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Post by Praline on Aug 7, 2008 5:07:47 GMT 10
My thanks to Mrs. Eyre for sharing her wonderful story and characters with me , much of the Abby/Luka dialogue is hers, with me adding in what Luka is thinking, there are some additional scenes scattered throughout. Thanks also to my readers Kate and Katalyn, the first like my mother thought everything was wonderful and the latter made me try harder, a great combination.
I found Luka wonderful to write, although he swears much more then I do, likes to drive fast cars, and well, damn him, he's more beautiful. There is some adult language.
All the usual disclaimers apply, and I must also credit Ivica (Tata), Damir and Tatijana to Mrs. Eyre. Hope you enjoy it!
Part I: "No Time Like the Present"
Abby. It's been a long strange ride. A disastrous year together, a fiery, hurtful break-up, then a reconnection, a rebuilding of sorts, that ended with her drinking . . . and Carter. But things can turn on a dime. They did one night when Abby showed up drunk at my apartment asking me to take her to bed. A rather inauspicious start, but a start it was. Oh, nothing happened that night, not between us. But something changed for Abby. She broke-up with Carter, went into rehab. Started doing things for herself, taking care of herself. When she came back from rehab, we struck up a friendship. We even managed to talk about our pasts, our relationship, to forgive and be forgiven one long night. It was clear whatever we felt was still there, even stronger then when we were together. Still neither one of us really knew what to do with it, where we should go next. Eventually I went to Croatia to think. I couldn't hurt Abby again, I had to know I had something worth giving her, that I was someone worth giving her. I made peace with my past, with my ghosts. By the time I got back, all I needed to know was that she wanted it too.
The night after my return she invited me over for dinner and she invited me into her life. We fell into bed, and into each other's lives with an ease that surprised me. Everything that hadn't worked did. And for the first three months it all just flowed. Then I made my first big mistake. My family came for a visit, my father, my brother, Damir and his wife Tatijana. And I didn't tell Abby. I just brought her to the restaurant and there they were. A complete blind side. What an idiot. I don't know why I did that. Fear I guess. And really fear of making her afraid. She's already so good at scaring herself. I thought she might call it quits right there, but she didn't. She ended up spending a day with my father, Ivica, which is more of a challenge then you might guess. She forgave me. I think she made a choice to take me, shit and all, and we went on, moved forward. After that, she was different, more confident, really just more there. She seemed to be finding herself in ways she never had before. There were times when she would get a wistful look on her face, seem far away. When I asked she always changed the subject, and I figured she'd tell me when she was ready. Which she did one night, but it wasn't what I was expecting not by a long shot.
Life is strange. We work and plan and think and worry about our future. But really it all changes in an instant. We sign the papers or we don't, we ask the question or not, we stay or we go. And then there's the other guy. Sometimes it's the nameless, faceless soldier a mile away pressing the button that changes your world in an instant, and sometimes it's the woman lying right next to you in the dark.
I hated staying at her place sometimes, the noise, the neighbors, alarms ringing. It was one of those nights. We lay in the dark and I began to complain saying we should have been at my place and how having two apartments was a waste. And then it just slipped out, the proposal. Of course I had thought about it for awhile, even before we got back together officially, I had thought about it. Sometimes I thought I would take her out to dinner, or cook something, the works, soft music, the ring, the bent knee, something Abby would never feel she deserved, but of course she did. After all we'd gone through, how we had almost never made it to this point, somehow fanfare didn't fit. Marrying Abby now was natural, like breathing, and so the proposal was more of a statement then a question. I can be an arrogant bastard, no?
"I mean we'll have to decide on one place when we're married."
Smooth huh?
I lay in the dark, listening her to her breathe, it seemed like a long pause, but I'm sure it was seconds rather then the minutes it felt like. My whole body was tense, and there was a knot growing in my gut, what if I had been wrong, what if she didn't feel what I was feeling, what if we were out of step again?
Her answer was smooth too. "Somewhere with a garden."
The knot released and I felt a rush of happiness, like when you're a kid and you are going to get that new bike that you always wanted and never thought you would have.
Where she took it then, was where I had never thought we would go. I had thought that I had thrown out the how do you say it? Showstopper? See I can be arrogant, but also a fool.
"Well . . we'll need somewhere for the kids to play, won't we?"
See how she did it, smoother then me. Like dropping a silent bomb, no noise just the impact right in your gut.
My mind shut down, but my body knew what to do, get out of there . . fast. Somehow I ended up at her table smoking down a cigarette, even though I don't smoke. Don't think the irony was lost on me, if I were a betting man, I would have thought the proposal would have seen us in the opposite roles. Her smoking, me sitting quietly watching, waiting.
I struggled to try to figure out why I didn't grab her and kiss her, hold her tight and tell her how happy she made me, but I didn't, I couldn't, I felt a lot of things but happy? No, not happy.
I reached for another cigarette and she pulled them away. She's talking now, and I'm struggling to still the voices in my head so I can hear what she's saying. I realize I'm a dolt for proposing and then running away like she has the plague for mentioning children, I try to apologize "I'm sorry" I stumble, ramble, doesn't really matter what I said.
