Susan was sitting in her little Volkswagen, her hands on the steering
wheel. How long had she been there? She watched the street where she had
parked. It didn't seem too secure. The whole neighbourhood wasn't the
safest in Chicago. Would her wipers or her headlights get stolen if she
left the car there? Wouldn't it be better if she just drove away and came
tomorrow using the EL?
"Oh, come on. It's just a short visit," she chided herself as she gathered her purse and the potted plant.
She knew she wasn't particularly worried about the destiny of her wipers or headlights. She'd dropped by Luka's room at the hospital twice, but both times had been kind of awkward. The first time had been easier, though. Luka had been with his father, had introduced them, and then had spent the whole half hour translating from English to Croatian and back as Susan and his father embarked in light-hearted bantering. When Luka had refused to translate some too personal remarks, Pavle had done his best to get Susan to understand him in a broken English, and the three of them had had a good laugh at his attempts.
The second time had been much harder. Luka had been alone and in a sulky mood. Susan's dry wit had brushed over him, and after some uncomfortable minutes she had just fled, feeling guiltier than if she hadn't been there at all.
And now it had been over two weeks since Luka had left the hospital. Susan knew that apart from Carter and Abby, nobody from County had dropped by. They all believed they had fulfilled their duty by visiting him at the hospital. When Susan had asked about him, Abby had voiced her concerns. He was lonely and missed his father and was falling fast into the dark mood he'd been into before travelling to the Congo.
Susan pressed the buzzer, and waited. She was relieved when some minutes passed without any answer. She was about to turn around and head back to her car when a male voice resounded in the device.
"Yes?"
"Luka?"
There was no answer for a while.
"I'm looking for Luka Kovac."
The door buzzed.
"Come in," said the voice.
When she reached Luka's door, there was a tall man standing on the entrance.
"Is this Dr. Kovac's apartment?"
The man nodded.
"And you are. . . " blurted Susan, before she could help herself.
The man held out his hand.
"Jack Tanner. I'm Dr. Kovac's therapist."
She blushed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. . . "
"Never mind, It's all right," said the man with a wink. "And you are. . . "
Susan smiled.
"Susan Lewis. I'm one of Luka's. . . of Dr. Kovac's colleagues. I've come. . . you know. . . "
She lifted the plant slightly and smiled.
Jack's smile widened. He opened the door.
"Please come in," he said heartily. "We're in great need of plants."
Susan chuckled as she entered. She glanced around the living room. Luka was not to be seen.
"I thought the place would look like the Amazon jungle by now," she said, leaving the pot on the table by the door.
"Not really," answered Jack as he took her coat.
He looked at her squarely.
"Actually Luka hasn't had many visitors, you know."
Instead of faking surprise, she just nodded.
"Do you think I'll end wearing the plant on my head when I head for the door?" She asked playfully.
"I won't leave it within his reach, I promise."
Susan chuckled again. Jack pointed at the hall, which started right across the living room.
"He's down there. First door to the left."
"Aren't you going to. . . " Susan nodded emphatically towards the hall.
He shook his head.
"What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"It really doesn't matter."
"You'll get fired," she admonished.
"He can't fire me," retorted Jack with a smile. "Dr. Carter hired me, not him."
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, great. So you're letting me go alone into the lion's den," she sighed, while she crossed the living room.
She knocked on the door and then turned the knob. Luka was lying flat on his back on the bed. He was wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of Cargoes. A funny patterned comforter partly covered his legs.
He rolled his head to see who it was and a gleam flashed briefly in his eyes. Susan tried to spot what it was. Annoyance? Glee? Surprise? She grinned nervously.
"Uh. . . hey."
"Hello, Susan," he answered, his voice emotionless.
He then raised on one elbow and pulled himself up in the bed. He grimaced slightly. Out of a sheer impulse, Susan hurried to prop a pillow behind his back, but she stumbled on a pile of books on the floor. She fell on her knees by the bed, her face very close to Luka's. They were both shocked still for a second. Then she pulled away. She cast a rapid glance at him and then had a look around, embarrassed. When she lowered her sight she spotted the books on the floor.
"Gee, I'm sorry, I hope I haven't damaged any of these. . . " she knelt again and started piling them up. "Why don't you leave them on the nightstand?"
