PART TWO
Red.
The bucket was red. Abby was pretty sure that she didn't own a red bucket and that if she did she wouldn't be keeping it by the bed. She ventured a look at her surroundings. Clock. Luka's clock; Luka's nightstand; Luka's bedroom; Luka's bed. She knew without looking that he was not in it. Abby sat up and lay down again immediately as a wave of nausea hit her bringing a cold sweat to her brow. Five minutes later she felt safe to try again. Moving more slowly this time she eased herself upright and waited a moment for the pounding in her head to subside. Maybe she could stand. Yes. That wasn't so bad, and she inched toward the bathroom, stopping to lean against the doorframe, exhausted by her exertions and only now registering that she'd been undressed. "Don't think about it" she told herself. She had the advantage of knowing where everything was and was able to shower largely on auto-pilot. But, using Luka's soap, she found herself suddenly surrounded by the scent of him and felt tears start to her eyes at the terrible waste of it all. And as she wrapped a towel around herself and looked for the toothpaste she began to cry in earnest. He had kept her toothbrush.
Luka intercepted Carter in the lounge as he was preparing to leave. Carter refused to meet his gaze, asking only "She OK?"
"She was still sleeping when I left. I left a note to say she should call you." A pause. "What did you argue about?"
"Not your business" Carter said with what sounded like a laugh. "Something and nothing, but not your damned business. Not any more" He turned to Luka with that and smiled, eyebrows raised. Luka supposed that this was to denote irony, and was not to be so easily deterred.
"Is this new? The drinking?" Carter didn't answer at all this time. Why wouldn't this bastard leave him alone?
"You need to talk to her"
"Coming from you that's almost funny" retorted Carter. Luka ran a hand across tired eyes.
"Look, like it or not, she came to me. She shouldn't have. I'm sure she knows that, but it was lucky it was me and not someone she met in a bar. She's putting herself at risk every time she's out alone like this."
"Keep out of it, Kovac," Carter said, shortly, "she's my business now."
"Go and talk to her!" Luka called after him. But he didn't know if he'd been heard. It seemed to have been a very long time since he'd been heard.
She felt a little better once she had showered, and cried and dressed. She made coffee, took the Tylenol which Luka had left out for her and picked up the note from the counter. "Abby, please call John. I will be in Doc Magoo's at 12.30 and would like to talk to you. L" She smiled at the curiously slanting hand. When first they were together she had joked that he even wrote with an accent. "Please call John". Well, yes. She had begun to piece together her recollection of the previous evening.
"8 O'clock meeting?" he had asked as she left work.
"Sure."
But she hadn't gone and when her 'phone rang at 8.30 she had picked it up without thinking.
"Hello?"
"You didn't go." Carter. Shit.
"Are you checking up on me?" His anger and disappointment were palpable in the silence that followed.
"You said you'd go"
"I was too tired. You're checking up on me?"
"You said you'd go" he repeated, more slowly as though he were speaking to a child or a foreigner. Or an idiot. "Why do you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Let me down. Let yourself down" he amended hastily.
"Is this about you?"
"Do you know what it's costing me, going through this?"
"It is about you."
"Why not? Do I not matter? I have a right -"
"You just stop right there you son of a bitch. You stop this now. You aren't my keeper and you do not have any right to check up on me!"
"Abby, all I want is for you to make the effort. I did it."
"Crap. You never bought into any of it! You went because you had to"
"But I went"
"You're not going now!"
"I'm not using now."
"And I'm not drinking now! It's been six months since I had a drink!"
"But you want to"
"Of course I want to! I'm an alcoholic!"
"So you should go"
"To make you feel better?" Silence for a moment. She heard him sigh. This was a bad idea; she should have hung up straight away.
"Look, Abby, all I'm saying is you should go, and I can say that because I know how you feel"
"No, you don't. You do not. No-one does. Jesus Christ, at least Luka never pretended to be able to read my mind." She stopped there, her words mocking her.
"Luka never understood anything" Carter said shortly, "You said as much yourself. We do. We're made of the same stuff."
"You know, I don't want to have this conversation. And you should leave Luka out of this."
