DISCLAIMER: I don't own any of the familiar characters; I
just borrow them for a little while. Don't worry, I won't hurt them!
AUTHOR'S NOTE: I apologize in advance for making up some
facts, like the names of Luka's Croatian friends and family. If these are things that I should know, I'm
sorry for not being true to what's already been established. Also, I do not know Croatian, aside from the
few phrases I've seen in other fics, so I will write in English. Just assume when Luka is talking to people
in Croatia that the dialogue is actually in Croatian.
THE JOURNEY HOME – Part One
Every year, this day seems to sneak up on me. August 16.
The 15th comes and goes without incident and I wake up the
next morning, unsuspecting. It always
hits me at a different time. Sometimes
it's right when I wake up. Or in the
shower. Or over coffee, when I'm reading
the paper and I see the date. August
16. My anniversary. The day Danijela and I pledged our lives to
each other. Our lives. We were so young. How could we have known how it would all end?
This year is a bit different. Now the 16th brings, along with its usual feelings of
bittersweet sorrow, a sense of uneasiness and guilt. For in my drawer, hidden by my socks, sits a box. Red velvet.
And inside the box, a ring. Gold
band, diamond. Not too flashy or showy,
but beautiful just the same. Like
her. Not Danijela. Abby.
And that box, that ring, that woman, is why I'm feeling guilty
today. Today, on my anniversary, the
ring is taunting me as it waits for me to take it out and propose to another
woman. As much as I love Abby, I can't
help feeling dishonest and unfaithful towards Danijela. How can I marry another woman?
I am glad that I don't have to work today, and glad that
Abby had a graveyard shift last night so she isn't lying in bed next to me
right now. I don't think I would be
able to kiss her awake like I usually do, but I don't want to hurt her. There is just something about this day that
makes me want to crawl back under the covers and not emerge until tomorrow.
"Danijela," I hear my voice whisper. I don't know whether to curse myself for
betraying the memory of Danijela by loving Abby, or for betraying Abby by
loving the memory of Danijela. I know
it's not fair to ask Abby to understand my lingering love for my wife. But at the same time, would Danijela really
want me to fall in love with another woman?
My head is spinning from the confusion of it all, and my heart feels
even worse.
I slowly swing my legs over the side of the bed and stand
up. Crossing the room to the dresser, I
open the top drawer. I know exactly
where it is without looking. I pull the
picture of my wife and daughter out from under my sweaters and, as always, my
breath catches at the sight of them.
They look so happy, so peaceful, so…alive. "Tell me what to do," I plead in Croatian. As I stare into Danijela's eyes, I can
almost hear her saying the words.
"Volim te. I love you."
Maybe it's a moment of insanity, brought on by the emotions
I'm feeling right now. Maybe it's
actually a message from my dead wife.
Whatever it is, I get a crazy idea in my head and suddenly I can think
of nothing else. I am going to
Croatia. I don't even stop to think of
how I will get there, or where I will go when I do, or what I will tell Abby…But
before I can rationally talk myself out of it, I am on the phone with Kerry,
telling her I need some time off. How
much? I have no idea. But there must be something she detects in
my voice, because she hardly argues. I
never take time off, anyways, she reasons out loud to me. I tell her it's something of a family
emergency, thank her, and hang up.
Still in a daze from this new plan, I look up the number of
the airline and call and – wonder of wonders – there's a flight to from Chicago
to Vukovar tonight. Who would have
known – it's not every day that there's a flight to Croatia. It is eerie how quickly this is all coming
together. Almost as if it were meant to
be.
A half-hour later, I am thinking a bit more clearly and my
heart sinks when I realize that I need to tell Abby…something. A glance at my watch tells me that she should
have gotten off work not too long ago.
As if on cue, I hear a knock at my door. I suppose I move too slowly to answer it, because I hear the
sound of a key in the lock. The door
opens, and there she is. My heart
twists as I see her, knowing that my news will probably hurt her, that she will
not understand my need to go to my home country so suddenly.
Abby sweeps into the room, worry painted on her face. A greeting dies on her lips as she notices
the open suitcase on my bed. Her eyes
swing back to mine, and the worry is replaced by confusion. "Are you okay? Weaver asked me if I knew why you needed time off so suddenly,
and I didn't know what to tell her…God, Luka, you scared me!"
I look at her standing in the middle of the room and hate
myself for what I am doing to her. She
deserves better. But, still, I can't
bring myself to touch her, to tell her I love her – like I should. It's just too much today. I feel like I am suffocating here and I know
that the sooner I can get this over with, the better. I decide to get right to the point. "I'm going to Croatia."
She stands there, stunned.
"Why? For a visit? Is there something wrong?" The questions come fast as she tries to
understand, but I only hear the last one.
Is there something wrong?
Yes. There is something
wrong. My wife and children are
dead. Today is my anniversary and she's
dead. There has been something wrong
for over ten years. Of course, I
don't vocalize my thoughts. But then I
realize that I have no other explanation.
"It's just something that I have to do, Abby. I'm leaving tonight."
Abby's eyes are wide as, again, she tries to
understand. "Tonight? When are you getting back?"
I merely shrug because I don't trust my voice not to
fail. I can't meet her eyes and instead
go back to folding T-shirts into my suitcase.
"I don't know," I finally admit.
Silence. Then she
speaks. "You don't know," she
repeats. More silence. Suddenly she gasps. "Luka!"
Her voice is sharp, penetrating into the fog my brain has been in. "Are you coming back?"
And I don't know what to say. Am I coming back? I hadn't
thought that far, and honestly I don't know.
Conflicting thoughts are flying through my brain so fast, and it's truly
like one of those cartoon consciences with the angel on one shoulder and the
devil on the other. Only I don't know
which one is good and which one is bad.
Of course I'm coming back…No, I'm staying…
I turn to face my girlfriend, the woman that I love, and
prepare to do one of the hardest things of my life. Hurt her. I don't want
to, but it's the only thing I can do.
And again, I am struck with an intense hate for myself. I have failed yet another woman. I failed Danijela when I didn't save her,
and now I am failing Abby by not being the man she deserves. But I can't answer her question. "I'll call you when I get to Vukovar." It's the least I can do. But I hate how that one sentence sounds like
a dismissal.
Apparently, Abby hears the dismissal in my voice as
well. She turns to leave, and then
faces me once more. There are tears in
her eyes and it's all I can do not to hold her and never let go. "So that's it," she says softly. And with that sentence, I realize that Abby
understands me so much more than I give her credit for. She doesn't try to argue with me, only wipes
her eyes and walks out the door.
I stare at the closed door, feeling utterly alone.
