items that together easily exceeded the weight of a spare tire. Several minutes elapsed as Anna attempted to flag down passing vehicles, only to be drenched by their splash. Eventually, a Ford truck pulled over a little way up the road.
Anna ran the fifty-yard dash to the truck. Kate and George watched her gesture to whoever was sitting in the passenger seat. An objective observer would have thought the tale she was weaving was far more complicated than a simple flat tire. Then Anna turned around to face her travel companions, gave the thumbs-up sign, and casually walked back to the VW.
Anna opened the car door. “Just grab your coats and whatever you need for the night. They’ll drop us in town. We’ll get the car fixed in the morning. Oh, and Kate, you’re a foreign exchange student from the former Yugoslavia.”
Anna insisted on buying Charlie Ames and Greg Wilkes, Humboldt County loggers and longtime residents, dinner for their trouble. At least that’s what she said, but really it was to prolong Kate’s impersonation of an Eastern European exchange student. Charlie and Greg had never met anyone from a country that no longer existed. They were intrigued. They also wanted to present their country in a flattering light, and they tried to include Kate in all conversation.
“So, Katia, how are you liking your visit so far?” Charlie asked, enunciating each syllable with careful precision.
“Oh, America iz very nice,” said Kate in a perfect Czech accent. That was the only accent Kate could do; she figured the men wouldn’t know the difference.
“And where were you headed before your tire blew?”
“Avenue of the Giants,” Anna said. “That’s all we came for. Katia and I have been pen pals for almost ten years now. She read about the giant redwoods in school. Heard there was a tree you could drive your car through and just had to see it. Isn’t that true, Katia?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “I have grrret luf fur de big trees.”
George dropped her napkin under the table and searched for it until she could get her laughter under control. This took a long time and made Charlie and Greg either suspicious or uncomfortable, which broke up Kate, who covered for her sudden, inexplicable laughter by picking up a saltshaker and saying, “Look, iz so funny. We don’ haf in my country.”
Anna, however, was the master of her invented game. She never cracked, not during the meal or the ten-mile drive to the Redwood Lodge or even when she retold her invented tale to the motel clerk.
“I just feel terrible. This is her first time in America and we get a flat tire.”
In room 15 of the Redwood Lodge—which looked about as rustic as a Motel 6, with the exception of the faux-pine finish on the dresser—George and Anna passed a bottle of cheap whiskey back and forth, repeating their favorite Katia quotes of the night.
“My home is no more der and dat make me sad.”
“Who doesn’t vant to dance on Stalin’s grafe?”
“In my country, lipstick is fur whores and men who vant to be vomen.”
“Television is de best ting about your country. And Pop-Tarts.”
“Americans are wasteful. Ve can feed a family fur a week on a pot of borscht.”
George was awed by Kate’s ability to play Anna’s game. What George didn’t know was that Kate was always playing Anna’s games. Maybe that was why she wasn’t laughing.
The rain never relented. The tent was never pitched. The following morning, Anna had her car towed to a gas station, where the tire was replaced. Kate insisted that Anna also purchase a spare, knowing that money was not an object. A stranger wouldn’t have guessed that Anna was a rich girl, mostly because Anna was hell-bent on avoiding that label.
After taking a vote, the women decided to continue their rain-soaked adventure. They drove through the Avenue of the Giants, the massive trees looming above. George had never seen anything more beautiful. Kate studied her map, trying to
Anna ran the fifty-yard dash to the truck. Kate and George watched her gesture to whoever was sitting in the passenger seat. An objective observer would have thought the tale she was weaving was far more complicated than a simple flat tire. Then Anna turned around to face her travel companions, gave the thumbs-up sign, and casually walked back to the VW.
Anna opened the car door. “Just grab your coats and whatever you need for the night. They’ll drop us in town. We’ll get the car fixed in the morning. Oh, and Kate, you’re a foreign exchange student from the former Yugoslavia.”
Anna insisted on buying Charlie Ames and Greg Wilkes, Humboldt County loggers and longtime residents, dinner for their trouble. At least that’s what she said, but really it was to prolong Kate’s impersonation of an Eastern European exchange student. Charlie and Greg had never met anyone from a country that no longer existed. They were intrigued. They also wanted to present their country in a flattering light, and they tried to include Kate in all conversation.
“So, Katia, how are you liking your visit so far?” Charlie asked, enunciating each syllable with careful precision.
“Oh, America iz very nice,” said Kate in a perfect Czech accent. That was the only accent Kate could do; she figured the men wouldn’t know the difference.
“And where were you headed before your tire blew?”
“Avenue of the Giants,” Anna said. “That’s all we came for. Katia and I have been pen pals for almost ten years now. She read about the giant redwoods in school. Heard there was a tree you could drive your car through and just had to see it. Isn’t that true, Katia?”
“Yes,” Kate said. “I have grrret luf fur de big trees.”
George dropped her napkin under the table and searched for it until she could get her laughter under control. This took a long time and made Charlie and Greg either suspicious or uncomfortable, which broke up Kate, who covered for her sudden, inexplicable laughter by picking up a saltshaker and saying, “Look, iz so funny. We don’ haf in my country.”
Anna, however, was the master of her invented game. She never cracked, not during the meal or the ten-mile drive to the Redwood Lodge or even when she retold her invented tale to the motel clerk.
“I just feel terrible. This is her first time in America and we get a flat tire.”
In room 15 of the Redwood Lodge—which looked about as rustic as a Motel 6, with the exception of the faux-pine finish on the dresser—George and Anna passed a bottle of cheap whiskey back and forth, repeating their favorite Katia quotes of the night.
“My home is no more der and dat make me sad.”
“Who doesn’t vant to dance on Stalin’s grafe?”
“In my country, lipstick is fur whores and men who vant to be vomen.”
“Television is de best ting about your country. And Pop-Tarts.”
“Americans are wasteful. Ve can feed a family fur a week on a pot of borscht.”
George was awed by Kate’s ability to play Anna’s game. What George didn’t know was that Kate was always playing Anna’s games. Maybe that was why she wasn’t laughing.
The rain never relented. The tent was never pitched. The following morning, Anna had her car towed to a gas station, where the tire was replaced. Kate insisted that Anna also purchase a spare, knowing that money was not an object. A stranger wouldn’t have guessed that Anna was a rich girl, mostly because Anna was hell-bent on avoiding that label.
After taking a vote, the women decided to continue their rain-soaked adventure. They drove through the Avenue of the Giants, the massive trees looming above. George had never seen anything more beautiful. Kate studied her map, trying to
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