Part XIV
The incense made Abby' eyes sore.
She watched Luka; stood when he stood, knelt when he knelt, sat when he sat. Crossed herself, joined in the amens. Amen. The same in any language.
The Catholic service was alien to her; its being conducted in Croatian made it surreal. She'd gone to the funeral because she feared the church being half empty and because Luka had not said no when she asked if she might. The church was full.
He was to have been one of the pall bearers, but the lack of 5 other similarly tall men from the community presented a problem. She'd been relieved when he'd smiled telling her this. So, he had walked behind the coffin instead with Rosa's granddaughter, a small plain woman with a gaggle of teenage sons, and had then sought her out, when she had held his hand briefly. Amen.
The tables along the side of the hall looked set to collapse under the weight of the food on them. The noise was immense. She couldn't help but compare it to the frigid affair which had followed the funeral of Carter's grandfather. Carter. Carter was she knew in Venice with his father and grandmother. She didn't envy him; realised that, bizarrely, she didn't at this precise moment envy anyone in the world.
Luka she noted ate nothing. At the point at which the drink began to flow she found him at her side.
"We should get going. They'll be singing soon and I don't think I'm up to it."
"You OK?"
"Sure. Actually, it's good to see a proper funeral. There was never time ."
"I understand."
"I should make my goodbyes. Come with me." He took her arm and together they went from one old lady to the next. The all took his hands in theirs and pulled him down to kiss his face; some embraced and kissed Abby too, smiling into her face and, she realised, repeating the same phrase to her. She nodded and smiled, not knowing what else to do. Finally Luka spoke to the priest and gave him an envelope from his pocket. Abby wondered if Luka had paid for the funeral, but was pretty sure that Rosa had made provision. As they were leaving Rosa's granddaughter beckoned Luka and handed him a brown paper package on which his name was written in emphatic capital letters. Luka seemed to protest, showed the woman Rosa's wedding ring which he wore on his left hand; indicated the woman's own sons. She shook her head and pressed the parcel against his chest before letting it go so that Luka must make a grab for it. The granddaughter crossed her arms so that he could not return it. He hesitated for a moment and then said something very quietly to her. She nodded and embraced him. And they were free.
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"You know," he said once they were outside "I couldn't stay in there, but I really could use a drink."
"Me too."
"Funny."
"I'm sorry."
"No, no. It's a strange thing, you know. People cry at weddings, but I always want to laugh at funerals."
"Really?"
"Some funerals."
"Well, I'll stand you a drink. "
"It's OK."
"No, I'll be fine. Nothing in the rules to say I can't watch someone else drink, is there?" "I guess not. If you're sure."
"Sure I'm sure. Come on."
It wasn't as hard as she'd expected, maybe because of her concern for Luka.
"What were they saying to me?"
"Who?"
"Your ladies."
"Oh, that." He paused. "They were wishing you long life and happiness and - " he stopped abruptly. Abby was astonished to see him blush.
"And what?"
"And . many children."
"What?!"
"They assumed . " He didn't finish. The truth dawned.
"Not really."
"Really. Nothing to do with me! I never said a word."
"You didn't set them straight, though."
"You've seen the granddaughters. Don't be cross."
"I'm not cross."
"I think Rosa may have had a hand in it."
"Oh, you do. And speaking of Rosa, what's in the package?" He seemed to have forgotten it. Opened it carefully and sat back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. "I thought so." Inside the wrapping was a shirt of very fine white linen, its front and sleeves embroidered in a complex pattern of flowers and fruit.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Her son's. She embroidered it for him. It's traditional dress."
"Her son's?"
"Mine now. Tatjana just said it was something of her father's. Her sons have her late husband's. Rosa wanted me to have this."
"Do you have one of your own?"
"Not any more." No. Of course not. Stupid question.
"It's beautiful."
"Well," he said, raising his glass, "To Rosa."
"To Rosa." Who I hope will excuse a toast in diet Coke.
In the end Luka got a little drunk. She watched him with some curiosity, realising that she'd not seen this before. Not miserable, belligerent, loud; just more of himself somehow, his gaze a little softer, his smile a little warmer. She felt a little drunk herself, watching him.
"Keys" she said, holding out her hand. He dropped them into her palm.
"I'm sorry. "
"You earned it. You sort of missed Christmas, didn't you."
"You too."
"Yeah," she smiled, "but I get to drive the Viper, and you get to pay my cab fare."
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"How do you not spend your life in Traffic School?"
"What?"
"This thing cannot be driven slowly. I feel like it's going to get away from me any minute."
"You get used to it."
"Not me. Why'd you buy it?"
"Impulse. You know: fun."
"Ah, yes fun. Expensive impulse."
"I earned it."
"I guess you did."
"I've been thinking I'll sell it."