She tells me to blame my father, she talks about taking risks if you want something badly. Here's the crux, ""If it's what who wants?" I hear myself ask. She reassures me its what she wants and then my body wants to move again, my mind can't keep up, I'm up and out of the house as fast as I can.
"I need to walk" I tell her, it's a lame excuse for walking out on her, but it's all I have, and she lets me go.
I get outside and the cold air smacks me in the face, its good, like a hard slap to bring me out of the fog I've been in.
Children? You think this is crazy, it's what I've wanted for years, even willing to take onanother man's children to fill the void. Now, I can have my own, what's your f**king problem Kovac?
But see, I put that part of my life away. When I was in Croatia, before being with Abby again, thinking things through trying to decide if there was a way for us, I decided to be with Abby, I had to be willing to give up the idea of children. It wasn't easy. I sat on the beach where I played as a child and I took out every memory of Jasna and Marko that I had. I looked at every moment, from Danijela telling me she was pregnant, her eyes glowing; lying with her, her belly swollen her face alight, feeling them kick; the days they were born, the sheer terror of seeing Danijela in pain, the joy holding their tiny, wet bodies in my hands; the nights I would wake up and find the baby sleeping between us. All of it, do you see how I looked at it all? Their first words, steps, ice cream, every moment and then I looked at all the moments I had been cheated out of .. . .teaching them to swim, drive, their wedding days. When I had done that I asked myself if I could give it all up to be with Abby and never have a moment of regret or doubt or blame. I realized that I could, that as crazy as it seems Abby was enough for me if she wanted me too. Most people never have what I had had so young. Abby was more then enough from here on out. I was sure, I was at peace. I had decided.
Now she was showing me how wrong one man can be. How had I not seen it? Is it possible for someone you love so much to change under your nose in ways you can't begin to fathom? Was she doing it to please me? Just now she said not when I asked at the table, but would she blame me later, if the worst happened? No not the worst, the worst had happened to Jasna and Marko, if the child wasn't perfect that wouldn't be the worst, of course children aren't perfect, they are who they are and we love them no matter what. Would a bipolar child bring us any less joy then one who wasn't? There would be challenges, but there always were of course. No child comes with any guarantees. Danijela and I were too young to understand all this, but now I understand far too much about "worst case scenarios". I didn't think about that happening again, there's some shit in life you just can't even consider.
Now I have a new question, a new choice not Abby or children, but no children or Abby's child. The answer to that question well it's easy. But no, I have to be rational, there can never be any regret or doubt or blame in this new scenario. I'll be logical weigh the pros and cons, make sure she understands all the risks. Now I'm laughing because of course there is no logic in bringing a child into this world. So I understand that like Abby I am willing to take the risk because whatever I told myself before I want it badly enough. I want to see Abby with her belly swollen with my child, feel it move, hold her hand with every contraction. I want to wake up at 2 a.m. to find our baby nuzzled between us, and I want it beyond anything rational. I feel warmth wash over me such as I haven't felt in what seems like a lifetime.
I walk home and my steps are quick and sure. When I reach the door, there is a second of hesitation, what will I find on the other side? Is Abby brooding and cold, dismayed that the man she just agreed to marry would walk away? Is she angry? What price will my fear bring me?
I find her in bed, she's pretending to be asleep, but I've watched her sleeping enough times to know when she's faking it. I run my finger along her eyelashes and hope for the best.
"Hey"
"Hey"
I apologize, lamely, but still,"I'm sorry I shouldn't have. . ."
"It's OK. I understand." So that's how it is, she is learning to forgive so easily, she can learn faster then I can adapt.
"Yes?" I ask, it might be ok for her, I'm not sure it's okay for me.
"It's all right. I should have talked to you properly, I just assumed . . I never expected to want . . but no, this is enough for me, us I mean, I probably shouldn't even – "
So this is how it is, her hard won prize cast aside without hesitation all on one word from me. Do you see how lucky I am? To be so loved, twice in a lifetime. My eyes sting.
Then I realize it's my turn to be kind, to be the grown-up, to surprise her.
"How many?" I say as if no time had passed from when she first mentioned the garden and children and it feels natural like taking the next breath.
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Post by Praline on Aug 7, 2008 15:03:21 GMT 10
Part II "Icarus Flying"
So its sort of heady, we look for houses, and find something we both love, with a small garden like she wanted. And she's on me day and night, it's like a teenage boy's dream. Which is fun for awhile. But I'm not a teenager, and frankly she's scaring the shit out of me. There's a desperate quality to her at times. I remind her that biologically speaking, ejaculating upwards of four times a day is not the best way to procreate. My complaints annoy her, and she's not pleased when I used the term "stud bull", but you know a guy's got feelings too. I don't want this to feel like a project, we're supposed to be making love after all. She backs off then, but it's almost like she wants to hurry up and conceive before either of us can change our minds, and that's not particularly comforting.
