the clear, definitive proof of the Golem that would make this trip one of the most unforgettably coolest bachelor parties in human history.

  The others didn't realize it, but by skipping out on the party at the first opportunity, I was doing them a tremendous favor. Taking one for the team, so to speak.

  After a half hour and two more beers for courage I shouted in Quan's ear that I was heading to the restroom and would be right back. He nodded, staring at the glistening back of a ridiculously healthy blonde in front of us that was a foot taller than he was and completely out of his league. I started toward the restrooms, cut my way through a dense patch of youth and doubled around toward the exit, checking back to make sure Quan didn't see me leave.

  The cool night air blowing off the Vltava River hit me with a shock more pleasurably intense than anything I could've managed in the dance club or the hotel room afterward. I started up the picturesque street alongside the river --I had a small flashlight on my keychain and had slipped my lockpicks into my wallet before we left the hotel, so I wouldn't waste any time crossing back and forth across the bridge-- and practiced blending into the rare shadows in my dark pants, dark red silk shirt and army-navy surplus boots.

  If I had read those guidebooks before I packed for my flight, I might've been better equipped, but there's also a certain elegance to travelling light. Dressed the way I was, with three strong beers sloshing around in my veins, I had the "drunk American tourist on a dare" alibi that should keep me out of any serious trouble. I didn't know squat about the Czech justice system and hadn't seen any cops outside of the really touristy areas, but I felt a little invincible that night, an ugly American explorer in the pith helmet of my generation getting ready to open the forbidden tombs of the Pharoahs, mummy's curses be damned.

  As I put my hand in my pocket to double-check on the picks, a hand grabbed my elbow. I turned. It was Quan.

  "Don't do this, Zev."

  "Don't do what?"

  "Don't go there. You don't know what you're messing with."

  "I'm not. I just needed some fresh air. That whole place smelled like armpits and feet and bodyspray."

  "Don't play around with me, Zev. I mean it."

  I had never seen Quan's face look so.. alarmed. He was genuinely worried. Not just drunk, although he was easily the biggest lightweight in the group.

  "Hey, man, don't worry. Fine, I won't go, fine."

  "I'm going to slap you if you keep lying to my face."

  I was shocked. For a single moment, I really, truly had meant to go back to the club. But just for a moment. Was I really that easy to read? It would explain my terrible luck with females.

  "Ok, ok. I'll go back."

  "We don't have to go back. Just not there. We can get some beers in one of those underground dungeons."

  "Why do you even care?"

  Quan looked at the river for a long moment, breathing heavily. I thought I detected a slight sway in his posture, but it was hard to tell since I was a little buzzed too.

  "Listen, Zev. Listen. What I'm about to tell you, hell, I can't tell you. You can't --but you've got to hear it."

  "Spit it out, bro."

  "You can't go up into that attic."

  "Why the hell not?"

  "Listen. I know a thing or two about those things. Golems. Let's --Let's sit down over there. I've got something to tell you."

  We found a little bench nearby, one with interesting gargoyle-like carvings holding up the wooden slats instead of the usual posts, and sat down. He stared off at the motion of the dark river in front of us. My eyes naturally settled on the gorgeous fairy-tale castle on the hill across the river.

  "Where I come from, when I grew up, things were difficult for us. For my community."

  "Chinese?"

  "Not exactly. I mean, yes, we're all technically Chinese, but we, my family and a few other families, we were part of something different. Something most of the people in our village didn't understand. Even in that part of the country, just two decades ago. You simply just can't understand how it was."

  I was wondering if he would ever get to the point. "How what was?"

  "Our community was persecuted by the others in the village. The kids would throw rocks
through our windows. Our dogs would wander off and disappear. People would avoid us in the street, or pass us and hurl insults at us. We never did anything to provoke them, but it didn't matter."

  "What did you guys do? You family, I mean?"

  "Nothing. Then one day someone stole one of our cows. It may sound funny to you, Mr. Wisconsin, but it was a big deal to us. An invasion. My grandfather decided things, if left to themselves, would only go from bad to worse."

  "Hey, a cow is a big deal in Wisconsin too."

  "It wasn't just about the cow. The villagers would be coming for us next. We had to do something. We couldn't move away. We had to take a stand. We had to fight. But not with our