Post by maggie on Mar 17, 2007 14:14:01 GMT 10
Chapter Twenty-One: I Know
“You sure you’re up to this?” Luka’s lips were pinched into a concerned frown as he held her coat for her, the idea of her going to meet Carter unsettling in infinite ways.
She nodded, a curt, resigned jerk of the chin that signified of course she wasn’t but never would be. It would take all her composure, all her stubbornness, all her ingrained skill of dissociating to make it through the encounter. “Let’s just go.” Her voice was deceivingly steady, but her hand shook as she gripped his, the clasp unbroken as they drove in silence to the river. Neutral territory, common ground. As common as they could find. He found a place to park not far from their arranged destination, brow furrowed as he gave her one last glance, eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite identify.
His gloved hand reached across to sweep a few hairs from her face. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”
The corners of her mouth curled into a forced smile, tight, unfooling. She gave him a small nod and slid out from the safety of the car into the brisk cold, eyes searching his almost frantically, begging for an out. He reached out one hand, a knit cap dangling from two fingers. The nurturing gesture was not lost, and she took it, turned, left him, raising the fabric to her nose to breathe in his lingering scent as soon as she was out of sight. It was barely a block to where they’d arranged to meet, not far from where she and Luka had kissed that evening in the snow. Now, the ground was an unseemly brown, smatterings of melting snow every few feet contrasting with the soggy lumps of earth that constituted thawing terrain. The air was almost sticky with frigid moisture, the end of March sputtering pathetically into April, the limbo of seasons. Large chunks of ice were visible, bobbing in the river like upchucked snowcones, frothing at the edges as they mixed back into the current. A familiar silhouette sharpened and came into focus as she strode slowly towards the bench, and her fingers choked the material of the hat, still clutched in one sweaty palm, as though the presence of it would be enough to drive Carter away. She stopped in front of him, unsure of the appropriate greeting for the situation.
He provided the only phrase sure not to drive her off. “I brought you a coffee. Black, three sugars. Still how you take it?”
She sat and accepted the cardboard cup, grateful for the token. “Thanks.”
“I thought it might help to redeem me for being such an asshole yesterday.”
“Hmm. And how exactly were you planning on making up for the last three months?” A small fire has been lit within, but it died just as quickly. “Sorry. Not the time.”
He shrugged almost nonchalantly. “I deserved it.”
“Yes, you did.” The hot liquid slid from the plastic top into her mouth, rolling across her tongue before making its way down her throat, filling her with a much-needed source of comfort. Twice the redemption for decent coffee. “Care to try and explain any of it?”
His shoulders slumped into an almost adolescent shrug, like a teenaged boy who’d been caught in the act and questioned. Almost impervious to the repercussions of his actions, it seemed, but the faint flush of his cheeks gave away his chagrin. It wasn’t anything but resentment for his shortcomings, resentment that someone else had succeeded where he’d failed. “I don’t have any answers. Not right now, at least.” She rubbed her thumb over the hem of the cap, still balled in her fist, waiting for the inevitable inquiry. He didn’t make her wait long. “So...how’re you feeling?”
Her tongue slid out from her mouth to skim the chapped perimeter of her lips, almost snakelike. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Yes. I’m asking out of genuine concern.” He raised an eyebrow. “I do care.”
She drew her knees up to her chest, eyes glassy, faraway. “Like shit. I feel like shit.” She began jostling her knee up and down nervously, frantically. “I’m bleeding out my child, Carter, how the f**k do you think I feel?”
He gazed off at the river, silent, for a few moments, then cast a sideways glance at Abby. “You love him?”
The muscles in her jaw tensed, relaxed, tensed again, her eyes steely as she purposely stared at a withered oak a few feet off, grounding her. “Is that really your business?”
“I wasn’t asking to be nosy.” Their lines of sight diverged in almost opposite directions, as though if they actually looked at one another, it would inevitably shatter the fragile ceasefire. “I’m assuming you were planning on raising the baby with him. And that, given your sudden change of heart concerning motherhood, something had to have happened to convince you.” He nipped the edges of his cuticle, almost meticulous in his words. Neither sensitive nor cruel. “So?”
Motherhood. Child. An acid taste swelled in her mouth, replaced by the bittersweet flavor of coffee. “Yes.” Her lips pursed into an almost sour pucker at the admission, waiting for a torrent of jealous reasoning.
She heard only resignation. “We made a lousy couple, Abby. Great friends...but a lousy couple.”
A wry snort escaped her. “You’re just now realizing that?”
“Obstinacy is one of those rare commonalities we share.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back into the wooden slats of the bench tinged with dark stains from icicles melting overhead. “So what are we supposed to be talking about?”