I feel a sadness begin to emanate from her every month when she's not pregnant. And it scares the crap out of me. Is she doing this with me or for me? I thought I knew, but now sometimes I don't. There are moments she looks at me like she can't believe this is her life, the house, us, as if she doesn't deserve it, and then I get the feeling that she thinks somehow not getting pregnant would be some kind of justice. Divine retribution, but for what I'm not sure, her drinking, her abortion, a life half-lived, whatever. She's learned to forgive me, I wish she'd learn to forgive herself. Frankly I'm not worried that it's taking time, neither of us is a kid anymore, it hasn't been that long, and I tell her that. But I worry for her, if it doesn't happen. And I worry for us. She pulled out before, checked out, let it die, and I'm afraid she'll leave me again, you know, without moving out. It's not easy, the battle to be close to Abby. I don't want to lose it, not again, not now.
I try to keep her busy picking out colors for the house, furniture, whatever. I try to keep myself busy planning the garden. When I was little, we had a beautiful garden. My mother planted bright red and yellow flowers in planter boxes in the windows, and then more flowers, trees and vegetables outside. I loved to play there as a boy. When she died, my father didn't have the heart to keep it up. Damir and I tried, but we didn't make a very good job of it. It withered, like it had lost its soul, and it had. When we moved to the apartment in Zagreb, I was grateful. I didn't want to watch it die. I want a garden like my mother's, for the baby, for Abby and for myself. I get a book, because I don't know what translates from Croatia to Chicago and I make plans, and try not to worry. Its hard though, I feel like I'm watching her confidence slip, like she's coming off balance out of center. I want her to know that I don't need her to do this for me, but it's hard to find the words. She wants it so much, maybe too much, she's not really thinking clearly. Maybe I'm not either. I know I should talk to her, but I just keep hoping things will get better on their own. That the damn stick will turn pink. I don't want to drive her away, and I don't want to put more pressure on her, she does a pretty good job of that herself.
It's funny, I had put aside the whole idea of children and then I let it back in, and now it feels like life might screw me over one more time. I know I'll be okay if it doesn't happen, I mean, I was in the right place before. I wasn't kidding myself when I said Abby was enough for me. Sometimes she's more then enough, it's like having a roller coaster in your backyard, exciting yes, but it can make you queasy too. Still, I like that she keeps me off balance, somehow it works, We both have baggage, but in a lot of ways we balance each other out, like complementary emotional baggage. Wouldn't Tata like that?
But suddenly it feels like, er, when you go on vacation and you pack way too much stuff and you're in the airport desperate for a porter. I could use a porter right now, I'm afraid we both could.
One of the toughest things about a second language is the little phrases everyone knows but you. One seems exceptionally apt right about now, "the elephant in the room". Funny, I think Abby told me what it meant. I had this image of a huge elephant taking a crap in someone's kitchen, and the people are just talking and cooking and eating like its not happening. Well our elephant wasn't in the kitchen, he was in our bedroom. I thought having Carter hanging around was annoying the first time, but at least I had Abby to myself in bed, the elephant is worse.
So we skirt the issue for awhile which is really what we do best. But then the inevitable happens . . . . .we fight.
We're making the bed in our new house for the first time, and naively I think that I've given the elephant the slip by moving so I'm feeling pretty good and I ask her if she wants to break the sheets in, and she says
"It's not — I mean next week, we should - "
And right then I understand that the elephant has moved right along with us, and this thing has taken a life of its own, like her recovery, this is her new project, and I'm angry, because our baby should not be on her list of things to do to prove she's okay. So I pick a fight.
"We should what? Are we f**king to a schedule now?" It feels good to open the door to all I've been feeling, but kind of scary too, cause you never know what's lurking on the other side of those doors.
"Are we what?", and I know she's pissed, I've unleashed her tiger too,
"You heard me"
"Look you know the best chances of — "
"I know all about making babies, Abby, but the rest of the time we're making love, aren't we? Or does that not matter any more?" There, part of its out. She says nothing and I sit down, sighing with fatigue that it's all so hard, I can't look at her, but I know its time to mention the elephant.
"Why are we doing this?"
"Fighting?"
"No" There it is does she see it?
"You mean —I-you mean-" No she doesn't want to do this, she's come a long way, but not that far, it's my job to finish it up.
"Starting a baby is what I mean."
And I feel her fury build she doesn't even like me in this moment, but that's part of love too, and I decide to just try and be with it whatever comes.
"Because it's what we both want."
Is it Abby? Is it really?
"Why? What changed?" I can't hold my doubts at bay any longer.
"Everything! Everything changed. I'm sober, I'm . . I'm . . I like my life, Luka, I like myself, I think I'm worth sharing now, I'm —"
I cut her off, I'm more scared then I thought I would be.
"You're desperate! You're scaring me!" I'm terrified that somehow her addiction and her recovery is driving our lives and always will and that what we both want has taken back seat to Abby's desperation, her need to give me what I had, to be good enough for me, and to somehow prove something to herself.
"No"
"You are" There it's said its out there, whatever happens we haven't made our old mistake, for whatever that's worth.