"No! Why? You've only had it, what - two years?" She knew precisely how long he'd had the car.
"Not quite."
"So why?"
"Something more practical - for my ladies when they need ferrying around. And it's not really suitable for funerals."
"You planning on a lot of them?"
"You've seen them, Abby. There'll be a few. Anyway, I think I got it out of my system." Abby didn't think he was talking about acceleration.
"You did?"
"Finally." That include me? She wanted to ask. Do you remember what you said to me?
He managed his door keys perfectly well.
"You want some coffee? I'll make it weak."
"Sure. I'll just call a cab. Half an hour?"
"Whatever suits you."
Abby leaned against the counter as he made coffee.
"You on tomorrow?"
"Night."
"New Years in the ER. Who could ask for more?"
"What about you?"
"New Year's Day." "That's for amateurs." He said. "Abby." He paused.
"What?"
"I want to say thank you for the last few days."
"No need."
"No, there is. It can't have been how you'd thought of spending Christmas."
"Nor you."
"I - didn't - don't expect much of Christmas any more."
"I'm glad we had the chance to . to talk properly."
They'd woken the day after Christmas curled together on Rosa' bed, cold, hungry, a bit groggy. Emotionally hung over. She hadn't wanted to move, but he'd nudged her upright, brushing her hair from her face with his hands, chaffing her fingers. They'd managed to make tea and toast from what Rosa had, and he'd stopped, his hand over his eyes when he saw the extra little luxuries she'd stockpiled for Christmas. A bottle of plum brandy, chocolate, cheese. Abby went to him and laid an arm across his back, rested her forehead on his arm. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's go." And he'd held her hand as they went down the stairs, but they barely spoke all the way to Abby's apartment where he leaned over and kissed her forehead.
"The funeral?"
"I'll call you."
"Long overdue, huh?"
"I guess."
"I don't want you to worry. You've been very kind, but - I'm not your problem."
"No, Luka, you're my friend."
"You should make time for yourself is all. You've earned it."
"We've been doing a lot of earning." He nodded.
"There's your cab," he said as the door bell rang. He walked her downstairs and closed the cab door behind her, handing enough for the fare to the driver, then he turned to her. "I won't see you, so Happy New Year."
"You Too." On an impulse she reached up and pulled him down to kiss his mouth. "Get some rest, Luka."
The incense made Abby' eyes sore.
She watched Luka; stood when he stood, knelt when he knelt, sat when he sat. Crossed herself, joined in the amens. Amen. The same in any language.
The Catholic service was alien to her; its being conducted in Croatian made it surreal. She'd gone to the funeral because she feared the church being half empty and because Luka had not said no when she asked if she might. The church was full.
He was to have been one of the pall bearers, but the lack of 5 other similarly tall men from the community presented a problem. She'd been relieved when he'd smiled telling her this. So, he had walked behind the coffin instead with Rosa's granddaughter, a small plain woman with a gaggle of teenage sons, and had then sought her out, when she had held his hand briefly. Amen.
The tables along the side of the hall looked set to collapse under the weight of the food on them. The noise was immense. She couldn't help but compare it to the frigid affair which had followed the funeral of Carter's grandfather. Carter. Carter was she knew in Venice with his father and grandmother. She didn't envy him; realised that, bizarrely, she didn't at this precise moment envy anyone in the world.
Luka she noted ate nothing. At the point at which the drink began to flow she found him at her side.
"We should get going. They'll be singing soon and I don't think I'm up to it."
"You OK?"
"Sure. Actually, it's good to see a proper funeral. There was never time ."
"I understand."
"I should make my goodbyes. Come with me." He took her arm and together they went from one old lady to the next. The all took his hands in theirs and pulled him down to kiss his face; some embraced and kissed Abby too, smiling into her face and, she realised, repeating the same phrase to her. She nodded and smiled, not knowing what else to do. Finally Luka spoke to the priest and gave him an envelope from his pocket. Abby wondered if Luka had paid for the funeral, but was pretty sure that Rosa had made provision. As they were leaving Rosa's granddaughter beckoned Luka and handed him a brown paper package on which his name was written in emphatic capital letters. Luka seemed to protest, showed the woman Rosa's wedding ring which he wore on his left hand; indicated the woman's own sons. She shook her head and pressed the parcel against his chest before letting it go so that Luka must make a grab for it. The granddaughter crossed her arms so that he could not return it. He hesitated for a moment and then said something very quietly to her. She nodded and embraced him. And they were free.
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"You know," he said once they were outside "I couldn't stay in there, but I really could use a drink."
"Me too."
"Funny."
"I'm sorry."
"No, no. It's a strange thing, you know. People cry at weddings, but I always want to laugh at funerals."
"Really?"
"Some funerals."