She didn't get an answer. She looked up again and met his gaze. His expression was wary. His eyes bore inquisitively into hers.
"Susan, why did you come?"
His straightforwardness abashed her and left her at a lack for words. She looked down again and started gathering the items from her bag, which were scattered on the floor.
"Uh, eh. . . well. . . I was wondering. . ." She stuttered, while she gathered her mascara and her car keys.
Suddenly she spotted the video she'd rented the day before and she got an idea.
"I was wondering whether you had plans for the evening."
Luka smiled ruefully.
"Yes, I do."
"Do you?"
He sounded so serious she couldn't help wondering what they would be. She darted him another look.
"To stare at the ceiling."
She lifted her eyebrows. Irony was more than evident in his voice but Susan didn't know how to interpret it. Was it directed against her? Against his illness? Against himself?
"I thought you were supposed to be sitting up after all those weeks of lying down. In fact. . ." She remembered what she was going to do when she stumbled down, and reached for the pillow. "I was going to help you with this. . ."
He leant forward so she could stuff the pillow behind his back. He winced a little.
"PT is killing me," he grunted, as he leant back.
Susan smiled. She was pleased to see him accepting her help and noticing they had somehow managed to spring over the first moments of awkwardness. She stood up and got another pillow for him to lean his head on.
"Well, that's what it is supposed to be: a slow and painful death," she said, handing the pillow to him.
She sat on the edge of the bed as he put the pillow behind his own head.
"Thank you, Susan. You give so much comfort."
The ironic undercurrent was still there, but now it was milder, and definitely not directed against her.
"I know, I know. . . "
There was a pause and Susan wondered whether they would be able to keep up the light mood. But he didn't say a word and silence started to get uncomfortable. She sighed.
"Oh, well, since you have such interesting plans I guess watching a movie's not going to compete with them. . . "
"Which movie?"
She tossed him the video she had gathered from the floor. She had in fact watched it the night before, and had been meaning to return it to the video store that same evening, after having stopped by Luka's.
He had a look at it.
"Sense and Sensibility?" He read out loud, disbelievingly.
"I didn't know what kind of movies you like, so I just chose something I would like to see."
"Well, Susan, THAT was very thoughtful of you. . . "
He had another look at the cover.
"Jane Austen. Her novels any good?"
"I wouldn't know," Susan shrugged. "Haven't read any of them."
She had another look at the pile of books.
"In fact, I'd say you would be more likely to have come across a book of hers. . . " And before he had the chance to reply, she added. "I never thought you read so much, Luka."
"Just something I've picked up again lately," he explained warily.
She noticed one lying on the bed by him. There was a slip of paper trapped in its pages, serving as a bookmark. Luka had apparently read three fourths of the book already. She reached for it, and he made a weak movement to stop her, but didn't go all the way through, as if he didn't dare. She noticed it however, and felt she was trespassing. Nonetheless, she had a look at the beautiful golden letters engraved on the cover.
"Doctor Zhivago?"
He nodded.
"Beautiful story," she commented handing the book back to him.
"Have you read it?" He asked in surprise, and she chuckled.
"No, but I've seen the movie. . . " She tilted her head to one side, considering it. "In fact, I've seen two versions of it. There was one filmed in the nineteen sixties, I think, and one that's more recent. I saw it a couple of months ago, by the way. Nice sets."
He shook his head, smiling.
"Hey, what did you expect? I come from the country with the world's biggest film industry."
"India?" Luka cocked one of his eyebrows. "What?"
"I would have never guessed you came from India."
"What?"
"They produce more movies than the States."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm just playing the idiot savant," quipped Luka.
Susan laughed. There was another pause.
"Bad choice, wasn't it?" Asked Susan with a grimace, stretching out her hand to get the video back. Of course, he wouldn't want to see a period film with her. Where had she got that idea from?
It wasn't just that the film was more of the kind one would rent when one planned a slumber party. Luka had always been reserved about his private life, and they had always had a distant relationship at work. The closest they had come to each other had been rude teasing about their sexual slips over in the ER. He hadn't expected her to come, and he hadn't been particularly pleased to see her. A short visit and a little small talk was all that it was supposed to be. She was figuring out what she could say to him: glad to see you're doing better, hope you join us soon, when he took the video out of the box.