"I know what you're thinking"
Crap
"Sure you do"
"Yeah, sure I do, you asshole. Abby the addict, grab, grab, grab. Jesus Luka, my whole life is one long frigging balancing act, you know? Live in the moment, but learn to defer gratification. Learn from my past, but put it behind me, see things —"
"Abby" I try to stop her, she's right, and I've been wrong or at least blind, fear will do that to you.
"-from the outside and — "
"Abby, stop. I'm sorry."
She tells me that she's not desperate, but impatient, and why shouldn't she be, she's put her life on hold for years, waiting for it to be okay, and maybe now that it is, maybe it's too late to have what she wants or at least to have everything she wants.
I try to reassure her, but she asks me about Danijela. I can't believe it and I want to laugh, but I don't.
"How long?"
Who knows was it the first time or the fiftieth, Jasna was a honeymoon baby, but we were so desperate for each other, who knows when it happened.
I decide to err on the side of levity and brevity, and how do you say it? Get out of Dodge?
"Jesus, Abby about 10 minutes I guess — is that what you want to hear?"
Frankly, overall, I admire the way Abby handles the fact that I loved so completely before her, selfishly I'm glad the tables aren't turned, it would be harder for me I think.
Again I try to reassure her, she looks like she might cry and I get up and go to her and hold her. I tell her again that it will happen for us.
"What if it doesn't?" I answer her the only way I can . . . with the truth.
"I don't care"
She pulls away from me and looks at me like I've just struck her a physical blow, I feel slightly sick.
"I mean I do care. I want this too, I do want it, But God, Abby, not if it means losing us." There I've said it, my truth. She's more important, no we're more important, she's my choice and now she knows it.
We make love then, and for the first time in awhile, we're alone, the elephant has left the room.
As we lie wrapped in each other I finally ask.
"What did my father say to you?" "About having a baby?"
"Yes"
"Nothing I didn't already know. I don't know why, but hearing it again, it made me think, he made it seem , , , ,possible. He told me that some risks are worth taking, that there are never any guarantees, that all parents live in fear for their children . . . .and that you were made to be a father"
"He tends to exaggerate"
"He was right"
"There are other ways Abby"
"I know but, the risk, Luka, it's worth it to me now. I want to be a mother, I want to be the mother of your baby."
"And you will be."
"I don't know"
"I do"
"You would never have asked would you?"
"No"
"Why?"
"Because I didn't need it to be happy, and because some things aren't fair to require from another person, Abby. Love can't come with that steep a price tag."
She nods and reaches for my hand and we lock fingers
"I know we'll be okay if it doesn't happen, and really this is enough, more then I ever thought I'd have, but I want this Luka. I want it for me. I want it for you. I want it for us"
"I know. I want it too."
I was making coffee that morning. She never has really appreciated my coffee, she comes into the kitchen wearing one of my t-shirts, her hair is disheveled and her eyes are still squinting in the light. It's one of those moments, where I'm struck by just how pretty she is. And she says to me
"God, Luka, that stuff stinks did you switch to something even stronger you'll rot out your stomach I swear"
At first I dismiss it as "Abby before 9", but then I realize that it's the same stuff I've been using for months and she's never complained before. I glance at her sideways, she's edging towards the calendar, trying to be nonchalant, but her nose is crinkling like she's just walked into a barnyard.
I turn around and look at her again, I say nothing, but march her to the bathroom and hand her the test. I don't need it, I already know, but she needs it, the little pink line I mean.
When she comes out of the bathroom, she's aiming for cool "Congratulations, you're going to be a father".
It's her moment, so I follow her lead and shrug, "I told you so", and then I'm holding her and she's crying and I'm laughing, and its one of those moments in life that you hang onto for when things go the other way.
"I'm scared" she says
Of course she is.
"I should hope so. Me too"
I can't remember who says what next, but I bring up the wedding, I'm teasing her that it's the honorable thing, my duty, but really I want to feel that ring on my finger and see one on hers so badly I can taste it. I want everyone to know she, I mean they belong to someone. Belong? That's not politically correct is it? That's not modern. But frankly the older I get, the less I care about being correct.
" . . just us" she says meaning the wedding, and I can't help thinking it's just the three of us now, which makes me want to savor every moment I still have her to myself, and so I take her upstairs and savor away.
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Post by baboune51 on Aug 7, 2008 18:38:59 GMT 10
it's so beautiful , love it
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Post by Izzy on Aug 9, 2008 1:38:49 GMT 10
I like it!!
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Post by Praline on Aug 22, 2008 17:17:16 GMT 10
Part III "What's in a Name?"
So I savor her most of that day. I'm not a teenager, but hey I've still got it. We get hungry and head down to the kitchen, I tell her I'll take care of dinner, I'm feeling paternal. I start to make one of my favorite dishes which she respectfully refers to as "lamb gruel" when I look down at my hand, and realize I'm an idiot. I had her ring this whole time, and I just didn't see it. Not the first time I've missed something I should have seen. It's an heirloom, a simple gold band, from an old Croatian woman, Rosa, that became like family to me. I've worn it on my little finger, since she died. I slide it off and walk over to Abby, I get close, and I pick up her hand and slide the ring on, she doesn't look at me, but watches the ring going on like she's never seen one before, When she looks at me she nods, and I feel better, well, half-way better.