She rubbed her hands together apprehensively. She’d braced herself preemptively for his lacking of subtly, but she wasn’t completely unscathed. She found herself almost wishing he’d sugarcoat his words, for once. “Something to the effect of closure, I think. Sorry, I forgot to check the protocol on all this.”
He shook his head, almost amused. “Abby...I don’t know what to say. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe not. But it would be stupid of me to act like I hadn’t been opposed to the idea of you having the baby. We both recall what was said.”
The observation went almost unacknowledged, simply hung there, neither accepted nor denied. Both knew the implications of his statement. Relinquishing his claims to grief...to the baby...to her. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”
“I know.” He hesitated before giving her hand a gentle squeeze, unfazed by the flinching reaction. “I’m sorry it did. For you.” The sincerity in his voice was evident. She’d missed it in the fallout of their relationship.
“I know.” She shivered slightly in the cold, or perhaps from the flood of emotion tied in knots within.
He glanced at his hands, red and stiff in the cold. “So what now?”
“What do you mean?” Her voice had returned to the dull monotone.
“I mean...I’m not sure what I mean.” He frowned. “I guess I’m asking if you need anything from me. Or want anything.”
The breeze whipped her hair gently in her face, slapping gently at her cheeks and nose. “No. Not really.” What she needed, she’d find waiting not far off, likely listening to NPR and drinking a thermos of hot coffee, fretting over her well-being. “So...back to Africa?”
A small smile emerged on his lips. “Somebody’s got to save the world.”
She huffed softly. “If you’re the world’s last resort, I don’t know how much faith I have in the future.”
The smile flickered on his face again. “There’s the sarcasm I know and love. For a second, I’d wondered.”
A thought played in her mind, one that had plagued her before. Now it simply begged for recognition, in this new turn life had taken. “Did you?” The question was almost completely lacking in emotional investment. “Love me, I mean?”
He let out a long sigh. “Yes...I still do.” His hand twitched with the desire to hold hers, but he resisted. “But we both know it wasn’t enough. Or the right kind. Or something to that effect.”
A small peal of laughter emitted from her, half wistful, half scornful. “Why do I know exactly what you mean?”
“I don’t know. Can’t be a good sign.”
She shook her head. “God, we’re both certifiable, aren’t we?” The conversation bordered on lighthearted, and would have been, if not for circumstance.
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” He nipped at his thumbnail again. “We’d have to be, really. I don’t know how we let it go on as long as we did.”
“Probably because we’re both incredibly stubborn. And slightly masochistic.”
“Another of our shared vices.” He leaned heavily on the bench and turned to look at her. “I hope you know I do want you to be happy. Even if it is with that overrated hack of a Eurodoc.” The corners of his mouth twitched.
Her wry smile was only partly forced. “Gee, thanks. I’ll relay the message.”
“I’ve seen how he looks at you, Abby. We never looked at each other that way.” He rose to his feet, extended a hand to her. “Just so long as he doesn’t run off to Africa
again...I’ve already saved his ass enough times.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The apartment seemed cleaner somehow as they returned, fresher. As though they’d cleared some of the debris weighing them down. Luka’s warm hands sliding the jacket from her shoulders were the first welcome human contact she’d felt in three days. She leaned into him heavily, the man who looked at her that way, even now. Step One: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable. Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. The words of page fifteen were forever ingrained in her memory. A Power greater than ourselves. Her eyes met his, for the first time, not looking away. She’d give into need. “Would you...” The words came uneasily. “Would you help me in the shower? Please?”
It was as though he could sense her need for reassurance, his touch never leaving her as he led her to the bathroom, ran the shower, helped her undress. Her gaze fell on him as the doors slid closed, the wordless thanks lingering as her figure was obscured by the heavy glass doors. He sat on the closed toilet seat as her silhouette was visible, water pouring over her, aware his presence was the only thing she wanted at the moment; no words, no smiles, no attempts at cheering her. Simply being.
He could feel the atmosphere of the bathroom change before her hand pressed against the glass, before she mumbled his name, an almost strangled cry. “Luka.”
Dark crimson on white porcelain, sliding from her ankles to drain, pulled her senses along with it, all the strength she’d gathered swirling down the drain with the bloody reminder. Her eyes closed against it all as he helped her sit, turned off the shower. She didn’t shrug off his arms, encircling her, only drew her body into a tight ball as sobs racked her. His head rested on hers, her damp hair against his cheek like silky, brown tears. “I know...I know.”
“You sure you’re up to this?” Luka’s lips were pinched into a concerned frown as he held her coat for her, the idea of her going to meet Carter unsettling in infinite ways.
