Red light

A short story about a boy becoming a man in Amsterdam

When he arrived in Amsterdam, Minjun was just seventeen years old. A boy.

He’d never tried alcohol, never smoked anthing. He’d certainly never felt the touch of a woman.

Merely a week later, he left the city as a man.

After leaving the quiet hostel alone on the first day, he wandered the streets. Deliberately losing himself in the spider web of canals, he dodged dodging cyclists, cars and trams on the busy streets all morning. By early afternoon, he found himself in a pub just metres away from the train station.

“Would you like a drink?” the pretty blond barmaid asked. Nervous, and unsure of what passed as normal, he pointed to a Scotch whisky on the menu. He recognised the name from Korean TV adverts. Moments later, the burning hot amber of a 12 year old Glenfiddich was burning his throat for the first time. He watched the blonde as she worked, flinching at every sip of the whisky, eyes watering. He asked for the bill in English. Four euros. He only had a 20, so he put it down and left before the barmaid came back.

The next stop was the Grasshopper café. On the internet, this was THE place to go for weed. He crossed the bridge and up the steps to the front door. Loud dance music played over the stereo, but there was no-one around. He made a smoking gesture to the bar man, who pointed him downstairs.

Ten minutes later, he emerged back in to the street. Leaning against a lamppost, he coughed and threw up in to the canal. He heard someone say something, but he couldn’t respond. He looked down at the water and saw a white face staring back. It didn’t feel like it was really him. It was as if he had just watched himself go in, buy the marijuana cigarette, set it alight and take two puffs. Next thing he remembered was being here. He choked up one more heave, and wiped his mouth with his shirt.

He tried to open his eyes wide enough to see where he was walking, but he felt them shutting as if he was falling asleep. He staggered across the street, and approached a figure walking towards him.

“Red right” he muttered.

“What?” asked the stranger.

“Red right! Red right district!” he blurted out.

The stranger laughed, but understood. He pointed Minjun down the next street, and on he staggered, without thanking the stranger. Windows began to appear to him. Windows with semi-naked shapes in them. Women of all sizes, ages, colours. All smiling as he stumbled past.

One beckoned him over, a slim blonde figure who reminded him of the barmaid. The glass door opened, and she pulled him inside by the wrist. As the curtains closed, shutting out the light, he felt like he might throw up again. She pulled him onward, to the back of the room. She said something and patted his side, finding his wallet. He took it out, she removed some notes and returned it to his pocket, then led him to a sink on the wall.

She said something he didn’t understand and, frustrated, pointed at his crotch and repeated it. He didn’t move, so she leaned forward to unzip his jeans. He wobbled as she pushed him to the sink and pulled his underwear down. She switched on the tap and splashed some hot water on him. Understanding, he clumsily washed himself. She switched off the tap and led him behind another curtain to a single bed.

It was so dark he could barely see, his other senses severely impaired. He felt her push him on to his back on the bed. He felt her hands on him, then a warm feeling he’d never experienced before. His hips jerked him forward but he felt her hands pushing him back. She said something, but his eyes were closed and his ears couldn’t understand. She muttered something, and he felt her climb on top of him. He pushed upwards with his hips, but her strong body pushed him back down and he felt her rotate on him. Without emotion, she rocked powerfully until she felt his body stiffen. He reached up to her arms and groaned noisily as he exploded inside her.

Almost instantly, she rolled off him. Disappearing, leaving him panting in the dark, she returned a few seconds later with a warm wet cloth to clean him up. She pushed his underwear and jeans in to his hands and pulled him back upright before he was ready.

As he stood to put his jeans on, he rocked uneasily on his feet and stumbled. He threw up again, on a table at the edge of the bed. She screamed something he didn’t understand, and jerked him up aggressively. Bundling him back out through the glass door, she kicked his shoes and t-shirt out on the street behind him. He tripped as he went to lift them, and hit the ground hard.

Minjun awoke in the hostel six hours later. He had an agonising headache, and didn’t know where he was. He could smell vomit.

A tear met his eye and he thought of his parents back home in Seoul.

Their son. Now a man.

Reviews

[Marie]

He really thought that was the way to become a man? He's still seventeen years old, and he has a lot of growing up to do.

But teen-agers have wierd ideas of what it takes to become an adult.