"I don't know, I'm not sure if I can. We'll see later, OK?"
"Abby, I really think we need to talk."
We'd never needed to talk before. Straight to bed. Worked out just fine. I hate talking. He should know I hate talking. Well, he should know a lot of things about me that he doesn't know. Because I don't talk to him. Because I can't talk to him.
"Luka, what time do you get off today?"
"I told you this morning, Abby. I still get off at 7."
"Fine, I'm off in 20 minutes, I'll meet you at my place at...7:20?"
"OK Abby. Make it 7:30 and I'll bring dinner."
"As long as it's not from that thai place." I try to smile, but I'm too tired. I couldn't sleep last night. I haven't been sleeping well lately.
"Is pizza OK?"
"Whatever you want, Luka."
"Are you OK Abby?"
"Sure...fine. Tired. Busy. Can we do this later?"
"Yeah, sure." He says it coldly, walking away, not turning to look back. If I had more energy, or if I thought it would change anything, I'd yell to him. But it would only make a scene in the hospital, something I've done quite enough this year. In fact, we both have.
"Luka..." I say quietly, barely a whisper, but the sound is caught up in the yells and endless conversations of the Cook County General ER. It's just as well, I don't know what I'd say if he came back anyway. I never know what to say. Neither does he. It was working fine...we told ourselves that it was anyway. Who knows. Maybe it's all for the best like this. No emotional attachment, no one gets hurt. I'll just keep telling myself that when I see the look in his eyes before he walked away. See if it works.