"Why don't you put it in the VCR?" He asked, giving her both the video and the remote control.
Susan stood up and glanced around. The TV and the VCR stood on a rolling stand by the foot of the bed. She turned the VCR on and pushed the movie into the slot.
"I'll check our supplies. There should be some beer in the fridge," he added. "There might be some pop corn too, but I'm not so sure about it. . . "
She heard him rumble around with something, and turned around. He had shoved the comforter to one side and was sitting on the side of the bed. He was trying to get to the crutches, which were leaning against the wall. Susan couldn't help staring at the orthopaedic frame that stuck out from the side of his left leg, through a large opening in his pants. Gee, that must hurt, she thought. She came close to the bed waving her hand dismissively.
"Hey, why don't you let me go to the kitchen and you can get the honour of rewinding the video in the meantime."
But she was a little bit too late. He'd already grabbed the crutches and had stood up. He looked down at her from the advantage of his height.
"Gee, Susan. First you scold me for lying in bed and then you don't want me to get out of it."
"Hey, I'm just suggesting that you SIT UP and stare at the ceiling. Know how much you like that," she retorted.
He grinned and shook his head, but wheeled round and headed for the door, anyway. She tried not to stare as he slowly made his way out. When he had got to the threshold, he looked back at her.
"If you're so eager to help you can get a couple of cushions from the sofa," he suggested.
Susan studied the remote control and pushed the rewind button, and then headed for the living room. She could listen to Luka and Jack talking quietly in the kitchen. She picked up some cushions and a blanket from the sofa and went back to the room. She piled the cushions against the headboard and sat down, on the side that was farthest from the door. She was flickering through the channels when she heard Luka and Jack coming back. They were still talking to each other.
". . . the story about the couch being too low for your leg was but a weak excuse to get girls into your room." Jack was saying. He obviously didn't think she could hear them.
Susan smiled ruefully to herself. As if Luka had ever had trouble getting women into his bedroom, she thought. She made an effort to wipe the smile from her face, since Luka was already standing on the threshold. Luka was carrying a six pack, holding it from the plastic rings with one of his fingers while he manoeuvred with his crutches. Jack held a big bowl of popcorn. Susan leant over in the bed and took the beer from Luka while Jack left the bowl on the nightstand. He helped Luka to sit down and left the crutches where Luka could reach them.
"All right," he said, straightening up again. "So I'll see you tomorrow, Luka. Nice meeting you, Susan."
"Aren't you staying?" Asked Susan, and then she bit her lip.
She hoped her voice hadn't sounded too eager. She was, in fact, not very comfortable with the idea of spending the evening in Luka's company. She had proposed the movie out of an impulse, a feeling that was partly guilt and partly fear of being told she'd dropped by just to ease her own conscience. But now she feared that what she had really done was to prolong an uncomfortable visit.
"I've seen that one already, but thank you. See you tomorrow at eight, then," he added, addressing Luka.
Luka nodded. Jack was about to turn around, when he stopped on his tracks, as if he'd suddenly remembered something important.
"Eh, Susan. . . " he said, turning around. "There are some sandwiches in the fridge. Can you just make sure he eats something before he goes to bed?"
Susan didn't get to answer. Before she could utter the slightest word, and before Jack could duck his head, Luka had thrown him a cushion. Susan decided she liked Jack.
"Well, yeah, I'll try, though I haven't had much practice feeding toddlers, you know. . . " She received a blow from a pillow and giggled. She took a cushion from behind her back and hit Luka back.
Jack watched their battle from the threshold, a smile playing in the corners of his mouth. He hadn't seen Luka so relaxed in the couple of weeks he'd worked for him. He marvelled at what a visit from one of his colleagues could do to raise his spirits. He shook his head.
"Well, that's doctors for you," he commented as if to himself while he picked the cushion from the floor, and threw it back on the bed. He hurried out of the room right before another pillow hit him.
"Good night!" He screamed, making his way through the living room.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
Susan cast Luka an oblique glance as the credits rolled. He was looking at the screen, leaning against the cushions stacked behind him, apparently at ease, as he'd been during the whole movie. She'd been checking on him from time to time, to make sure he wasn't getting bored, but he had seemed to enjoy the film. He rolled his head towards her.
"That was a good movie," he commented, and she was surprised to see the openness of his smile. "Had you seen it before?"
