Part VIII
Bastard. The bastard. Saint Luka. The bastard had said something to her and hey, John Carter was on his own again. Bastard. He wanted to hit something, someone, wondered what his chances would be against Kovac, thought better of it. He'd seen what the man was capable of. For an unhinged moment he toyed with the idea of goading him into lashing out. Do it at the hospital and he'd be out, his career finished, on a plane back to Zagreb and the bomb cratered wasteland he took Croatia to be. He knew it wouldn't work; he'd tried it once before but Kovac had refused to take the bait.
How had this happened? Three days ago everything had been fine, and now this. He was wrong of course and he knew it. Things hadn't been fine. They'd been finely balanced between success and failure, he and Abby, and the balance had tilted.
"John?" Carter sighed.
"Not now , Gamma."
"What is it?"
"It's nothing. I'm a little tired. Don't worry." His grandmother stood in the doorway to his room, eyebrows raised sceptically. She saw through him as she always had, and came to him, sitting beside him, taking his hand.
"You always say it's nothing. I don't believe you. Is it Abby?" Carter nodded mutely.
"You quarrelled?"
"Not exactly." He laughed. "We broke up."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"For your sorrow."
"You didn't like her."
"I didn't know her. I thought - "
"What?"
"I thought that you weren't right for each other."
"Well, apparently she agrees with you."
"John, you must have seen how needy she is; you need someone strong, grounded. "
Yeah, he thought, he needed a Kovac.
"She was strong. She is strong. She's been through so much and she's dealt with it alone."
"And I commend her for it. She's been a good friend to you , John. But there's a world of difference between a friend and a partner for the rest of your life. I don't think it wise to confuse the two."
"Gampa was your best friend."
"Yes, he was. But he was my lover, too, always. And there's no accounting for that. You need both, John. Nothing will last unless you have both. She doesn't feel that for you." A horrible thought occurred to her. "Is there - someone else?" Carter didn't know how to answer that.
"No."
"You don't seem certain if it." Carter was silent for a moment. He hadn't seriously thought that she'd go back to Kovac, not that.
"The guy she dated before. We argued and she went to him." He didn't tell her that she'd got loaded first. They hadn't told his grandmother about her drinking. They'd not been ready for that.
"And?"
"She still thinks about him I think."
"And him?"
"What?"
"It takes two, John. What did he do when she went to him?"
"He called me."
"Well, that's good, isn't it? He sounds like an honourable man." Yeah; Saint Luka.
"She went to him before. Before we were together. After her neighbour assaulted her - "
He saw the look on his grandmother's face and realised that this was something else she hadn't known. "It's a long story. Anyhow, she lived with him for a couple of months then."
"Lived with him?"
"No, not like that." I don't think, he added to himself. "Stayed at his place."
"He appears to care about her at least."
"I guess." Another silence which she didn't seek to break. "It's just - I don't like him."
"Well, that's your prerogative. What don't you like?"
"I don't know. He has a history."
"A history of what?"
"You name it. He's European, Croatian. He lost his wife and kids in the war there he says."
"Says? Do you doubt it?"
"No. No I guess not. It's just that I can't get past it. He's a good doctor, you know? Doesn't seem to ask much of people at the hospital. But when I look at him all I see is his suffering, like a badge. And then - "
"And then Abby."
"No. No, he killed a man." Carter sensed her shock, resented the interest behind it. "They were out. On a date - their first I think. They were attacked and he killed the guy. Beat his brains out. But she stayed with him! I guess she felt sorry for him. I just felt afraid of him."
"Why? Because of the violence?"
"No. Because I - I never felt that much in my whole life. Not that much love, not that much pain, not that much rage. He makes me feel as though I never felt anything."
"But you know that isn't true."
"No I don't. I shut down."
"I don't understand."
"After Bobby died. It's what Mom and Dad did and I did it too. I kept it shut down. And when I was stabbed it wasn't just that pain I felt, it was all of it, everything I'd kept stored away, spilling out. But I did feel. And Kovac seemed to rob me of that. Whatever I went through, whenever I looked at him it didn't compare to what he'd got."
