Post by maggie on Jun 19, 2007 6:26:23 GMT 10
As promised, a companion piece to "Ljubavi". Dedicated to la belle ZELDA, je te pense toujours. 
The Best Medicine
Abby lay in bed, a sheet pulled to her chin, forehead slick with perspiration. A throbbing sensation in her temples was little aided by the shouts from the kitchen where a certain husband of hers was trying with little success to wrangle a certain raven-haired six-year old. Kata seemed to have the feeling that her mother’s illness was a personal vendetta to prevent her from enjoying a quiet, clingy Sunday at the supermarket, their usual ritual that both treasured. Luka’s crooning voice, coercing her into any degree of submission, so long as it wasn’t leaping from chair to chair, carried into the bedroom. Her maternal instinct was overwhelmed by the feeling that if she moved, she would almost certainly pass out. Flu season had passed over the males. Danijel and Luka hadn’t had so much as a sniffle. Kata had caught it at school, passed it to her older sister, then to her mother. Anna was asleep in her own room, as incapacitated as her mother, which left Luka as his younger daughter’s third choice for a playmate. Abby could hear his patience wane and fall prey to bribery. His face peered in the door. “I’m taking her out.”
Abby smiled weakly and gave him a subtle wink, the only indication necessary that she understood. “Luka?”
He tried to keep the aggravation from his face as he reappeared. “What is it?”
“Leave Danijel. You can’t handle the both of them when she’s like this.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, simply made his way to the bed to leave a gentle kiss on her damp forehead. “I’ll pick up some crackers and broth for you both, yes?”
She gave him a smile and watched his retreating frame, already slipping back into sleep. A soft tapping at the door to the bedroom jostled her from rest, followed by a small face peering inside. Danijel cautiously made his way in before leaping unceremoniously onto the bed, churning his mother’s stomach. She reached out to smooth back his dark tufted hair that had resilience to brushing. “Easy, sweetheart.”
“Sorry.” He flashed her a grin that dissolved any ill will over his entrance, one bearing a striking resemblance to his father’s. “Tata said to keep my eyes on you.”
“I think he meant ‘keep an eye on me’.”
He nodded emphatically. “Yeah. That.” He paused and studied her carefully. “How come you didn’t go to the doctor? I always go to the doctor when I’m sick.”
Abby couldn’t help but smile. “Because I am a doctor. And so is your Tata.”
“Oh. But don’t you have to have a check-up?” The concept seemed to evade him. To his eight-year-old mind, doctors’ visits were supposed to involve being driven to County and prodded and poked by his pediatrician, followed by a sticker and something that tasted like grape poison.
“Not for the flu, sweetie.” She smiled and tousled his hair again as he mulled over her answer.
“I can check you up. I know how.” His brown eyes widened with excitement at his idea. He reached a hand over to place on his mother’s forehead. “You have a temp-a-ture.”
A grin flickered across her lips, suddenly feeling less nauseous and more amused. “Oh? What’s my temperature?”
He considered. “A thousand and three.”
“Oh my. That’s very high.”
He looked at her seriously. “Very high. You have to have medicine.”
“Uh…Tata is picking it up at the store.” She didn’t enjoy the grape poison any more than her son, though if Luka remembered to bring a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, it would be medicine enough.
“Oh. Okay.” He slid off from the comforter as his mother watched him poke around in the dresser drawer a moment. With a triumphant grin, he pulled out the spare stethoscope he knew resided there. “I need to listen to your heart now.”
It was all she could do to keep a straight face as he carefully placed the instrument over the wrong side of her chest and pulled a thoughtful face as he listened intently. “Very good. I think you just need to rest and drink plenty of juice.”
She laughed softly. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She gazed at him, the little boy who was her son, a mix of his father’s striking features and her dark eyes. As much of a handful as he could be, he shared Luka’s sensitivity, fiercely protective of his sisters and mother. His wide eyes looked back at her, brimming with curiosity at her survey of him. Abby smiled and reached out to pull him close, leaving a kiss on the top of his head.
“Ew!” He made a scene of rubbing at his head. “Stoppit! Cooties!” He was beaming, despite his performance.
“I don’t have cooties!” She reached out to catch him around the middle as he laughed, the feeling of being sick evaporating as her son dissolved into a fit of giggles in her arms. She’d feared motherhood initially, yet now, twelve years into parenting, couldn’t recall why. The three children had somehow filled a hole she hadn’t been aware existed, their smiles and laughter and every aggravating difficulty posed extraordinarily perfect. Waking up each day without Anna’s sleepy presence at the table, less of a morning person even than her mother, bleary-eyed and confused as she fumbled with her cereal…without Kata’s little body flinging itself on top of her parents to wake them, bouncing on the mattress, demanding pancakes…without Danijel’s mile-a-minute narration of breakfast, making up stories about what he had planned for his day, who he’d meet, where he’d go…she couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to. Twelve years ago Luka had promised her she’d never regret motherhood, and as her second of three experiments with just that clambered up beside her, presumably to insist they watch television together, she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt he’d been right.