She nodded, as she stopped the movie and turned off the TV. She had to make an effort to stand up and take out the video from the VCR. It was hard to leave the warmth of the blanket she'd tossed over her legs. She padded over to the TV and crouched by it.
"Would you like something to eat? Jack's sandwiches are really good."
She turned around, surprised by the offer. Luka had turned on the reading lamp by the head board and was squinting in the sharp light. The warm smile was still shining on his face. She nodded emphatically.
"All right. Let's go, then," he said, leaning forward.
"Wouldn't you like to stay here? I can bring in the sandwiches," Susan offered.
"We can sit in the kitchen," Luka retorted.
"I thought you wouldn't like to part from your comforter, Linus."
Susan couldn't help alluding to the garment with a mischievous smile. The small white planets, moons and stars on the navy blue background were a bit childish, and made a sharp contrast with the rest of Luka's furniture. She thought that he wouldn't understand the reference to Charlie Brown or that he'd try to answer to her teasing, but he did neither. Instead, his reaction was astonishing. He looked down and his smile turned somewhat sad as he passed the palm of one of his hands over it as if in a slight caress. His eyes were deep with longing when he looked up at her.
"It's kind of a keepsake," he said, very quietly.
Then he cleared his throat, pulling up his defences once again.
"We'll be better in the kitchen. And I don't want you scattering crusts on my bed. . ."
"Oh, come on. . ." Somehow Susan managed to keep up with the bantering. "Do you really believe me capable of . . ."
"Yes, and much, MUCH worse," retorted Luka.
"Come on," he said, as he stood up, got an empty beer can from the night stand and tossed it into the empty popcorn bowl. "You'll have to carry that into the kitchen."
"Do you expect me to clean up after what you've just said?" Asked Susan, her hands on her hips.
Luka winked.
"The only good thing about being an invalid."
"Hm. . . I'm sure you've already found out many other ways of taking advantage of the situation," she retorted, and heard him chuckle as he slowly made his way out of the room.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
"So, how's Chuck doing?" asked Luka out of the blue.
Susan had to gulp down a bite of her sandwich before she answered. They were sitting face to face in Luka's kitchen, around the little table, and had been sharing the food in companionable silence.
"Busy."
"Busy?"
"Night shifts," Susan explained and gave her sandwich another bite.
Luka raised his eyebrows.
"That's something I don't miss from County," he commented.
"When are you coming back?" Asked Susan through a half filled mouth, and was surprised at the fact that it didn't sound like a mere politesse. Their watching a movie together and their sharing supper had already broken the ice barrier she'd thought would be insurmountable.
Luka didn't have to think it over before he answered:
"In nine days."
He had a sip of coke. Susan gawked at him.
"Are you counting the days?"
Luka shook his head, cracking a smile.
"No, not really."
"Gee, I thought you'd gone mad," said Susan, shaking her head. Then she thought it again.
"But that's right before Christmas. . . Aren't you going to take some days off?"
"Me?"
Somehow, Luka seemed astonished at the possibility of taking time off during the holiday season, and only then Susan came to think he usually ended up stuck in the ER during Christmas and New Year. She was astounded to realise that he must have done it on purpose. Moreover, she was stunned by the fact she'd never thought about it during all the years they had worked together.
"Maybe we'll end up covering the ER together during Christmas," She winked.
"Are you on on the 24th?" Asked Luka.
Though he didn't seem bothered by the prospect of working through the holidays, he was dismayed to know Susan would have to do so.
"Yeah. It doesn't matter, though. Chuck is on as well."
"And what about your family?"
Susan smiled wryly. It was incredible they'd worked together that long and knew each other so little.
"Do you want to make my Christmas miserable or what?"
She regretted the harshness of her words as she saw him draw back.
"We don't get along, Luka," she explained. "I used to spend Christmas with my sister when she wasn't high on something. This year she's going to her husband's family, together with my niece."
"You have a niece?"
"Yeah."
He nodded, a distracted smile playing on the corners of his mouth. She wondered what was he thinking about. Then she remembered Abby saying something about Luka having a brother.
"How about you?"
"How about me what?"
"Nieces? Nephews?"
"Nieces. Two."
"How old?"
"Teenagers," Luka shook his head. "A pain in the ass."
"Really?"