"You brought it up! I don't want to talk about him; I never did." Abby realised at that moment that she was bored with this whole sorry scene.
"I have to go."
"Why, do you have some place to be?"
"I have to go. We'll talk tomorrow"
"Abby don't do this to me. Don't hang up!"
She hung up
She had made tea then, hands shaking with fury. Carter. Carter hadn't trusted her to keep her word. Losing sight of the fact that he'd been right, she cursed him. This wasn't how she had imagined it. Their easy banter, the instinctive understanding she thought they shared had evaporated the minute they'd slept together. And then there was the sex. It was . ok. It was pleasant. Perhaps she'd been spoilt. Whatever the shortcomings of her relationship with Luka the sex had never been anything less than exhilarating. But they'd been out on sync with each other in almost all other respects. Except when they weren't. Except for those odd times when they'd got it right and fallen into step with each other. But they never stopped to think about what it was that had made it right, and floundered on until they happened on it again, as if by chance. And now, on some nights as Carter slept beside her, she missed Luka so much it hurt; and she missed Carter. This wasn't working.
She didn't remember deciding to find a bar, only going in and ordering a beer which became three beers and then a shot of vodka which became a series of doubles. Fuck Carter. She'd show him that he couldn't control this. Couldn't control her.
And she didn't remember at what point she had decided to root Luka out. She used almost all her remaining cash on a cab, and had wondered what she would do if her were not there.
Sitting on the El courtesy of the handful of loose change she'd found in Luka's bedroom she cringed, hot with shame, when she recalled what she'd said to him. "I want to go to bed with you." And the worst of it was that she'd meant it then. But this was nothing to the shame engulfing her at Luka's having seen her in that state. He'd never seen her like that, should never see her like that. She knew for a certainty that if there was one person in the world she didn't want to see her drunk it was Luka. Her mother, Richard, Carter, OK. But oh, not Luka. She felt as though she had contaminated him. She hadn't told him about her drinking when they were together, and so she knew that he had never looked at her then and seen an alcoholic. She felt that she remained somehow clean to him. "Not any more" she muttered "Way to go, Abby."
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Red.
The bucket was red. Abby was pretty sure that she didn't own a red bucket and that if she did she wouldn't be keeping it by the bed. She ventured a look at her surroundings. Clock. Luka's clock; Luka's nightstand; Luka's bedroom; Luka's bed. She knew without looking that he was not in it. Abby sat up and lay down again immediately as a wave of nausea hit her bringing a cold sweat to her brow. Five minutes later she felt safe to try again. Moving more slowly this time she eased herself upright and waited a moment for the pounding in her head to subside. Maybe she could stand. Yes. That wasn't so bad, and she inched toward the bathroom, stopping to lean against the doorframe, exhausted by her exertions and only now registering that she'd been undressed. "Don't think about it" she told herself. She had the advantage of knowing where everything was and was able to shower largely on auto-pilot. But, using Luka's soap, she found herself suddenly surrounded by the scent of him and felt tears start to her eyes at the terrible waste of it all. And as she wrapped a towel around herself and looked for the toothpaste she began to cry in earnest. He had kept her toothbrush.
Luka intercepted Carter in the lounge as he was preparing to leave. Carter refused to meet his gaze, asking only "She OK?"
"She was still sleeping when I left. I left a note to say she should call you." A pause. "What did you argue about?"
"Not your business" Carter said with what sounded like a laugh. "Something and nothing, but not your damned business. Not any more" He turned to Luka with that and smiled, eyebrows raised. Luka supposed that this was to denote irony, and was not to be so easily deterred.
"Is this new? The drinking?" Carter didn't answer at all this time. Why wouldn't this bastard leave him alone?
"You need to talk to her"
"Coming from you that's almost funny" retorted Carter. Luka ran a hand across tired eyes.
"Look, like it or not, she came to me. She shouldn't have. I'm sure she knows that, but it was lucky it was me and not someone she met in a bar. She's putting herself at risk every time she's out alone like this."
"Keep out of it, Kovac," Carter said, shortly, "she's my business now."
"Go and talk to her!" Luka called after him. But he didn't know if he'd been heard. It seemed to have been a very long time since he'd been heard.