We go to see Kerry about my getting time off during Abby's scheduled vacation. And she starts to give me shit. Two weeks that's all I'm asking for and you'd think I was asking for more then my due. I give her a short explanation, "It's a honeymoon". She'll see what she can do? She'd better.
A couple of weeks go by, and the day comes. I get up while she's sleeping and take a walk. What else would I do? It's crazy, to feel so happy, and so sad all at the same time. The sadness is unexpected, but should really be no surprise. The last time I did this, I was a kid. Had no clue what I was getting into, somehow that made it easier. Now, I know, I still want it, but I know. It feels like I'm closing a door. It's the end of one life, and the start of another. I haven't talked to Danijela in ages, somehow once I was with Abby it didn't seem right; I'd said my good-byes in Croatia. But this morning, she seems closer to me then she has in a long time.
"I'm getting married today" I say.
And for the first time I hear it . . her voice
"I'm glad" slow and sweet and low, but it's not Danijela's voice, it's Abby's.
I stop cold.
And then I know it's time to go home and wake my bride.
She's bought this dress, and doesn't want to wear it when the time comes, I shrug who cares what she wears. I tell her to wear a wet suit and snow shoes and she screws her face up at me in that way she has. Tata will appreciate the pictures, not traditional you know. Honestly, it doesn't matter what she wears. I can't take my eyes off her face, it's like someone flipped on the light switch. Her eyes are glowing, and her cheeks blushing, like she'd just walked a mile, or we just made love. And her smile, I don't think I've ever seen Abby smile this much, not even if I totaled it all up since the first time I saw her. She's radiant.
We get to the courthouse and meet Carter and Chen. I shake his hand and we look each other in the eyes, and I know he trusts me with her now. Not that I need him to, but still it's nice. Who'd have thought? We struck up an uneasy alliance when Abby went back to rehab. It's evolved into a friendship of sorts. Abby still gets him more then I do, but there's more to him then I thought, and he truly cares about Abby.
We say our vows and its faster then I would ever have imagined, I can't help it I cry a little and so does she. Now I have my ring too, although it was hard for her to get it there, her hands trembled, mine were steady.
Carter and Chen take us out to lunch. It's nice, to be there with her, we're happy and it's easy. It feels like our day, not a production, but a celebration, I like it, and I like that she likes it too.
The weird part comes when we go to work. It's odd to be back in this world after being in world apart all morning.
Women are funny, she made me promise not to tell anyone about the baby yet, and she goes and blurts it out to Susan Lewis first thing. Susan, Abby and I are finishing up on a case when she notices my ring, and looks at me then Abby who nods. Susan looks rather surprised so I quip that I had to marry her or be deported. Abby says she married me because she's pregnant, and then with a grin and a glint in her eye, she refutes it claiming it was for my money and finally she whispers something in Susan's ear that leaves her mouth gaping. As for telling people about the baby, I don't care, she can hire a sky writer or a billboard, or she can wait till people begin to think she's getting fat, whatever she wants. Just wish she'd make up her mind, so I know the drill. But I have to say, I like seeing her having fun with it, her smile, so alive, it's nice, it makes me happy too.
Her name. She wants me to tell her whether to take my name, personnel papers or something. It doesn't matter to me, the important thing is that we're married. I know I was all sentimental about the rings, and I don't care about her name? But what did you think, I'm not a Neanderthal. I ask her if she wants me to be Luka Lockhart, that makes us laugh it sounds more like a cartoon character or worse a female impersonator. Danijela took my name, but we didn't even consider the options. I've already had two Mrs. Kovac's in my life. I don't need another Mrs. Kovac; I just need Abby. It's her choice I say, and then suggest Wyczniski if she doesn't want to keep Lockhart, and that's what she settles on.
Work gets busy, and I'm focused, grinding through another shift. Time gets away from me. I'm trying to finish up some sutures when Abby comes in dragging Gallant behind her.
"Gallant will finish for you" she says brightly, Gallant doesn't look too excited.
I glance up briefly, "That's okay I've got it" I say and go back to work, not getting it.
"Dr. Kovac, Gallant will finish for you" she says it again, no longer bright, more um menacing maybe. I look up again.
Gallant behind her holds up his left hand and points to his ring finger.
Damn me for a fool, it's our wedding night.
"Mrs. Davis, Dr. Gallant will just finish up these last stitches, you're in excellent hands".
I smile at Abby but she's shaking her head at me. I pat Gallant on the back, and he mutters "You're in trouble Dr. Kovac." I hope he's wrong.
I quickly get ready, she's long since put her things away.
I find her waiting outside for me. I take a breath and put on my best grin, I wink as I say
"Ready Ms Wyczinski?" I hold my z's and lay my accent on thick. What you didn't think I had any tricks up my sleeves? I've been married before, no?
It works.
She smiles and shakes her head. "You're such a jerk"
I shrug, when she's right she's right. I put my arms around her as we walk away, and she almost disappears in them, my wife, Abby.
