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them!!
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The night was cold - she felt the bitter air numb her skin, but she could not bring herself to care enough to even seek shelter. Not yet.
Wind tore at her coat, blowing it back from her shoulders; she looked up briefly, sniffing at the pale night sky as she debated fastening the buttons, noting dim stars obscured by the glare of the Chicago skyline.
Vague recollections of bright, shimmering stars stirred in shadowy corners of her memory, but belonged to a time long past. A time before her life had gone so horribly awry.
When was the last time she had really been in control? She liked to think the majority of the last five years, since she sobered up and left Richard. But that was not necessarily true - no addict could ever really possess unhindered control again; some measure of power always belonged to the disease, the constant temptation. The temptation she had given into.
The reasons were as mysterious to her as they must have been to Carter. She had seen the disappointed look in his eyes, the contempt for her wasted five years and feeble effort at being his sponsor.
The little drink that marked the beginning, on her birthday, with Joyce, was the most anticlimactic fall she could have envisioned. But Joyce was a new person, someone who was not familiar with the weak and vulnerable Abby, so clearly discernible in her alcoholism.
To this new woman, Abby could invent herself as the stronger, more independent person she hoped she could be.
And even now, here she was walking toward Luka's apartment. She let him take her in because she could not bear staying in her own home. So much for her idealized strength.
She needed a drink. Somehow her thoughts always seemed to cycle back to a form of blame and a need for escape. Very common in alcoholics and her own mind, she knew, but the pure repetition of it never ceased to astound her. In many respects, it was similar to the pattern she shared with her mother: the cycle was not apparent until it was over, but, upon inspection, it was invariably precise.
She shouldn't go back there again. She should go to a bar and get bombed; she should go to a meeting; she should return to her own apartment. Abby was just pacing in front of the building now, as her mind fought its battle.
Vainly, she tried to rationalize her discomfort in staying with Luka any longer. She knew the truth, though - that when he had checked her eye that fateful morning she had felt a wave of emotion like no other, and that terrified her.
Her right to feel such things about Luka had long since passed, and now they were interfering with her life. They had to be put away. with a drink. No! She shook her head again, staring at the door to the building as though it was a demon she must defeat. Should she stay or should she go?
******
Luka felt the knot of dread in his stomach before he consciously realized what it was. It must have woken him; there was no other reason to blink at the blaring red letters of his alarm clock, four hours before they were supposed to sound.
His eyes scanned the room, searching for something out of place, even as his ears strained for the remnant of a noise that might have disturbed him. Suddenly, he knew - he had not heard Abby come in.
She never made a lot of noise, and rarely woke him, but somewhere in his mind there was always a confirmation of her secure presence that this night lacked somehow. Two-thirty.
She had been scheduled until twelve, and should have been back by then. He momentarily chastised himself - she was a grown woman, after all - but eventually conceded to his need to verify her safety.
He flinched a bit as the soles of his feet touched the icy floor, then padded lightly down the hall and into the living room.
Eyes fully adjusted, he was able to pick out the lack of expected detail: Abby's shoes were not by the door; her coat was not on the peg; her purse was missing from the table.
The feeling of nervous anticipation grew as each step took him closer to the couch. He found himself willing her to be on the other side, just out of his line of sight.
Luka let out a deep breath as his wish was granted. Abby lay curled on the couch, pressed tightly against the back cushion. Moonlight bathed her fully clothed form as his eyes took her in; she looked. fragile, somehow.
Clouds shifted in the night sky outside Luka's window, adjusting the rays of pale light to Abby's face. Previously obscured tearstains became suddenly pronounced in the new light, a fresh addition forming in the corner of one eye. Kneeling before her, he reached out a slightly trembling hand to brush away the tear - as though months of pent-up tenderness and concern manifested itself in that one gentle gesture.
Her eyes flew open as his fingers made contact with her cool skin. His expression became more concerned as he realized just how cold she was.
Their eyes each searched the other's, not knowing exactly what they were looking for. Luka's thumb caressed her cheek as her eyes seemed to fluctuate between resignedness and fire. "I didn't mean to wake you," Abby finally whispered, her need to break the silence overwhelming.
"You didn't," he murmured, still searching for what he could not find. She opened her mouth again to say more, but hesitated as Luka shook his head. "Shhh," he hushed her gently as he slid his free arm under hear head and swept her up, cradling her like a child.