He nodded.
"How come?"
"They had a big time making fun of me three years ago. They hadn't seen me in almost ten years and then the best thing they could think of was to ape my gestures and my accent. It was okay at the start, but after two weeks. . ." He shook his head.
Susan's forehead creased.
"Your accent?"
Luka smiled.
"My American accent."
She stared at him, bewildered.
"I have lived too long in the States, Susan. I have a weird accent when I speak Croatian. Besides, all the day-to-day expressions I use are now outmoded. They are ten years old."
"Really?"
Luka nodded while he saw how a smile crept across Susan's face as her confusion gave way. It wasn't strange she was surprised at knowing he'd picked some American traits. She surely thought about him as what he was for most Americans: the Eastern European. Luka considered the paradox once again: in the States he was the Croat; in Croatia he was the American. A foreigner in both places. He shrugged mentally and had the last bite of his sandwich. He chewed it with relish and gulped down, as he looked at the crumbs on his plate. He pressed some of them with his index and then took it to his mouth as he gathered the courage to phrase the question he had wanted to ask Susan during the last half hour. He breathed in.
"Susan. . ."
She looked up.
"Yeah?"
Her open look made him hesitate. No, she couldn't have sent him the book. She'd been surprised to know he liked reading, and she'd told him she didn't. He believed her. It couldn't have been her. Whoever had sent it, had a knowledge of books and a shrewd sense of what could have been appropriate for him. Kundera's novel, about exile, loneliness and not being able to go back home or rather, to go back in time, had been peculiarly fit to his situation.
Luka had started reading it without too much interest, but after the first few pages he'd been simply absorbed by it. He had read it in a couple of days, and then he had read it once again. It had given him some kind of new insight into his own life. The characters on the story were lonely, and they were all strangers in strange lands, as he was. Some of them were mourning something they'd never get back, just as him, and yet they somehow had managed to come to terms with themselves.
Moreover, that novel had brought him back the keenness to read and, what was more surprising, his ability to concentrate. When he had tried to read another book, namely another novel by Kundera, the one Milan had sent with his father, he'd but eaten it in three days. And then he'd made the attempt with "The Death of Ivan Ilich", and had enjoyed it enormously. Now he was rereading "Doctor Zhivago". Gone were the days in which he'd stare listlessly at the page for hours.
"Luka?"
Susan's eyes were studying him with worry. He got himself together.
"Eh. . . Would you like something else to eat?"
She smiled, but concern didn't fade from her eyes. Luka cursed his clumsiness with words. He should have thought about something less commonplace to ask her. About her niece, maybe?
"No, I'm fine. . ." Susan faltered, and then she gathered enough courage to ask. "Are you all right?"
Luka made an uneasy gesture, as if the question embarrassed him.
"Huh. . . yeah, sure."
She decided not to press it further. They had really had a nice evening, there was no need to ruin it. But now, some kind of awkwardness had sprung up between them, and she didn't know how to get around it. After a strained silence, she took the plates and stood up.
"Let me do the dishes," she said.
"Leave them in the sink. Jack will do them tomorrow."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Yet another advantage of being handicapped?"
He chuckled and nodded. She smiled, relieved.
"All right. I'll profit from that."
She stifled a yawn.
"I guess I'd better start my way home."
Luka glanced at his watch. It was half past eleven. He wondered at how fast time had passed that evening.
"Do you want me to call you a cab?"
"No, I'm driving. I hope my car is still in the same place, though."
"I'm sure it'll be. Now, if you expect it still to be in one piece, that's another story," said Luka with a playful smile as he grabbed his crutches and used the table as a support to stand up.
"I'll walk you to the door."
"No, Luka, really. . ." Susan started to protest.
"Susan. . ." Luka's voice held a mild tone of reproach. "I can still cross my own living room."
"All right, all right," Susan gave up.
When they were out in the living room she remembered her purse and the movie.
"Wait, I have to get my purse," she said and hurried to Luka's room.
When she came out again, he was waiting for her, her coat in his hands. He held it out for her.
"I always knew that there was a gentleman deep inside you," she quipped as she turned around to put the coat on.
Luka adjusted the coat to her shoulders.
"Thank you, Susan," he said. His voice was very quiet and she didn't know if she should take that in earnest, or if it was an answer to her teasing. She decided to keep things in the light mood.
