Pouring, in fact, and the resulting 4 vehicle pile-up on 90 had Kovac and I exposed to the elements and worse for the wear, waiting for two critical incomings in the bay. I, of course, am miserable. He's... Luka Kovac.
Where that man goes when he's not– present, I'll never know, but somehow, the guy manages to exist with his surroundings and never quite in them. I mean, when it's 45 degrees outside and wet as hell, the least you would expect of someone is a shiver. I got nothing. And I was watching.
Hey, the man looks good when... wet.
And hell, maybe I don't want to know.
So another minute or so drags by and I'm about ready to call off the whole doctor thing when I'm surprised to notice something's got his attention. Curious, I follow his gaze towards the Quickie Mart, from which a small figure has just emerged and is hurrying toward us, hunched under an oversized raincoat.
Abby says nothing as she hurries past us into the the shelter of the hospital, but she turns slightly and lifts the hood of that ridiculous looking raincoat just enough to peek up in our direction as she passes.
And there it is.
She smiles at him. It's one of those pouty "look how much I suck at life but I'm so cute doing it" smiles that I hate her for, and sure enough she looks pretty and youthful with her hair darker looking and curling a bit with the damp. But that smile- it's different this time. She doesn't blink and looks steadily at him, and for a second something else fights its way to the surface, and she's tentative and vulnerable and she needs something from him but doesn't know how to ask.
His accent is more noticeable than usual as he almost whispers his greeting, "Abby..."
I know she doesn't hear because she's already past us, disappearing into the ER, but he says it anyway and says it like he could say nothing else for the rest of his life, smiling to himself as he does. Like there's something sublimely self-indulgent about the sound of her name slipping from his lips. The shadow of his smile is still there, and he's staring at the spot she's just left empty. The ambulance pulls up. I'm completely dumbfounded.
I have no idea when it happened, if it was always there unnoticed, or if they even know it, but Luka and Abby are flat out, undeniably, irreversibly, song-inspiringly, soap-opera style in love with each other.
I think again of him staring after her, smiling that faraway, tender smile of his and realize it's got to stop. If these two never end up together it won't for lack of trying on my part.
I'm Chief of Emergency Medicine after all, and that's got to count for something in the scheme of things.
The question of how exactly to go about starting on my newfound project was a much more complicated matter. I'll qualify what I'm about to say with this: Abby is a great friend, and I'll tell anyone who asks. She's funny and tough and unparalleled in a pinch.
But Abby is also exasperating as hell. I'm just used to it now- the wish to kill her on a daily basis. She has the most remarkable talent for making things complicated that I've ever encoutered. I've never known someone to sabotage themselves in quite so exacting and calculated manner as she does, which is why special consideration must be given to the complication in any situation involving Abby that she will inevitably do the exact opposite of what is clearly best for her.
It was in this tradition that I found myself arguing with her in the drug lock-up after a decidedly failed attempt at a relatively direct, girl-talk approach to the situation.
"Hey Abby."
"Hey... where the hell is the Erythromycin?"
I hand it to her. "That for Luka's patient?"
"Yeah." Perfect.
"Have you talked to him lately?"
She stares at me. "The patient?"
"No, Dr. Kovac."
"Not really, why?"
I shrug. "I dunno, he's newly-single, I didn't know how he was taking things."
"I think he's going to be ok."
"Hm." Abby has a funny expression on her face so I pause and try to look uninterested. "Didn't you two used to go out?"
"Aha. I don't think so."
"No, I was just asking."
"Susan."
"Well I need to make the schedule for next week and I thought..."
"Susan!"
"He probably needs a friend and..." She starts to walk away from me. "And he is really cute- Abby!" I'm laughing; I can't help it. "Does this mean I need to tell Cosmo that new playmate I promised him soon is a no-go?" I call after her, and she turns briefly to shake her head and roll her eyes before ducking into an exam room.
Well, that went exactly as should have been expected.
On to Plan B.
"Dr. Kovac, could I talk to you a minute?"
This being the boss has its upsides. Luka immediately follows me into the empty trauma room without a word.
Then again, he never says anything. I wonder what the Croatian word for "lovesick" is.
"I spoke to Abby earlier." That perks him up a little. Gotcha. "I don't think she's adjusting well to the responsibilities of a resident. I'd like you to keep an eye on her."
"Why me?" You're the only one I know who visibly deflates when she leaves the room.
"You're our most senior attending. Plus," I smile at him, "you're her friend, Luka. I think you'll make an impact. She'll listen to you."
This last comment seems to amuse him, but he agrees to his new assignment readily enough and takes his leave.
People always talk longingly about the passion early on in romance. When Chuck and I first started dating, we had passion. Loads of it- desperate, lustful, consuming passion that carries you away with it and takes you outside yourself for a while. But Dix and I had that too, and I left Dix. What made Chuck special was the little things- the brushes of skin, feathery touches that were easy and not desperate. It's when those slight touches communicate something - when you can feel that they are more loaded than anything that happens under the covers- that's when what they call passion becomes incidental to something much greater, more baffling, and more wonderful.
He's taken his assignment seriously, I think, my heart going a bit fluttery in my chest as I notice the two through the window of Exam 1. Luka and Abby have their heads bent over a little boy with a head lac; his hand brushes hers lightly as she prepares to begin suturing, and she's leaning slightly into him. This, ladies and gentlemen, is why I married Chuck.
I think these two are going to be just fine.