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Post by Praline on Aug 30, 2008 15:30:53 GMT 10
Special thanks to Mrs. Eyre for helping me out with Ivica, he's a handful.
Part IV: "Make Room for Tata"
So we're going on our honeymoon after all . . . Kerry caved. At the airport, I have to take off my shoes, and they rip apart my carry-on bag which Abby seems to find amusing.
"Seems they've got your number"
"Har, har, har".
I buy her some trashy gossip magazines and gum for the plane ride while we wait. I'm watching her. She seems relaxed, but every now and then she bites her lip. I know she's a little nervous, and not about flying.
We're on the plane, on our way to our Honeymoon, on my way home. We doze off and on. Eat that terrible food. Watch a really bad movie. Fool around under those cheap blankets just a little bit; she teases me about joining the mile high club.
"The what?"
She explains.
I shake my head laughing, "Abby if you think there's room for someone even as small as you with me in one of those lavatories, you are mistaken."
She giggles.
I'm not worried about going home and finding ghosts there. I know they're gone. I'm more worried about Abby comparing herself to the specters in her own head. I've thought about telling her what happened on my walk that morning, but she's already worried about our kid being bipolar, I don't want to add schizophrenia to the list. No that's a cop out. It just doesn't seem right to talk to Abby about Danijela yet. I'm not sure if it's her or me.
As soon as we land, I'm free. No worries, I'm drinking it all in, the sounds, the smells, the voices of home. We rent a car and drive to Vodice on the coast. Abby falls into a deep sleep this time. I love driving in Croatia. Somehow it's freer, fewer traffic lights, fewer cars once you're out of the city, and no highway patrol to speak of. I roll down the window just enough so that the cool air ruffles my hair, but doesn't blow on her. I let one hand take control of the wheel while the other moves the clutch at just the right moment. My feet go up and down in an easy rhythm when I shift, clutch down, give it the gas, release the clutch, the engine purrs. Sex and cars, they're two of the best things in life.
When we arrive it's pitch black, not like in Chicago, here you can see the stars. I park the car facing the house so I can use the headlights to see the door. This turns out to be a good thing. Ivica told me he would leave me a key under a rock in front of the house, and it turns out that there are about 20 rocks in front of the house. I rub my eyes. I so did not need this. I find the key and open the house. In the bedroom I pull down the covers. I carry Abby in and tell her to stay asleep. She must be so tired. It's a long journey for a pregnant woman. I slip off her shoes with one hand while the other undoes her jeans pulling them down with the practiced skill that it is, of course she's usually awake.
I bring in our bags and get into the bed next to her, I think that I'll have trouble falling asleep, but I don't. I wake up before her and drive to the market for some food for later and a paper. Then the ocean calls me, I walk down and stare at the waves and the water looks so good I can't resist. I look around and the place is deserted. What the hell? I pull off my clothes and dive in. I feel like I've found the fountain of youth. I try to imagine skinny dipping in Chicago, but the idea is absurd and I dismiss it quickly.
After my swim, I use my t-shirt and dry off and pull on my pants. Back in the house, I make myself some coffee that I bring down to the beach with my paper. She finds me like this soon after. She's er in a good mood and gets to down to business quickly. I find myself a little shy, I've never been given to public displays, not that anyone's around. I feel like a kid at my father's house, but I don't put up much of a fight. I told you she's like a roller coaster. I'm feeling anything but queasy right now. She works me up into such a frenzy that I take her with a little more force than I intend right there in the sand. After, as I hold her, I'm feeling a bit ashamed. Just when I'm going to open my mouth to apologize, she sits bolt upright, looks down at me and says, "Is there a place to get a good pizza around here?" I guess she's okay.
At the end of the week, we drive to Dubrovnik we're going to my brother Damir's house. I wanted to tell them our news in person. They don't know we're married and they don't know about the baby. She's biting her lip again. We stop for gas and when she gets out to go to the bathroom the attendant asks me if Abby's a tourist, he heard us talking, before I can answer he says,
"American tourists my favorite, easy on the eyes and easy between the sheets."
I shake my head and let him know Abby is no tourist she's my wife, and anything but easy. He misses my joke, but gets my point.
As we drive away, I sugarcoat when she asks what he said. She knows it. Being in step, it's getting to be a habit now, just like the missteps were last time. Suddenly, I'm overwhelmed by the sense that everything I want in the whole world is with me in this car, and the best part is I know she knows it too.
When we get to the house, everyone's on us in an instant. It's Abby that tells my father we're married. We didn't discuss it, but somehow that feels right. I'm too busy anyway. Josip, my nephew, is complaining that he can't find the tooth he lost earlier in the day, he put it in his pocket for safe keeping, and now it's gone. I help in the search by picking him up by his ankles and giving him a few good shakes. My sister-in-law, Tatijana wraps me in her arms, and asks all the details that women always want to know. I catch Abby's eye, it's her prize, I want her to tell them. She tries, but American expressions aren't known worldwide whatever Americans want to believe. 'Shotgun wedding' falls flat, so she just says it.
Here's one they could probably figure out "so quiet you could hear a pin drop." Eventually Damir speaks to me in Croatian, as if he needs confirmation in our own language, I give it to him "Da".
