TITLE: A Mouthful of Air
AUTHOR: JD
CHAPTER SUMMARY: Unfortunate timing, erroneous conclusions, and Susan repeatedly taking the Lord's name in vain.
Chapter 5: Ignorance, No Bliss
The ring of the phone broke Abby's nightmare-strewn slumber. She blindly felt for the handset on her nightstand, refusing to open her eyes. After knocking some pens and a necklace to the floor, she finally found the phone and clicked it on, her startled heart beating loudly in her ears.
"Hello?" she croaked.
"Hey, did I wake you?"
"John? What time is it?"
"Around five-thirty." There was a pause on his end. "Last night you told me to call you when I got off? So we could have breakfast together? Any of this ringing a bell?"
Shit, Abby thought, rubbing her still-closed eyes with her right hand. She'd completely forgotten. About an hour before her shift ended last night, they'd agreed he would come over in the morning. This was before she had decided to go out with Susan and Chen. Before she got drunk. Before she saw Brian. Before . . .
"Oh, yeah, right. Sorry, I guess I . . . didn't hear my alarm go off."
"Can I still come over?"
"Yes. Of course."
"All right. I'm at Doc's right now picking up some donuts. Boston Cream for you?"
"Great. See you soon."
"Bye."
She clicked off the phone and managed to sit up in bed, taking a self-inventory. She wasn't too hung-over – just a little dehydrated. Her tongue was Sahara-dry, and it had taken way too much energy to talk to Carter just now. It wouldn't take him long at all to get to her place. She'd have just enough time to put on some coffee, take a quick shower, and brush last night's overly clingy alcohol out of her mouth.
She toddled off to the kitchen, eyes now only half-closed. Well, that's progress, she thought. By the time Carter gets here, I'll be able to open them completely.
She never made it past the living room. Fuck.
There he was, haphazardly lying across her couch, his long legs dangling over one armrest, deep in sleep.
She would've laughed at the sight of his oversize body attempting to rest peacefully on her couch had she not desperately wanted him out of there that instant. The TV was still on, but the volume on the set was turned way down. She could barely hear the local news anchors getting Chicago ready for another day.
She moved around the couch till she was standing right next to his head. "Luka."
He mumbled a response but didn't open his eyes.
She tried again, this time a bit more forcefully. "Luka!"
His head jerked and his eyes flew open. He seemed perplexed at first, unable to figure out where he was. When he looked up and saw Abby standing over him in her black tank top and gray pajama bottoms, the events of last evening wandered into the fore of his mind.
"Did I fall asleep?" Stupid question, he thought. "What time is it?" he asked her as he wiped the sleep from his eyes.
"About a quarter to six."
"Oh, great," he groaned. "I have to be at work in about an hour."
"I didn't know you had to work this morning," Abby furrowed her brow. "I figured since you had a date last night, you were off today. I would've made you go home last night if I'd known."
He swung his legs to the floor and satisfyingly scratched his head with both hands, trying to become more alert. "It's not a big deal. I'll be fine once I shower and get some coffee in me."
Oh please God don't let him ask to shower and have coffee here, she panicked momentarily.
But Luka made no such requests. Instead, he stood and stretched, now fully awake. He looked down at Abby, not picking up on the impatience brewing within her.
"I hope this doesn't sound too weird," he said, "but I had a nice time last night."
"Not too weird, no," she replied. "I think I know what you mean."
As frantically as she wanted to kick him out the door before Carter arrived, she needed to say more. "Thanks, Luka. For . . ." She quietly laughed as she couldn't find the words. He smiled at her, reading her thoughts as best he could. "Just thanks," she finished.
For a second he thought about giving her a hug goodbye, but then reconsidered. He didn't want her to get the wrong idea, or make her feel uncomfortable. He was terrified of ruining whatever it was – he wasn't quite sure, exactly – he and Abby now shared. She watched him walk out of her apartment and quietly close the door behind himself in the pre-dawn morning. After scooping up the few empty beer bottles on the coffee table and throwing them in the trash, she started to brew some coffee for her and Carter.
During the coffee prep, she turned to look at the television. It seemed the meteorologist was proudly telling folks that a large storm that had been predicted to hit Chicago later that day had been diverted, as if he himself had changed the weather patterns. She took hold of the remote and turned up the volume slightly.
" . . . looks like we'll just be getting some rain. But it appears that nasty storm will avoid us completely, so consider yourselves lucky."