She felt a little better once she had showered, and cried and dressed. She made coffee, took the Tylenol which Luka had left out for her and picked up the note from the counter. "Abby, please call John. I will be in Doc Magoo's at 12.30 and would like to talk to you. L" She smiled at the curiously slanting hand. When first they were together she had joked that he even wrote with an accent. "Please call John". Well, yes. She had begun to piece together her recollection of the previous evening.
"8 O'clock meeting?" he had asked as she left work.
"Sure."
But she hadn't gone and when her 'phone rang at 8.30 she had picked it up without thinking.
"Hello?"
"You didn't go." Carter. Shit.
"Are you checking up on me?" His anger and disappointment were palpable in the silence that followed.
"You said you'd go"
"I was too tired. You're checking up on me?"
"You said you'd go" he repeated, more slowly as though he were speaking to a child or a foreigner. Or an idiot. "Why do you do this?"
"Do what?"
"Let me down. Let yourself down" he amended hastily.
"Is this about you?"
"Do you know what it's costing me, going through this?"
"It is about you."
"Why not? Do I not matter? I have a right -"
"You just stop right there you son of a bitch. You stop this now. You aren't my keeper and you do not have any right to check up on me!"
"Abby, all I want is for you to make the effort. I did it."
"Crap. You never bought into any of it! You went because you had to"
"But I went"
"You're not going now!"
"I'm not using now."
"And I'm not drinking now! It's been six months since I had a drink!"
"But you want to"
"Of course I want to! I'm an alcoholic!"
"So you should go"
"To make you feel better?" Silence for a moment. She heard him sigh. This was a bad idea; she should have hung up straight away.
"Look, Abby, all I'm saying is you should go, and I can say that because I know how you feel"
"No, you don't. You do not. No-one does. Jesus Christ, at least Luka never pretended to be able to read my mind." She stopped there, her words mocking her.
"Luka never understood anything" Carter said shortly, "You said as much yourself. We do. We're made of the same stuff."
"You know, I don't want to have this conversation. And you should leave Luka out of this."
"You brought it up! I don't want to talk about him; I never did." Abby realised at that moment that she was bored with this whole sorry scene.
"I have to go."
"Why, do you have some place to be?"
"I have to go. We'll talk tomorrow"
"Abby don't do this to me. Don't hang up!"
She hung up
She had made tea then, hands shaking with fury. Carter. Carter hadn't trusted her to keep her word. Losing sight of the fact that he'd been right, she cursed him. This wasn't how she had imagined it. Their easy banter, the instinctive understanding she thought they shared had evaporated the minute they'd slept together. And then there was the sex. It was . ok. It was pleasant. Perhaps she'd been spoilt. Whatever the shortcomings of her relationship with Luka the sex had never been anything less than exhilarating. But they'd been out on sync with each other in almost all other respects. Except when they weren't. Except for those odd times when they'd got it right and fallen into step with each other. But they never stopped to think about what it was that had made it right, and floundered on until they happened on it again, as if by chance. And now, on some nights as Carter slept beside her, she missed Luka so much it hurt; and she missed Carter. This wasn't working.
She didn't remember deciding to find a bar, only going in and ordering a beer which became three beers and then a shot of vodka which became a series of doubles. Fuck Carter. She'd show him that he couldn't control this. Couldn't control her.
And she didn't remember at what point she had decided to root Luka out. She used almost all her remaining cash on a cab, and had wondered what she would do if her were not there.
Sitting on the El courtesy of the handful of loose change she'd found in Luka's bedroom she cringed, hot with shame, when she recalled what she'd said to him. "I want to go to bed with you." And the worst of it was that she'd meant it then. But this was nothing to the shame engulfing her at Luka's having seen her in that state. He'd never seen her like that, should never see her like that. She knew for a certainty that if there was one person in the world she didn't want to see her drunk it was Luka. Her mother, Richard, Carter, OK. But oh, not Luka. She felt as though she had contaminated him. She hadn't told him about her drinking when they were together, and so she knew that he had never looked at her then and seen an alcoholic. She felt that she remained somehow clean to him. "Not any more" she muttered "Way to go, Abby."
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