Then Damir engulfs Abby and sends her out to Tata who left before the news. I nod my head, that's her place too. The rest of my family descends on me. I let myself sink into their warmth.
We go out to dinner that night. It's nice to have all my family in one place. My family. Its felt so small for such a long time, tonight it feels well, huge. We sit outside in a café. Damir, more the gentleman then me, gives Abby his coat, before I think of offering mine, and he lets me know it. Older brothers never change. Abby gives as good as she gets from my clan, and its nice to see them all so comfortable together. Damir, not so much the gentleman after a few more drinks, cuts Abby off when she's trying to make a point. I look at her and shrug "In laws". I mean it as a joke, but it reminds me that I have my own in laws too, which is not so funny, but that's for another day.
The next morning, I get up and go downstairs. Tatijana asks after Abby and offers me breakfast. I tell her I'll wait for Abby, but I take a cup of coffee and go out to their garden. Tata finds me there.
"Let's walk" he says, and I know I'm in trouble, it's never good when a Kovac man wants to walk.
I follow his lead.
He doesn't waste much time. "So are you happy, does she treat you well?"
"Of course, don't I look happy?"
He grunts, "Does she cook for you, do your laundry, take care of your house?"
"She's my wife not my maid." I bristle for Abby.
"Good, a man your age should be able to take care of himself. Besides she's your wife, not your mother, she should have better things to do. Your Mama now, she was useless in the kitchen, but in the bedroom . . .."
I stop walking, that is just way too much information "Tata don't . . .."
He interupts me and keeps walking so I have to take longer strides to keep up.
"Don't be such a prude Luka, how do you think you got here? So you're staying in Chicago?"
"We bought a house."
"Luka, whenever people who are married, discuss their lives with others they always say "we decided". This, is a bunch of horse shit. Two people don't decide anything. One person makes a choice and then the other can agree or disagree, but this, this crap about both deciding, well, let me tell you soon enough it becomes clear that sometimes you decide, sometimes she decides but you never both really decide. Do you understand?"
Well not entirely, I'm not sure if I agree but I'm beginning to get hungry. I don't really want to spend the morning debating this. "I think I know what you mean."
He stops walking abruptly. "Who decided?"
I stop and turn around "What, to stay in Chicago?"
He waves his hand to dismiss me, "No, that's no decision, that's inertia, who decided about the baby?"
I'm surprised. I know that whatever he said to Abby last night she was pleased. I know he's happy about the baby, he nearly broke all my ribs when they came in the house. I look at him more closely. He hasn't slept well. Apparently something about this is stuck in his craw. I take pity on him. I'm a father too after all. I'm not sure which answer is the one he wants, and I'm not sure what to say. I made a decision in Croatia, Abby made one in Chicago, and her's was better? Besides this is between me and Abby, no room for Ivica here. Then, it comes to me, what to say.
I look at him hard in the eyes, "Apparently, you."
I can't remember ever seeing Ivica speachless, but he is, he looks flustered and confused. I can maintain my composure for only a few more seconds, and then a big grin spreads over my face.
It takes him a few seconds to work through his confusion. Then he roars, and I'm laughing too.
He slaps me on the back, a little too hard, and grabs my head between his hands to pull me in for a kiss. "You haven't made me laugh in years." He ruffles my hair, there are tears in his eyes, and I feel mine burn too.
"See, I told you she would be good for you, this Abby, my Abby."
I nod my head "Yes, Tata"
And I feel the pride swell in my chest. I'm proud of Tata's Abby. And I'm proud of myself too.
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Post by Praline on Sept 2, 2008 16:02:00 GMT 10
Part V. "The Return Trip"
From Dubrovik we go to Zagreb. On the way I tell her about the time my friends and I hit a goat during a medical school road trip and tried to resuscitate it. She laughs but she looks at me like I'm crazy, or maybe just not quite whom she thought she married.
We arrive at my father's apartment. Tata managed to get his place presentable which is more of a miracle then she knows. Still it's strange to be there with Abby. Especially weird is that we'll be sleeping in my father's bed which I tell her. I tell her that cramped and anxious trysts in my small bed are what I remember. Then it happens. It just comes out. I don't even think about it. I'm just talking, and I find I'm talking about Danijela. Not just anything about her, but about us in bed fooling around before we were married. How she always knew where to draw the line. I'm down the road before I know I've started. When I realize what I've done, I get nervous. I'm not really sure where to take it. I'm trying to gauge it by her. She doesn't break our gaze, although I do. I know she's doing this for me. And then I know its time to tell her.
"She's gone," still she doesn't get it so I spell it out.
"No, I mean-gone. I can't feel her here," I can see the tears in her eyes, but mine are dry.
"No ghosts, Abby, no ghosts."
We look at each other for a long moment.
I dry her tears with my thumbs. She wraps her arms around me and presses her face into my chest. My arms go around her and we hang on tight for a long time. I don't remember how long we stood there locked together. But I do remember that on that particular occasion, we didn't make it to Tata's bed, and cramped and anxious had nothing to do with it.