She tried so hard to act strong; it was this front of invulnerability that had so divided them in their romantic relationship. In the beginning, when he had needed someone, she had been there and was comfortable in her position of control. Later, though, when her emotional world came crashing down, she pushed him away rather than show any weakness. This display of frailty now cut him like a knife. For Abby to allow this visibility of her emotions was more than she had done through their whole relationship.
Part of her screamed to fight him, to lie back down and be alone, but that half of her mind was exhausted. Instead, Abby gave into the lonely, vulnerable part of her that was finding some comfort in Luka's embrace, however temporary it would be. She did not say more, just relaxed into his comforting grasp and was soon fast asleep.
Luka reveled in the feel of her, as she rested in his arms; she was his in this moment, his in a way she could never be in waking hours - she fought it too hard. He had always felt their most intimate moments were those she did not even realize happened, when she was asleep and he would stroke her hair, or whisper to her so tenderly, communicating words that always seemed too trite when her eyes stared back at him.
Now he was whisked back to those days, the days before both of them managed to so irrevocably scar their relationship. It had been a joint effort, total destruction in their wake.
Closing his eyes, he drank in the fragrance of her hair; he soon had to open them, though, blinking back tears rising from the flow of memories that ensued.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stood, careful not to disturb the sleeping bundle he so lovingly embraced. He laid her on the bed, then drew her close again, fighting the ache in his chest her nearness evoked. "I wish this could help you, Abby," his words were an almost inaudible murmur, lost in the recesses of her chestnut hair, "I wish you would stay."
*****
Abby woke up to a strange sensation of security.
She felt warm, comfortable, safe, and more rested than she had in weeks. Her body was cradled somehow; she shifted a bit, burrowing further into the warmth that cloistered her away from the reality of the previous evening.
Opening her eyes slowly, she froze. Too quickly, she squeezed her eyes shut and her whole body stiffened. Desperately, she tried to make herself relax; she commanded her breathing to even out and slowly relaxed each muscle in her body.
She snuck a glance at her watch - five-fifty. Only a few minutes until Luka would have to get up for his shift. How had this happened? She felt his arm tighten around her waist and tried not to react, deadening her body as though she were still asleep.
She had to get out of there.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
To love is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one... Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements, lock it up safe in the coffin of your selfishness...
C.S. Lewis, "The Problem of Pain"
The night was cold - she felt the bitter air numb her skin, but she could not bring herself to care enough to even seek shelter. Not yet.
Wind tore at her coat, blowing it back from her shoulders; she looked up briefly, sniffing at the pale night sky as she debated fastening the buttons, noting dim stars obscured by the glare of the Chicago skyline.
Vague recollections of bright, shimmering stars stirred in shadowy corners of her memory, but belonged to a time long past. A time before her life had gone so horribly awry.
When was the last time she had really been in control? She liked to think the majority of the last five years, since she sobered up and left Richard. But that was not necessarily true - no addict could ever really possess unhindered control again; some measure of power always belonged to the disease, the constant temptation. The temptation she had given into.
The reasons were as mysterious to her as they must have been to Carter. She had seen the disappointed look in his eyes, the contempt for her wasted five years and feeble effort at being his sponsor.
The little drink that marked the beginning, on her birthday, with Joyce, was the most anticlimactic fall she could have envisioned. But Joyce was a new person, someone who was not familiar with the weak and vulnerable Abby, so clearly discernible in her alcoholism.
To this new woman, Abby could invent herself as the stronger, more independent person she hoped she could be.
And even now, here she was walking toward Luka's apartment. She let him take her in because she could not bear staying in her own home. So much for her idealized strength.
She needed a drink. Somehow her thoughts always seemed to cycle back to a form of blame and a need for escape. Very common in alcoholics and her own mind, she knew, but the pure repetition of it never ceased to astound her. In many respects, it was similar to the pattern she shared with her mother: the cycle was not apparent until it was over, but, upon inspection, it was invariably precise.
She shouldn't go back there again. She should go to a bar and get bombed; she should go to a meeting; she should return to her own apartment. Abby was just pacing in front of the building now, as her mind fought its battle.
Vainly, she tried to rationalize her discomfort in staying with Luka any longer. She knew the truth, though - that when he had checked her eye that fateful morning she had felt a wave of emotion like no other, and that terrified her.
Her right to feel such things about Luka had long since passed, and now they were interfering with her life. They had to be put away. with a drink. No! She shook her head again, staring at the door to the building as though it was a demon she must defeat. Should she stay or should she go?
******
Luka felt the knot of dread in his stomach before he consciously realized what it was. It must have woken him; there was no other reason to blink at the blaring red letters of his alarm clock, four hours before they were supposed to sound.