She nodded, a curt, resigned jerk of the chin that signified of course she wasn’t but never would be. It would take all her composure, all her stubbornness, all her ingrained skill of dissociating to make it through the encounter. “Let’s just go.” Her voice was deceivingly steady, but her hand shook as she gripped his, the clasp unbroken as they drove in silence to the river. Neutral territory, common ground. As common as they could find. He found a place to park not far from their arranged destination, brow furrowed as he gave her one last glance, eyes filled with something she couldn’t quite identify.
His gloved hand reached across to sweep a few hairs from her face. “I’ll be here when you’re finished.”
The corners of her mouth curled into a forced smile, tight, unfooling. She gave him a small nod and slid out from the safety of the car into the brisk cold, eyes searching his almost frantically, begging for an out. He reached out one hand, a knit cap dangling from two fingers. The nurturing gesture was not lost, and she took it, turned, left him, raising the fabric to her nose to breathe in his lingering scent as soon as she was out of sight. It was barely a block to where they’d arranged to meet, not far from where she and Luka had kissed that evening in the snow. Now, the ground was an unseemly brown, smatterings of melting snow every few feet contrasting with the soggy lumps of earth that constituted thawing terrain. The air was almost sticky with frigid moisture, the end of March sputtering pathetically into April, the limbo of seasons. Large chunks of ice were visible, bobbing in the river like upchucked snowcones, frothing at the edges as they mixed back into the current. A familiar silhouette sharpened and came into focus as she strode slowly towards the bench, and her fingers choked the material of the hat, still clutched in one sweaty palm, as though the presence of it would be enough to drive Carter away. She stopped in front of him, unsure of the appropriate greeting for the situation.
He provided the only phrase sure not to drive her off. “I brought you a coffee. Black, three sugars. Still how you take it?”
She sat and accepted the cardboard cup, grateful for the token. “Thanks.”
“I thought it might help to redeem me for being such an asshole yesterday.”
“Hmm. And how exactly were you planning on making up for the last three months?” A small fire has been lit within, but it died just as quickly. “Sorry. Not the time.”
He shrugged almost nonchalantly. “I deserved it.”
“Yes, you did.” The hot liquid slid from the plastic top into her mouth, rolling across her tongue before making its way down her throat, filling her with a much-needed source of comfort. Twice the redemption for decent coffee. “Care to try and explain any of it?”
His shoulders slumped into an almost adolescent shrug, like a teenaged boy who’d been caught in the act and questioned. Almost impervious to the repercussions of his actions, it seemed, but the faint flush of his cheeks gave away his chagrin. It wasn’t anything but resentment for his shortcomings, resentment that someone else had succeeded where he’d failed. “I don’t have any answers. Not right now, at least.” She rubbed her thumb over the hem of the cap, still balled in her fist, waiting for the inevitable inquiry. He didn’t make her wait long. “So...how’re you feeling?”
Her tongue slid out from her mouth to skim the chapped perimeter of her lips, almost snakelike. “You really want me to answer that?”
“Yes. I’m asking out of genuine concern.” He raised an eyebrow. “I do care.”
She drew her knees up to her chest, eyes glassy, faraway. “Like shit. I feel like shit.” She began jostling her knee up and down nervously, frantically. “I’m bleeding out my child, Carter, how the f**k do you think I feel?”
He gazed off at the river, silent, for a few moments, then cast a sideways glance at Abby. “You love him?”
The muscles in her jaw tensed, relaxed, tensed again, her eyes steely as she purposely stared at a withered oak a few feet off, grounding her. “Is that really your business?”
“I wasn’t asking to be nosy.” Their lines of sight diverged in almost opposite directions, as though if they actually looked at one another, it would inevitably shatter the fragile ceasefire. “I’m assuming you were planning on raising the baby with him. And that, given your sudden change of heart concerning motherhood, something had to have happened to convince you.” He nipped the edges of his cuticle, almost meticulous in his words. Neither sensitive nor cruel. “So?”
Motherhood. Child. An acid taste swelled in her mouth, replaced by the bittersweet flavor of coffee. “Yes.” Her lips pursed into an almost sour pucker at the admission, waiting for a torrent of jealous reasoning.
She heard only resignation. “We made a lousy couple, Abby. Great friends...but a lousy couple.”
A wry snort escaped her. “You’re just now realizing that?”
“Obstinacy is one of those rare commonalities we share.” He crossed his arms over his chest, leaned back into the wooden slats of the bench tinged with dark stains from icicles melting overhead. “So what are we supposed to be talking about?”