Last time I was here I spent a lot of time thinking about what happened and how to go on. I made a lot of progress. It was that progress that made being with Abby again possible. When I first came to Chicago, I thought if I could just keep the cold water turned off, keep the thoughts out of my head, that I would be okay. But I couldn't keep up the flow of hot water, the pipes burst so to speak with the mugging. When that happened there was a deluge of despair, and it took me a long time to get out from under. I had something horrific happen in my life, and that will always be a part of me. But it doesn't have to define me. I don't have to make it the center of my life. I can't pretend that they weren't part of my life. I don't want to pretend with Abby. And somehow, now I feel I won't have to ; Dani and Abby have made their peace too.
I show Abby around Zagreb, the places that are important to me, the ocean, tell her stories, fill in the gaps. I hope someday, she'll do the same for me.
When the time comes to leave it feels okay, I know the next time we come, we'll bring the baby. It will be good for Ivica, it will be good for all of us. Besides, I don't want our child to think only half of their family is crazy.
When we get home, I can see how exhausted and out of sorts she is. She tells me she's fine, but I know better. So I run her a bath and bring her tea in bed. Last time we were together, in the beginning at least, I didn't pay enough attention. I heard her words, well most of them, but I didn't listen for the tone of her voice, the look in her eye, catch her gestures. I didn't try to understand her. When someone has a childhood like hers, trust isn't instinctual you have to earn it. I didn't. If she couldn't trust me with the little stuff like taking a break at work when she needed to talk, sitting with her after she'd been hurt, telling her I'd miss being with her when she went out with Carter, things like that. How could she trust me with the big stuff like her addiction, her mother, her future? By the time I was paying attention it was too late, she didn't trust me. Didn't trust my motives anyway. But I'm here now, and so is she and in the end that's all there is.
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Post by Praline on Sept 9, 2008 16:06:28 GMT 10
Part V: "The Return Trip"
From Dubrovik we go to Zagreb. On the way I tell her about the time my friends and I hit a goat during a medical school road trip and tried to resuscitate it. She laughs but she looks at me like I'm crazy, or maybe just not quite whom she thought she married.
We arrive at my father's apartment. Tata managed to get his place presentable which is more of a miracle then she knows. Still it's strange to be there with Abby. Especially weird is that we'll be sleeping in my father's bed which I tell her. I tell her that cramped and anxious trysts in my small bed are what I remember. Then it happens. It just comes out. I don't even think about it. I'm just talking, and I find I'm talking about Danijela. Not just anything about her, but about us in bed fooling around before we were married. How she always knew where to draw the line. I'm down the road before I know I've started. When I realize what I've done, I get nervous. I'm not really sure where to take it. I'm trying to gauge it by her. She doesn't break our gaze, although I do. I know she's doing this for me. And then I know its time to tell her.
"She's gone," still she doesn't get it so I spell it out.
"No, I mean-gone. I can't feel her here," I can see the tears in her eyes, but mine are dry.
"No ghosts, Abby, no ghosts."
We look at each other for a long moment.
I dry her tears with my thumbs. She wraps her arms around me and presses her face into my chest. My arms go around her and we hang on tight for a long time. I don't remember how long we stood there locked together. But I do remember that on that particular occasion, we didn't make it to Tata's bed, and cramped and anxious had nothing to do with it.
Last time I was here I spent a lot of time thinking about what happened and how to go on. I made a lot of progress. It was that progress that made being with Abby again possible. When I first came to Chicago, I thought if I could just keep the cold water turned off, keep the thoughts out of my head, that I would be okay. But I couldn't keep up the flow of hot water, the pipes burst so to speak with the mugging. When that happened there was a deluge of despair, and it took me a long time to get out from under. I had something horrific happen in my life, and that will always be a part of me. But it doesn't have to define me. I don't have to make it the center of my life. I can't pretend that they weren't part of my life. I don't want to pretend with Abby. And somehow, now I feel I won't have to ; Dani and Abby have made their peace too.
I show Abby around Zagreb, the places that are important to me, the ocean, tell her stories, fill in the gaps. I hope someday, she'll do the same for me.
When the time comes to leave it feels okay, I know the next time we come, we'll bring the baby. It will be good for Ivica, it will be good for all of us. Besides, I don't want our child to think only half of their family is crazy.
When we get home, I can see how exhausted and out of sorts she is. She tells me she's fine, but I know better. So I run her a bath and bring her tea in bed. Last time we were together, in the beginning at least, I didn't pay enough attention. I heard her words, well most of them, but I didn't listen for the tone of her voice, the look in her eye, catch her gestures. I didn't try to understand her. When someone has a childhood like hers, trust isn't instinctual you have to earn it. I didn't. If she couldn't trust me with the little stuff like taking a break at work when she needed to talk, sitting with her after she'd been hurt, telling her I'd miss being with her when she went out with Carter, things like that. How could she trust me with the big stuff like her addiction, her mother, her future? By the time I was paying attention it was too late, she didn't trust me. Didn't trust my motives anyway. But I'm here now, and so is she and in the end that's all there is.
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