“Do you have to go to the toilet?”

Willem shakes his head no. But even the head-shaking goes on too long, becoming part of his little bladder-dance. He tries to stop tapping his feet and comes within instants of wetting his pants. Instead he pounds the floor again. The guard laughs at him and stoops down, an embarrassing stoop, to Willem’s eye level.

“Well, you might not like talking, but you still manage to get your thoughts across, don’t you! Look, I have to go to the john myself. Let’s go together, all right? The route is too confusing for you to find it by yourself from here anyway.”

And the two of them walk on together, until, halfway there, alarm bells go off inside Willem’s brain.

THE URINAL. Suddenly, as they hurry through room upon fruit-filled room, Willem’s entire future seems to be pending between his legs. In some ways, of course, it is a familiar feeling. After all, Willem is twelve years old, and at this point more and more of his thoughts seem to have their origins there. But this time there is real danger in it. In America, Bill will think to himself years later, people all look different, until you take off their clothes and discover that they are really all the same. In Europe, people all look the same until you take off their clothes and discover that they are different, irreparably different, differences scarred into their flesh. He can’t very well run away now, though. Besides, he has to go.

Just before they reach the men’s room, a woman in her early twenties struts through the corridor, her skirt hugging her hips and swishing around her calves as she swings each leg in front of the other. Willem notices. The guard nudges Willem, muttering down at him. “A knockout, isn’t she.”

Willem nods and quickly looks to the floor. The last thing he needs at this point is to start fantasizing about some girl. The guard leads him into the men’s room and the door swings shut behind them. No one else is there.

“You got a girlfriend yet?” the guard asks with a smile, his voice bubbling like a city fountain.

Willem feels his face turning red. He pictures Jopie and shakes his head. No.

The guard steps up to one of the urinals, unbuttons his pants, and starts babbling.