"What he'd got?"
"Been through" he corrected himself.
"You make it sound like a contest" she said quietly.
"Yeah. Every time I hurt I'd look at him and feel as though I didn't have the right. I just wanted him out of my sight. I hated him, Gamma. It's wrong of me but I did. I do."
"We often hate those to whom we are unjust."
"What?"
"You resent his pain. It's almost as if you covet it." Carter shook his head.
"No."
"It sounds to me like the sort of prize he - anyone - would rather not have won. What do you suppose he sees when he looks at you?"
"What?"
"Rich man, drug addict, stabbing victim?"
"I don't know. Doctor I think. I don't really care."
"But you do. You do care." Carter just shook his head again. "John, you don't want to be defined by what happened to you. I understand that, I applaud that. But it's only you doing it. Don't you want your life back?"
"I thought I had it!"
"In Abby? Oh, John it doesn't work like that. Love doesn't do that and it doesn't ask it. You can be prepared to die for each other but you can't live for each other. You do that, look what happens. She's gone and where's your life?" Carter was crying now, like the little boy he always was to her. "Things happened to you that shouldn't. But you're more than the boy who lived when his brother died; more than a victim of violence, more than a drug addict. They're all part of you, but you're more than that. You have to learn to believe it."
She was right, Carter knew. He thought of Chase who had rushed headlong into disaster and who had sat, unimpressed at his admission of his own addiction. But it was the only real confession he'd ever made about it. The rehab, the therapy, the meetings, all had been a means to an end. The wrong end. He'd done it to get back to work, to regain the status which he felt validated him. He hadn't done it to get his life back. And he knew he had to. Step 9. Making amends. He acknowledged the truth of his grandmother's words. "We often hate those to whom we are unjust." And knew too that at some point there would have to be a reckoning with Kovac, But not yet. No, not yet.
Bastard. The bastard. Saint Luka. The bastard had said something to her and hey, John Carter was on his own again. Bastard. He wanted to hit something, someone, wondered what his chances would be against Kovac, thought better of it. He'd seen what the man was capable of. For an unhinged moment he toyed with the idea of goading him into lashing out. Do it at the hospital and he'd be out, his career finished, on a plane back to Zagreb and the bomb cratered wasteland he took Croatia to be. He knew it wouldn't work; he'd tried it once before but Kovac had refused to take the bait.
How had this happened? Three days ago everything had been fine, and now this. He was wrong of course and he knew it. Things hadn't been fine. They'd been finely balanced between success and failure, he and Abby, and the balance had tilted.
"John?" Carter sighed.
"Not now , Gamma."
"What is it?"
"It's nothing. I'm a little tired. Don't worry." His grandmother stood in the doorway to his room, eyebrows raised sceptically. She saw through him as she always had, and came to him, sitting beside him, taking his hand.
"You always say it's nothing. I don't believe you. Is it Abby?" Carter nodded mutely.
"You quarrelled?"
"Not exactly." He laughed. "We broke up."
"I'm sorry."
"Are you?"
"For your sorrow."
"You didn't like her."
"I didn't know her. I thought - "
"What?"
"I thought that you weren't right for each other."
"Well, apparently she agrees with you."
"John, you must have seen how needy she is; you need someone strong, grounded. "
Yeah, he thought, he needed a Kovac.
"She was strong. She is strong. She's been through so much and she's dealt with it alone."
"And I commend her for it. She's been a good friend to you , John. But there's a world of difference between a friend and a partner for the rest of your life. I don't think it wise to confuse the two."
"Gampa was your best friend."
"Yes, he was. But he was my lover, too, always. And there's no accounting for that. You need both, John. Nothing will last unless you have both. She doesn't feel that for you." A horrible thought occurred to her. "Is there - someone else?" Carter didn't know how to answer that.
"No."