You don't know the half of it, Abby thought.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Carter blasted the music on his Jeep's CD player, needing to stay awake for just a few more hours. He would definitely sleep a good seven hours during the afternoon because his next shift started at 10 that night. But he wanted to enjoy his morning with Abby before he had to succumb to the Draculian sleeping habits required by his schedule.
On his speakers, Shirley Manson was singing something about being overworked but undersexed. Well, he was definitely the former, but no longer the latter, thank God. But there was more to his happiness than just that – he was with Abby. Even though it had been weeks since their first kiss, he still couldn't comfortably wrap his mind around that notion. After two years of being intrigued by this woman, and more than a year of – he wasn't ashamed to admit it – being unabashedly in love with her, he had finally gotten everything he wanted. Having his wishes fulfilled was something he was used to only with respect to physical, tangible things: nice clothes, or a fancy car. He wasn't used to getting what he wanted when people entered the picture. He was never sure where he stood with his mother – she withheld so much from him, even when he was only a boy and needed unconditional affection as all children do. He honestly had thought things would work out between him and Anna, but she left Chicago to try to salvage what remained from her former life.
Now he was finally in a relationship with Abby. Someone he loved. Someone he trusted. Someone whose every mannerism and movement still captivated him after all this time. And he wasn't operating under any misconceptions; he knew she wasn't perfect. But she was perfect for him.
He made the drive over to her building in no time at all, thanks to the deserted, still-dark streets. As he approached her block, though, it dawned on him that he'd never find a spot close to her building at this time of the morning – no one had left for work yet. He watched the light turn from red to green, then slowly proceeded down her block, hoping against hope to find a spot nearby. As his luck would have it, on the opposite side of the street where Abby's apartment was, someone was jogging down the front steps of her building and heading toward a car right in front. Excellent, Carter thought. He put his hazard lights on and idled, figuring once the car drove off, he'd pull a quick U-turn and back right into the empty spot.
He stared at the man getting into the car. The man who'd just left Abby's building. At 5:51 in the morning. His body suddenly went numb, except for a constricting agony in his head, right behind his eyes.
It can't be.
Carter couldn't think straight, and breathing had become a chore. He was completely immobile. He didn't even notice that when Luka drove away, a Camry came out of nowhere and took the spot in front of the building.
It was another ten minutes before Carter could find a parking space.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
He knocked on her door. When she opened it, every detail assaulted his eyes. She was wearing her robe, her hair wet. She kissed him hello, but he didn't even feel it. Instead he strode into her apartment, peering through her open bedroom door. The bed had been made. Yeah, but that doesn't tell me anything, he thought, frustrated by his inability to think clearly.
"I'm making coffee. Would you like some?" she asked.
"Um, OK." He followed her into the kitchen.
"I'll get you a plate to put those on."
"Huh?" He asked absentmindedly.
She looked at him with a smile and indicated the bag he was holding in his right hand. The doughnuts from Doc's. He'd forgotten he'd been holding them. He couldn't even remember taking them out of the Jeep.
She pulled a plate down from a cabinet and left it on the countertop, then went about pouring them some coffee. Carter, astonished that he could still manage even simple tasks in his state of shock, took the few doughnuts out of the bag and placed them on the plate. He crumpled up the bag and tossed it in the trash. What he saw under the paper bag would have made him feel even sicker if that were possible. Beer bottles. Undoubtedly from last night, he figured. His mind raced with inappropriate thoughts.
Without looking directly at her, he asked, "So, what'd you do after your shift last night?"
"I went out with Susan."
"Oh? Where'd you go?"
Abby paused, then picked up the coffee mugs and held one out for Carter. She knew he'd be mad, but she didn't want to lie to him.
"We went back to the Lava Lounge."
She braced herself for an onslaught of AA advice, or at least some well-intended admonishments.
"You have a good time?" Carter asked, taking the mug from her. He briefly considered talking to her about her drinking, which seemed to be getting only worse, not better. Screw it, that's the least of my concerns right now. It was a self-indulgent rationalization, he knew, but he couldn't help himself just now.
Abby hesitated. That wasn't the question she'd been prepared for. She considered telling him about Brian, but she didn't want to worry him. Besides, she felt much more at ease this morning than she had last night – no need to rehash last night's dramatics.
"It was OK," she replied, still on her guard for the alcoholism lecture that was sure to follow. But none came.
"Mmmhmmm," he said. She was dumbfounded by his apparent indifference to her drinking.
