It’s not the first time I’ve infiltrated my dad’s friend group to drunkenly roam around a city telling tales of the old days I wasn’t even a part of.

The actress saw the foyer in which, years ago, there was a man compelled to show his bits. Girls would scream, hide, and run, shocked at what they’d witnessed. Some were glad for the wild occurrence, like a rare fruit they would later chop up and offer up on a plate to curious ears.

An elderly man walked out of the same foyer with his tiny white dog.

“You beast! How could you?” my dad said underhandedly.

–

The glittered hat had to find its way to academics head. He fought it at first, then surrendered, knowing he’d rather be a fool than disobey her.

–

“Listen, all you need is a good bed.” She said. “Buy yourself a good bed in Zagreb, and one in Copenhagen. You don’t have to wait as long as I did.” I nodded as if the idea didn’t raise ten additional questions.

“We lay upon planks of oak and walnut!” my father and the academic protested. Their faces glowed in youthful persistence.

“Suit yourself, boys,” she said, like the sleeping beauty woken up in a bar.

She could have sold me on anything that evening. All I cared for was to step aside and let the ramblings of their life unfold into the space between us.