She rubbed her hands together apprehensively. She’d braced herself preemptively for his lacking of subtly, but she wasn’t completely unscathed. She found herself almost wishing he’d sugarcoat his words, for once. “Something to the effect of closure, I think. Sorry, I forgot to check the protocol on all this.”
He shook his head, almost amused. “Abby...I don’t know what to say. Maybe I was wrong. Maybe not. But it would be stupid of me to act like I hadn’t been opposed to the idea of you having the baby. We both recall what was said.”
The observation went almost unacknowledged, simply hung there, neither accepted nor denied. Both knew the implications of his statement. Relinquishing his claims to grief...to the baby...to her. “I didn’t want it to end like this.”
“I know.” He hesitated before giving her hand a gentle squeeze, unfazed by the flinching reaction. “I’m sorry it did. For you.” The sincerity in his voice was evident. She’d missed it in the fallout of their relationship.
“I know.” She shivered slightly in the cold, or perhaps from the flood of emotion tied in knots within.
He glanced at his hands, red and stiff in the cold. “So what now?”
“What do you mean?” Her voice had returned to the dull monotone.
“I mean...I’m not sure what I mean.” He frowned. “I guess I’m asking if you need anything from me. Or want anything.”
The breeze whipped her hair gently in her face, slapping gently at her cheeks and nose. “No. Not really.” What she needed, she’d find waiting not far off, likely listening to NPR and drinking a thermos of hot coffee, fretting over her well-being. “So...back to Africa?”
A small smile emerged on his lips. “Somebody’s got to save the world.”
She huffed softly. “If you’re the world’s last resort, I don’t know how much faith I have in the future.”
The smile flickered on his face again. “There’s the sarcasm I know and love. For a second, I’d wondered.”
A thought played in her mind, one that had plagued her before. Now it simply begged for recognition, in this new turn life had taken. “Did you?” The question was almost completely lacking in emotional investment. “Love me, I mean?”
He let out a long sigh. “Yes...I still do.” His hand twitched with the desire to hold hers, but he resisted. “But we both know it wasn’t enough. Or the right kind. Or something to that effect.”
A small peal of laughter emitted from her, half wistful, half scornful. “Why do I know exactly what you mean?”
“I don’t know. Can’t be a good sign.”
She shook her head. “God, we’re both certifiable, aren’t we?” The conversation bordered on lighthearted, and would have been, if not for circumstance.
“I wouldn’t doubt it.” He nipped at his thumbnail again. “We’d have to be, really. I don’t know how we let it go on as long as we did.”
“Probably because we’re both incredibly stubborn. And slightly masochistic.”
“Another of our shared vices.” He leaned heavily on the bench and turned to look at her. “I hope you know I do want you to be happy. Even if it is with that overrated hack of a Eurodoc.” The corners of his mouth twitched.
Her wry smile was only partly forced. “Gee, thanks. I’ll relay the message.”
“I’ve seen how he looks at you, Abby. We never looked at each other that way.” He rose to his feet, extended a hand to her. “Just so long as he doesn’t run off to Africa
again...I’ve already saved his ass enough times.”
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
The apartment seemed cleaner somehow as they returned, fresher. As though they’d cleared some of the debris weighing them down. Luka’s warm hands sliding the jacket from her shoulders were the first welcome human contact she’d felt in three days. She leaned into him heavily, the man who looked at her that way, even now. Step One: We admitted we were powerless over alcohol and that our lives had become unmanageable. Step Two: Came to believe that a Power greater than ourselves could restore us to sanity. The words of page fifteen were forever ingrained in her memory. A Power greater than ourselves. Her eyes met his, for the first time, not looking away. She’d give into need. “Would you...” The words came uneasily. “Would you help me in the shower? Please?”
It was as though he could sense her need for reassurance, his touch never leaving her as he led her to the bathroom, ran the shower, helped her undress. Her gaze fell on him as the doors slid closed, the wordless thanks lingering as her figure was obscured by the heavy glass doors. He sat on the closed toilet seat as her silhouette was visible, water pouring over her, aware his presence was the only thing she wanted at the moment; no words, no smiles, no attempts at cheering her. Simply being.
He could feel the atmosphere of the bathroom change before her hand pressed against the glass, before she mumbled his name, an almost strangled cry. “Luka.”
Dark crimson on white porcelain, sliding from her ankles to drain, pulled her senses along with it, all the strength she’d gathered swirling down the drain with the bloody reminder. Her eyes closed against it all as he helped her sit, turned off the shower. She didn’t shrug off his arms, encircling her, only drew her body into a tight ball as sobs racked her. His head rested on hers, her damp hair against his cheek like silky, brown tears. “I know...I know.”