"Listen," he continued, "I forgot that my dad's in town for a couple of days, and I promised him I'd see him during my off-hours. So I really have to go." He hated to lie to her. It didn't feel right, which was probably why he'd never done it before. But he needed to be alone to think, and he couldn't conceive of any other way to escape.
"OK," she said, confused.
At her door, he handed back the untouched cup of coffee and out of habit kissed her briefly on the lips. He closed the door behind himself and bolted out of her building, leaving her bewildered and oddly anxious, but she didn't know why.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Carter trudged into the lounge, his head down.
"You look like shit," Susan said. She'd been sitting at the table, finishing up a cup of soup.
Normally, Carter would've had something snappy – or even snippy – to say in reply, but he just grunted incoherently. He was supposed to have enjoyed a great morning with Abby. The prospect of donuts, coffee, and sex – not in that order – were all that had gotten him through the previous night's shift. Didn't happen. He was supposed to have slept comfortably in his big bed that afternoon, pleasantly exhausted from his morning with Abby. Didn't happen.
So here he was, baffled, angry, sleep-deprived, and expected to work a ten-hour shift. Obviously, joking around with Susan about his rather shoddy, fatigued appearance was not something he was going to delight in.
As he opened his locker, he launched into his cross-examination of the witness. "So . . . . You and Abby went out again last night?"
"Yeah, she's really fun."
"Yeah, yeah, she is." Carter smiled peculiarly into his locker. "Just the two of you?"
"No, Chen came with us."
"Huh." Carter slammed his locker door and faced Susan, staring intently into her eyes. "So just you, Deb and Abby – a girls' night out?"
"Yeah. I'm surprised we hadn't done it before."
"No one else with you?"
Susan was starting to find Carter's tone disconcerting, and she wondered how much he knew. He was definitely acting bizarre.
"Well," she began slowly, "there were some people at the bar we knew . . ."
"You mean Luka," he cut her off.
Susan turned serious, recollecting the discussion she and Chen shared at the Lava Lounge. "Abby told you we saw him?"
"No, but I figured."
"What do you mean?"
Carter deliberated on how much to tell her, finally deciding to throw it all at her feet. "Luka left Abby's place around six this morning."
"What?"
She seemed stunned, but Carter wasn't ready to buy it completely. He walked toward her and sat astride a chair at the table, his face mere inches away from hers. "Oh, he just happened to run into Abby last night?"
Susan, slowly recovering from the shock, tried to rationalize with him. "Carter, I'm sure it's nothing. He was meeting another woman at the bar, for Christ's sake."
Carter just rolled his eyes.
"What did Abby say about it?" Susan asked.
"Nothing," he said firmly. "Luka was leaving right as I pulled up. She doesn't know I know. I didn't ask her, and she didn't say anything."
"Well, that doesn't mean something happened," Susan defended. "When I spent the night at Mark's, I wasn't going to tell you about it."
At the mention of Mark's name, Carter forgot his own calamity for just a fleeting instant. "But that's because he was sick, and he wanted it to be a secret. If you had told me on your own that you'd stayed with him, you would've had to have told me why – and he wouldn't have wanted me to find out that way."
"Well, maybe Abby and Luka had an important and completely non-romantic issue they had to discuss."
He stared at her with disbelieving eyes, as if she had just said the stupidest thing in the history of human speech.
"Hey," Susan continued, "nothing happened between me and Mark. I'm sure nothing happened between Abby and Luka."
"But you and Mark never dated. You were always just friends. Luka and Abby practically lived together."
"Oh, Jesus Christ!" Susan nearly exploded. "Now you act all reasonable about me and Mark, now that it suits your purposes and you can play devil's advocate."
She took a deep breath and tried to regain her composure. "Look, Carter, just talk to her. I'm sure there's a good explanation, and I'm sure it's nothing worth getting worked up about."
She freed herself from his gaze and looked at the clock on the wall. "You'd better start your shift before Weaver comes in here and has a paroxysm."
Carter said nothing in response to Susan's attempt to change the subject. He stood, flung open the lounge door, and stormed toward the admit desk – feeling nothing but exasperation at the unfairness of his life.
END NOTES: The song Carter listens to in his Jeep is "Hammering In My Head" by Garbage. And it took every shred of decency I had to keep my Id in check and NOT include the following sentence in this chapter: "Carter felt as though Abby had stabbed him in the back . . . with a large butcher knife, as 'Battleflag' played over and over again in the background."