"Well, I'll stand you a drink. "
"It's OK."
"No, I'll be fine. Nothing in the rules to say I can't watch someone else drink, is there?" "I guess not. If you're sure."
"Sure I'm sure. Come on."
It wasn't as hard as she'd expected, maybe because of her concern for Luka.
"What were they saying to me?"
"Who?"
"Your ladies."
"Oh, that." He paused. "They were wishing you long life and happiness and - " he stopped abruptly. Abby was astonished to see him blush.
"And what?"
"And . many children."
"What?!"
"They assumed . " He didn't finish. The truth dawned.
"Not really."
"Really. Nothing to do with me! I never said a word."
"You didn't set them straight, though."
"You've seen the granddaughters. Don't be cross."
"I'm not cross."
"I think Rosa may have had a hand in it."
"Oh, you do. And speaking of Rosa, what's in the package?" He seemed to have forgotten it. Opened it carefully and sat back with a sigh, staring at the ceiling. "I thought so." Inside the wrapping was a shirt of very fine white linen, its front and sleeves embroidered in a complex pattern of flowers and fruit.
"Wow."
"Yeah."
"What is it?"
"Her son's. She embroidered it for him. It's traditional dress."
"Her son's?"
"Mine now. Tatjana just said it was something of her father's. Her sons have her late husband's. Rosa wanted me to have this."
"Do you have one of your own?"
"Not any more." No. Of course not. Stupid question.
"It's beautiful."
"Well," he said, raising his glass, "To Rosa."
"To Rosa." Who I hope will excuse a toast in diet Coke.
In the end Luka got a little drunk. She watched him with some curiosity, realising that she'd not seen this before. Not miserable, belligerent, loud; just more of himself somehow, his gaze a little softer, his smile a little warmer. She felt a little drunk herself, watching him.
"Keys" she said, holding out her hand. He dropped them into her palm.
"I'm sorry. "
"You earned it. You sort of missed Christmas, didn't you."
"You too."
"Yeah," she smiled, "but I get to drive the Viper, and you get to pay my cab fare."
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"How do you not spend your life in Traffic School?"
"What?"
"This thing cannot be driven slowly. I feel like it's going to get away from me any minute."
"You get used to it."
"Not me. Why'd you buy it?"
"Impulse. You know: fun."
"Ah, yes fun. Expensive impulse."
"I earned it."
"I guess you did."
"I've been thinking I'll sell it."
"No! Why? You've only had it, what - two years?" She knew precisely how long he'd had the car.
"Not quite."
"So why?"
"Something more practical - for my ladies when they need ferrying around. And it's not really suitable for funerals."
"You planning on a lot of them?"
"You've seen them, Abby. There'll be a few. Anyway, I think I got it out of my system." Abby didn't think he was talking about acceleration.
"You did?"
"Finally." That include me? She wanted to ask. Do you remember what you said to me?
He managed his door keys perfectly well.
"You want some coffee? I'll make it weak."
"Sure. I'll just call a cab. Half an hour?"
"Whatever suits you."
Abby leaned against the counter as he made coffee.
"You on tomorrow?"
"Night."
"New Years in the ER. Who could ask for more?"
"What about you?"
"New Year's Day." "That's for amateurs." He said. "Abby." He paused.
"What?"
"I want to say thank you for the last few days."
"No need."
"No, there is. It can't have been how you'd thought of spending Christmas."
"Nor you."
"I - didn't - don't expect much of Christmas any more."
"I'm glad we had the chance to . to talk properly."
They'd woken the day after Christmas curled together on Rosa' bed, cold, hungry, a bit groggy. Emotionally hung over. She hadn't wanted to move, but he'd nudged her upright, brushing her hair from her face with his hands, chaffing her fingers. They'd managed to make tea and toast from what Rosa had, and he'd stopped, his hand over his eyes when he saw the extra little luxuries she'd stockpiled for Christmas. A bottle of plum brandy, chocolate, cheese. Abby went to him and laid an arm across his back, rested her forehead on his arm. He wiped the tears from his eyes and took a deep breath. "Let's go." And he'd held her hand as they went down the stairs, but they barely spoke all the way to Abby's apartment where he leaned over and kissed her forehead.
"The funeral?"
"I'll call you."
"Long overdue, huh?"
"I guess."
"I don't want you to worry. You've been very kind, but - I'm not your problem."
"No, Luka, you're my friend."
"You should make time for yourself is all. You've earned it."
"We've been doing a lot of earning." He nodded.
"There's your cab," he said as the door bell rang. He walked her downstairs and closed the cab door behind her, handing enough for the fare to the driver, then he turned to her. "I won't see you, so Happy New Year."
"You Too." On an impulse she reached up and pulled him down to kiss his mouth. "Get some rest, Luka."