"You don't seem certain if it." Carter was silent for a moment. He hadn't seriously thought that she'd go back to Kovac, not that.
"The guy she dated before. We argued and she went to him." He didn't tell her that she'd got loaded first. They hadn't told his grandmother about her drinking. They'd not been ready for that.
"And?"
"She still thinks about him I think."
"And him?"
"What?"
"It takes two, John. What did he do when she went to him?"
"He called me."
"Well, that's good, isn't it? He sounds like an honourable man." Yeah; Saint Luka.
"She went to him before. Before we were together. After her neighbour assaulted her - "
He saw the look on his grandmother's face and realised that this was something else she hadn't known. "It's a long story. Anyhow, she lived with him for a couple of months then."
"Lived with him?"
"No, not like that." I don't think, he added to himself. "Stayed at his place."
"He appears to care about her at least."
"I guess." Another silence which she didn't seek to break. "It's just - I don't like him."
"Well, that's your prerogative. What don't you like?"
"I don't know. He has a history."
"A history of what?"
"You name it. He's European, Croatian. He lost his wife and kids in the war there he says."
"Says? Do you doubt it?"
"No. No I guess not. It's just that I can't get past it. He's a good doctor, you know? Doesn't seem to ask much of people at the hospital. But when I look at him all I see is his suffering, like a badge. And then - "
"And then Abby."
"No. No, he killed a man." Carter sensed her shock, resented the interest behind it. "They were out. On a date - their first I think. They were attacked and he killed the guy. Beat his brains out. But she stayed with him! I guess she felt sorry for him. I just felt afraid of him."
"Why? Because of the violence?"
"No. Because I - I never felt that much in my whole life. Not that much love, not that much pain, not that much rage. He makes me feel as though I never felt anything."
"But you know that isn't true."
"No I don't. I shut down."
"I don't understand."
"After Bobby died. It's what Mom and Dad did and I did it too. I kept it shut down. And when I was stabbed it wasn't just that pain I felt, it was all of it, everything I'd kept stored away, spilling out. But I did feel. And Kovac seemed to rob me of that. Whatever I went through, whenever I looked at him it didn't compare to what he'd got."
"What he'd got?"
"Been through" he corrected himself.
"You make it sound like a contest" she said quietly.
"Yeah. Every time I hurt I'd look at him and feel as though I didn't have the right. I just wanted him out of my sight. I hated him, Gamma. It's wrong of me but I did. I do."
"We often hate those to whom we are unjust."
"What?"
"You resent his pain. It's almost as if you covet it." Carter shook his head.
"No."
"It sounds to me like the sort of prize he - anyone - would rather not have won. What do you suppose he sees when he looks at you?"
"What?"
"Rich man, drug addict, stabbing victim?"
"I don't know. Doctor I think. I don't really care."
"But you do. You do care." Carter just shook his head again. "John, you don't want to be defined by what happened to you. I understand that, I applaud that. But it's only you doing it. Don't you want your life back?"
"I thought I had it!"
"In Abby? Oh, John it doesn't work like that. Love doesn't do that and it doesn't ask it. You can be prepared to die for each other but you can't live for each other. You do that, look what happens. She's gone and where's your life?" Carter was crying now, like the little boy he always was to her. "Things happened to you that shouldn't. But you're more than the boy who lived when his brother died; more than a victim of violence, more than a drug addict. They're all part of you, but you're more than that. You have to learn to believe it."
She was right, Carter knew. He thought of Chase who had rushed headlong into disaster and who had sat, unimpressed at his admission of his own addiction. But it was the only real confession he'd ever made about it. The rehab, the therapy, the meetings, all had been a means to an end. The wrong end. He'd done it to get back to work, to regain the status which he felt validated him. He hadn't done it to get his life back. And he knew he had to. Step 9. Making amends. He acknowledged the truth of his grandmother's words. "We often hate those to whom we are unjust." And knew too that at some point there would have to be a reckoning with Kovac, But not yet. No, not yet.