His eyes scanned the room, searching for something out of place, even as his ears strained for the remnant of a noise that might have disturbed him. Suddenly, he knew - he had not heard Abby come in.
She never made a lot of noise, and rarely woke him, but somewhere in his mind there was always a confirmation of her secure presence that this night lacked somehow. Two-thirty.
She had been scheduled until twelve, and should have been back by then. He momentarily chastised himself - she was a grown woman, after all - but eventually conceded to his need to verify her safety.
He flinched a bit as the soles of his feet touched the icy floor, then padded lightly down the hall and into the living room.
Eyes fully adjusted, he was able to pick out the lack of expected detail: Abby's shoes were not by the door; her coat was not on the peg; her purse was missing from the table.
The feeling of nervous anticipation grew as each step took him closer to the couch. He found himself willing her to be on the other side, just out of his line of sight.
Luka let out a deep breath as his wish was granted. Abby lay curled on the couch, pressed tightly against the back cushion. Moonlight bathed her fully clothed form as his eyes took her in; she looked. fragile, somehow.
Clouds shifted in the night sky outside Luka's window, adjusting the rays of pale light to Abby's face. Previously obscured tearstains became suddenly pronounced in the new light, a fresh addition forming in the corner of one eye. Kneeling before her, he reached out a slightly trembling hand to brush away the tear - as though months of pent-up tenderness and concern manifested itself in that one gentle gesture.
Her eyes flew open as his fingers made contact with her cool skin. His expression became more concerned as he realized just how cold she was.
Their eyes each searched the other's, not knowing exactly what they were looking for. Luka's thumb caressed her cheek as her eyes seemed to fluctuate between resignedness and fire. "I didn't mean to wake you," Abby finally whispered, her need to break the silence overwhelming.
"You didn't," he murmured, still searching for what he could not find. She opened her mouth again to say more, but hesitated as Luka shook his head. "Shhh," he hushed her gently as he slid his free arm under hear head and swept her up, cradling her like a child.
She tried so hard to act strong; it was this front of invulnerability that had so divided them in their romantic relationship. In the beginning, when he had needed someone, she had been there and was comfortable in her position of control. Later, though, when her emotional world came crashing down, she pushed him away rather than show any weakness. This display of frailty now cut him like a knife. For Abby to allow this visibility of her emotions was more than she had done through their whole relationship.
Part of her screamed to fight him, to lie back down and be alone, but that half of her mind was exhausted. Instead, Abby gave into the lonely, vulnerable part of her that was finding some comfort in Luka's embrace, however temporary it would be. She did not say more, just relaxed into his comforting grasp and was soon fast asleep.
Luka reveled in the feel of her, as she rested in his arms; she was his in this moment, his in a way she could never be in waking hours - she fought it too hard. He had always felt their most intimate moments were those she did not even realize happened, when she was asleep and he would stroke her hair, or whisper to her so tenderly, communicating words that always seemed too trite when her eyes stared back at him.
Now he was whisked back to those days, the days before both of them managed to so irrevocably scar their relationship. It had been a joint effort, total destruction in their wake.
Closing his eyes, he drank in the fragrance of her hair; he soon had to open them, though, blinking back tears rising from the flow of memories that ensued.
Swallowing the lump in his throat, he stood, careful not to disturb the sleeping bundle he so lovingly embraced. He laid her on the bed, then drew her close again, fighting the ache in his chest her nearness evoked. "I wish this could help you, Abby," his words were an almost inaudible murmur, lost in the recesses of her chestnut hair, "I wish you would stay."
*****
Abby woke up to a strange sensation of security.
She felt warm, comfortable, safe, and more rested than she had in weeks. Her body was cradled somehow; she shifted a bit, burrowing further into the warmth that cloistered her away from the reality of the previous evening.
Opening her eyes slowly, she froze. Too quickly, she squeezed her eyes shut and her whole body stiffened. Desperately, she tried to make herself relax; she commanded her breathing to even out and slowly relaxed each muscle in her body.
She snuck a glance at her watch - five-fifty. Only a few minutes until Luka would have to get up for his shift. How had this happened? She felt his arm tighten around her waist and tried not to react, deadening her body as though she were still asleep.
She had to get out of there.
^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^
To love is to be vulnerable. Love anything, and your heart will be wrung and possibly be broken. If you want to make sure of keeping it intact, you must give your heart to no one... Wrap it carefully round with hobbies and little luxuries, avoid all entanglements, lock it up safe in the coffin of your selfishness...
C.S. Lewis, "The Problem of Pain"