The Best Medicine
Abby lay in bed, a sheet pulled to her chin, forehead slick with perspiration. A throbbing sensation in her temples was little aided by the shouts from the kitchen where a certain husband of hers was trying with little success to wrangle a certain raven-haired six-year old. Kata seemed to have the feeling that her mother’s illness was a personal vendetta to prevent her from enjoying a quiet, clingy Sunday at the supermarket, their usual ritual that both treasured. Luka’s crooning voice, coercing her into any degree of submission, so long as it wasn’t leaping from chair to chair, carried into the bedroom. Her maternal instinct was overwhelmed by the feeling that if she moved, she would almost certainly pass out. Flu season had passed over the males. Danijel and Luka hadn’t had so much as a sniffle. Kata had caught it at school, passed it to her older sister, then to her mother. Anna was asleep in her own room, as incapacitated as her mother, which left Luka as his younger daughter’s third choice for a playmate. Abby could hear his patience wane and fall prey to bribery. His face peered in the door. “I’m taking her out.”
Abby smiled weakly and gave him a subtle wink, the only indication necessary that she understood. “Luka?”
He tried to keep the aggravation from his face as he reappeared. “What is it?”
“Leave Danijel. You can’t handle the both of them when she’s like this.”
He didn’t need to be told twice, simply made his way to the bed to leave a gentle kiss on her damp forehead. “I’ll pick up some crackers and broth for you both, yes?”
She gave him a smile and watched his retreating frame, already slipping back into sleep. A soft tapping at the door to the bedroom jostled her from rest, followed by a small face peering inside. Danijel cautiously made his way in before leaping unceremoniously onto the bed, churning his mother’s stomach. She reached out to smooth back his dark tufted hair that had resilience to brushing. “Easy, sweetheart.”
“Sorry.” He flashed her a grin that dissolved any ill will over his entrance, one bearing a striking resemblance to his father’s. “Tata said to keep my eyes on you.”
“I think he meant ‘keep an eye on me’.”
He nodded emphatically. “Yeah. That.” He paused and studied her carefully. “How come you didn’t go to the doctor? I always go to the doctor when I’m sick.”
Abby couldn’t help but smile. “Because I am a doctor. And so is your Tata.”
“Oh. But don’t you have to have a check-up?” The concept seemed to evade him. To his eight-year-old mind, doctors’ visits were supposed to involve being driven to County and prodded and poked by his pediatrician, followed by a sticker and something that tasted like grape poison.
“Not for the flu, sweetie.” She smiled and tousled his hair again as he mulled over her answer.
“I can check you up. I know how.” His brown eyes widened with excitement at his idea. He reached a hand over to place on his mother’s forehead. “You have a temp-a-ture.”
A grin flickered across her lips, suddenly feeling less nauseous and more amused. “Oh? What’s my temperature?”
He considered. “A thousand and three.”
“Oh my. That’s very high.”
He looked at her seriously. “Very high. You have to have medicine.”
“Uh…Tata is picking it up at the store.” She didn’t enjoy the grape poison any more than her son, though if Luka remembered to bring a pint of Ben and Jerry’s, it would be medicine enough.
“Oh. Okay.” He slid off from the comforter as his mother watched him poke around in the dresser drawer a moment. With a triumphant grin, he pulled out the spare stethoscope he knew resided there. “I need to listen to your heart now.”
It was all she could do to keep a straight face as he carefully placed the instrument over the wrong side of her chest and pulled a thoughtful face as he listened intently. “Very good. I think you just need to rest and drink plenty of juice.”
She laughed softly. “Thanks. I’ll do that.” She gazed at him, the little boy who was her son, a mix of his father’s striking features and her dark eyes. As much of a handful as he could be, he shared Luka’s sensitivity, fiercely protective of his sisters and mother. His wide eyes looked back at her, brimming with curiosity at her survey of him. Abby smiled and reached out to pull him close, leaving a kiss on the top of his head.
“Ew!” He made a scene of rubbing at his head. “Stoppit! Cooties!” He was beaming, despite his performance.
“I don’t have cooties!” She reached out to catch him around the middle as he laughed, the feeling of being sick evaporating as her son dissolved into a fit of giggles in her arms. She’d feared motherhood initially, yet now, twelve years into parenting, couldn’t recall why. The three children had somehow filled a hole she hadn’t been aware existed, their smiles and laughter and every aggravating difficulty posed extraordinarily perfect. Waking up each day without Anna’s sleepy presence at the table, less of a morning person even than her mother, bleary-eyed and confused as she fumbled with her cereal…without Kata’s little body flinging itself on top of her parents to wake them, bouncing on the mattress, demanding pancakes…without Danijel’s mile-a-minute narration of breakfast, making up stories about what he had planned for his day, who he’d meet, where he’d go…she couldn’t imagine it. Didn’t want to. Twelve years ago Luka had promised her she’d never regret motherhood, and as her second of three experiments with just that clambered up beside her, presumably to insist they watch television together, she knew beyond any shadow of a doubt he’d been right.
All of them.