"But very, very deep inside," she quipped.
When she turned around, Luka was smiling. He opened the door for her.
"I really had a nice evening," he said.
"Me too. Hey, shouldn't we try it again some other day?" She suggested and was surprised at the ease in which she had made her proposal. In fact, another evening of movie, popcorn and beer sounded relaxing.
"I'd love to."
Luka's expression was open. He seemed to be saying it in earnest, and not out of a sense of propriety.
"All right, then. I'll call you later in the week."
He nodded.
"Have a good night, Susan."
He stood on the threshold until the doors of the elevator opened. She winked at him. After she disappeared, Luka went into his apartment and closed the door. He wondered if she would call. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he had to admit he wished she would.
"Oh, come on. It's just a short visit," she chided herself as she gathered her purse and the potted plant.
She knew she wasn't particularly worried about the destiny of her wipers or headlights. She'd dropped by Luka's room at the hospital twice, but both times had been kind of awkward. The first time had been easier, though. Luka had been with his father, had introduced them, and then had spent the whole half hour translating from English to Croatian and back as Susan and his father embarked in light-hearted bantering. When Luka had refused to translate some too personal remarks, Pavle had done his best to get Susan to understand him in a broken English, and the three of them had had a good laugh at his attempts.
The second time had been much harder. Luka had been alone and in a sulky mood. Susan's dry wit had brushed over him, and after some uncomfortable minutes she had just fled, feeling guiltier than if she hadn't been there at all.
And now it had been over two weeks since Luka had left the hospital. Susan knew that apart from Carter and Abby, nobody from County had dropped by. They all believed they had fulfilled their duty by visiting him at the hospital. When Susan had asked about him, Abby had voiced her concerns. He was lonely and missed his father and was falling fast into the dark mood he'd been into before travelling to the Congo.
Susan pressed the buzzer, and waited. She was relieved when some minutes passed without any answer. She was about to turn around and head back to her car when a male voice resounded in the device.
"Yes?"
"Luka?"
There was no answer for a while.
"I'm looking for Luka Kovac."
The door buzzed.
"Come in," said the voice.
When she reached Luka's door, there was a tall man standing on the entrance.
"Is this Dr. Kovac's apartment?"
The man nodded.
"And you are. . . " blurted Susan, before she could help herself.
The man held out his hand.
"Jack Tanner. I'm Dr. Kovac's therapist."
She blushed.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to. . . "
"Never mind, It's all right," said the man with a wink. "And you are. . . "
Susan smiled.
"Susan Lewis. I'm one of Luka's. . . of Dr. Kovac's colleagues. I've come. . . you know. . . "
She lifted the plant slightly and smiled.
Jack's smile widened. He opened the door.
"Please come in," he said heartily. "We're in great need of plants."
Susan chuckled as she entered. She glanced around the living room. Luka was not to be seen.
"I thought the place would look like the Amazon jungle by now," she said, leaving the pot on the table by the door.
"Not really," answered Jack as he took her coat.
He looked at her squarely.
"Actually Luka hasn't had many visitors, you know."
Instead of faking surprise, she just nodded.
"Do you think I'll end wearing the plant on my head when I head for the door?" She asked playfully.
"I won't leave it within his reach, I promise."
Susan chuckled again. Jack pointed at the hall, which started right across the living room.
"He's down there. First door to the left."
"Aren't you going to. . . " Susan nodded emphatically towards the hall.
He shook his head.
"What if he doesn't want to see me?"
"It really doesn't matter."
"You'll get fired," she admonished.
"He can't fire me," retorted Jack with a smile. "Dr. Carter hired me, not him."
She rolled her eyes.
"Oh, great. So you're letting me go alone into the lion's den," she sighed, while she crossed the living room.
She knocked on the door and then turned the knob. Luka was lying flat on his back on the bed. He was wearing a sweatshirt and a pair of Cargoes. A funny patterned comforter partly covered his legs.
He rolled his head to see who it was and a gleam flashed briefly in his eyes. Susan tried to spot what it was. Annoyance? Glee? Surprise? She grinned nervously.
"Uh. . . hey."
"Hello, Susan," he answered, his voice emotionless.
