"Regret"

"Regret"

By Adrienne

Author's Note: Told from Luka's point of view.

Spoilers: "Blood, Sugar, Sex, Magic"

I watch as she walks away into the darkness. I've made many mistakes in my life and I have the feeling that this is one of the worst. I want to say something, to apologize, so I start after her, but then hesitate. She couldn't possibly forgive me after the things I've said tonight. I've said some awful things. Things I didn't mean, things I said in rage, jealousy and on impulse. So I let her go.

I walk home through the empty streets. It's quite late, and no one is out, but in the distance sirens and shouting can be heard. I shiver against the wind and wonder if Abby made it home safely. Suddenly I'm at my new apartment building, but I'm not sure I want to go in. There's nothing waiting for me there. Grudgingly, I go into my apartment and feel the emptiness of it. Not just the physical emptiness, though there is no furniture and cardboard boxes are strewn about, but the emotional emptiness. She won't be here anymore, and I know that's my fault.

I sit down in my one chair and turn on the television. The news is on, and they're talking about the latest baseball game, but none of it really registers in my mind. I wonder what she's doing right now. Is she happy? Relieved? Hurt? Devastated? Sad? I need to know, so I reach for the phone and begin dialing her number. I hear it ring, but then I hang up quickly. She won't want to talk to me. Why would she?

I sigh, reach into my pocket and pull out a worn leather wallet. The usual things are in there; cash, credit cards, ID. But also two of the things I treasure most in this world. One is a picture of my wife and daughter. It's from Jasna's fourth birthday party. She and Danijela are both laughing, and I smile, remembering happier times. I can almost feel Jasna's soft skin and smell Danijela's perfume. They're still so vivid in my mind, and even though I have nothing physical left of Marko, I can still see him when I close my eyes. His rumpled hair and sticky hands that always seemed to be clutching his teddy bear. My heart aches in yearning to think of them, to see them again, but that was a different life, a different time, and I must go on.

I then take out a strip of four tiny black and white photographs. They were taken one day last summer at Navy Pier, in one of those little photo booths. My favorite picture is the last. We're looking at each other, laughing. She's beautiful. I study the picture, recognizing my familiar gaze of adoration for her and notice for the first time the way she's looking at me. Like I'm the only person in the world…like she loves me.

I close my eyes and conjure her image. I try and recall the few times that we both were genuinely happy. I remember her eyes. Her smell. Her kiss. Her laughter was intoxicating, her eyes hypnotizing, her kiss soft and sensual. Her smile. I love her smile. Her whole face lights up, and I can't take my eyes away from her. I can never see enough of that smile.

Her words linger in my mind. "You're married to a ghost." As much as I'd like to deny it, I know that at least in part it's true. I still love Danijela. I don't want to forget her or feel like I'm betraying her. I don't want to lose my memory of her, because if I do, will I forget my children? What kind of father would forget his children? Danijela is still my wife; Marko and Jasna are still my children. They're gone and nothing will change that, but by trying too hard to keep their memory alive, I have betrayed Abby and my feelings for her.

Do I love her? For a long time I didn't know. In Croatia I had known so much love, and after I lost everything I couldn't remember what love felt like. I was numb, emotionally dead. Then I met Abby and she lit within me feelings long-forgotten. Slowly, surely I fell in love with her, but didn't realize it myself until one beautiful morning. We were lying in bed, I was holding her, and everything was perfect. It was a simple moment, but so full of joy for me. I realized I was in love with her, and I never wanted to let her go.

I never found the courage to tell her out loud, to her face. It was never the perfect moment; it was never a good time. And I was scared. Scared that I would frighten her away. Scared that she wouldn't feel the same. Scared of betraying Danijela. So I told her at night while she was sleeping, whispering the words in the darkness.

As I lie in bed later that night, I instinctively reach to the opposite side of the bed, but no one is there. How many nights have we spent together, making love, talking or simply holding each other? Hours later I still can't sleep, she's the only thing on my mind. I've gotten so used to sleeping at her side that without her now I can't relax. I can't find peace. I'm alone again. And all I'm left with is regret. Regret for the past, regret for the future. Regret for her.