He then raised on one elbow and pulled himself up in the bed. He grimaced slightly. Out of a sheer impulse, Susan hurried to prop a pillow behind his back, but she stumbled on a pile of books on the floor. She fell on her knees by the bed, her face very close to Luka's. They were both shocked still for a second. Then she pulled away. She cast a rapid glance at him and then had a look around, embarrassed. When she lowered her sight she spotted the books on the floor.
"Gee, I'm sorry, I hope I haven't damaged any of these. . . " she knelt again and started piling them up. "Why don't you leave them on the nightstand?"
She didn't get an answer. She looked up again and met his gaze. His expression was wary. His eyes bore inquisitively into hers.
"Susan, why did you come?"
His straightforwardness abashed her and left her at a lack for words. She looked down again and started gathering the items from her bag, which were scattered on the floor.
"Uh, eh. . . well. . . I was wondering. . ." She stuttered, while she gathered her mascara and her car keys.
Suddenly she spotted the video she'd rented the day before and she got an idea.
"I was wondering whether you had plans for the evening."
Luka smiled ruefully.
"Yes, I do."
"Do you?"
He sounded so serious she couldn't help wondering what they would be. She darted him another look.
"To stare at the ceiling."
She lifted her eyebrows. Irony was more than evident in his voice but Susan didn't know how to interpret it. Was it directed against her? Against his illness? Against himself?
"I thought you were supposed to be sitting up after all those weeks of lying down. In fact. . ." She remembered what she was going to do when she stumbled down, and reached for the pillow. "I was going to help you with this. . ."
He leant forward so she could stuff the pillow behind his back. He winced a little.
"PT is killing me," he grunted, as he leant back.
Susan smiled. She was pleased to see him accepting her help and noticing they had somehow managed to spring over the first moments of awkwardness. She stood up and got another pillow for him to lean his head on.
"Well, that's what it is supposed to be: a slow and painful death," she said, handing the pillow to him.
She sat on the edge of the bed as he put the pillow behind his own head.
"Thank you, Susan. You give so much comfort."
The ironic undercurrent was still there, but now it was milder, and definitely not directed against her.
"I know, I know. . . "
There was a pause and Susan wondered whether they would be able to keep up the light mood. But he didn't say a word and silence started to get uncomfortable. She sighed.
"Oh, well, since you have such interesting plans I guess watching a movie's not going to compete with them. . . "
"Which movie?"
She tossed him the video she had gathered from the floor. She had in fact watched it the night before, and had been meaning to return it to the video store that same evening, after having stopped by Luka's.
He had a look at it.
"Sense and Sensibility?" He read out loud, disbelievingly.
"I didn't know what kind of movies you like, so I just chose something I would like to see."
"Well, Susan, THAT was very thoughtful of you. . . "
He had another look at the cover.
"Jane Austen. Her novels any good?"
"I wouldn't know," Susan shrugged. "Haven't read any of them."
She had another look at the pile of books.
"In fact, I'd say you would be more likely to have come across a book of hers. . . " And before he had the chance to reply, she added. "I never thought you read so much, Luka."
"Just something I've picked up again lately," he explained warily.
She noticed one lying on the bed by him. There was a slip of paper trapped in its pages, serving as a bookmark. Luka had apparently read three fourths of the book already. She reached for it, and he made a weak movement to stop her, but didn't go all the way through, as if he didn't dare. She noticed it however, and felt she was trespassing. Nonetheless, she had a look at the beautiful golden letters engraved on the cover.
"Doctor Zhivago?"
He nodded.
"Beautiful story," she commented handing the book back to him.
"Have you read it?" He asked in surprise, and she chuckled.
"No, but I've seen the movie. . . " She tilted her head to one side, considering it. "In fact, I've seen two versions of it. There was one filmed in the nineteen sixties, I think, and one that's more recent. I saw it a couple of months ago, by the way. Nice sets."
He shook his head, smiling.
"Hey, what did you expect? I come from the country with the world's biggest film industry."
"India?" Luka cocked one of his eyebrows. "What?"
"I would have never guessed you came from India."
"What?"
"They produce more movies than the States."
"Are you kidding me?"
"No, I'm just playing the idiot savant," quipped Luka.
Susan laughed. There was another pause.
"Bad choice, wasn't it?" Asked Susan with a grimace, stretching out her hand to get the video back. Of course, he wouldn't want to see a period film with her. Where had she got that idea from?
It wasn't just that the film was more of the kind one would rent when one planned a slumber party. Luka had always been reserved about his private life, and they had always had a distant relationship at work. The closest they had come to each other had been rude teasing about their sexual slips over in the ER. He hadn't expected her to come, and he hadn't been particularly pleased to see her. A short visit and a little small talk was all that it was supposed to be. She was figuring out what she could say to him: glad to see you're doing better, hope you join us soon, when he took the video out of the box.
"Why don't you put it in the VCR?" He asked, giving her both the video and the remote control.
Susan stood up and glanced around. The TV and the VCR stood on a rolling stand by the foot of the bed. She turned the VCR on and pushed the movie into the slot.
"I'll check our supplies. There should be some beer in the fridge," he added. "There might be some pop corn too, but I'm not so sure about it. . . "
She heard him rumble around with something, and turned around. He had shoved the comforter to one side and was sitting on the side of the bed. He was trying to get to the crutches, which were leaning against the wall. Susan couldn't help staring at the orthopaedic frame that stuck out from the side of his left leg, through a large opening in his pants. Gee, that must hurt, she thought. She came close to the bed waving her hand dismissively.
"Hey, why don't you let me go to the kitchen and you can get the honour of rewinding the video in the meantime."
But she was a little bit too late. He'd already grabbed the crutches and had stood up. He looked down at her from the advantage of his height.
"Gee, Susan. First you scold me for lying in bed and then you don't want me to get out of it."
"Hey, I'm just suggesting that you SIT UP and stare at the ceiling. Know how much you like that," she retorted.
He grinned and shook his head, but wheeled round and headed for the door, anyway. She tried not to stare as he slowly made his way out. When he had got to the threshold, he looked back at her.
"If you're so eager to help you can get a couple of cushions from the sofa," he suggested.
Susan studied the remote control and pushed the rewind button, and then headed for the living room. She could listen to Luka and Jack talking quietly in the kitchen. She picked up some cushions and a blanket from the sofa and went back to the room. She piled the cushions against the headboard and sat down, on the side that was farthest from the door. She was flickering through the channels when she heard Luka and Jack coming back. They were still talking to each other.
". . . the story about the couch being too low for your leg was but a weak excuse to get girls into your room." Jack was saying. He obviously didn't think she could hear them.
Susan smiled ruefully to herself. As if Luka had ever had trouble getting women into his bedroom, she thought. She made an effort to wipe the smile from her face, since Luka was already standing on the threshold. Luka was carrying a six pack, holding it from the plastic rings with one of his fingers while he manoeuvred with his crutches. Jack held a big bowl of popcorn. Susan leant over in the bed and took the beer from Luka while Jack left the bowl on the nightstand. He helped Luka to sit down and left the crutches where Luka could reach them.
"All right," he said, straightening up again. "So I'll see you tomorrow, Luka. Nice meeting you, Susan."
"Aren't you staying?" Asked Susan, and then she bit her lip.
She hoped her voice hadn't sounded too eager. She was, in fact, not very comfortable with the idea of spending the evening in Luka's company. She had proposed the movie out of an impulse, a feeling that was partly guilt and partly fear of being told she'd dropped by just to ease her own conscience. But now she feared that what she had really done was to prolong an uncomfortable visit.
"I've seen that one already, but thank you. See you tomorrow at eight, then," he added, addressing Luka.
Luka nodded. Jack was about to turn around, when he stopped on his tracks, as if he'd suddenly remembered something important.
"Eh, Susan. . . " he said, turning around. "There are some sandwiches in the fridge. Can you just make sure he eats something before he goes to bed?"
Susan didn't get to answer. Before she could utter the slightest word, and before Jack could duck his head, Luka had thrown him a cushion. Susan decided she liked Jack.
"Well, yeah, I'll try, though I haven't had much practice feeding toddlers, you know. . . " She received a blow from a pillow and giggled. She took a cushion from behind her back and hit Luka back.
Jack watched their battle from the threshold, a smile playing in the corners of his mouth. He hadn't seen Luka so relaxed in the couple of weeks he'd worked for him. He marvelled at what a visit from one of his colleagues could do to raise his spirits. He shook his head.
"Well, that's doctors for you," he commented as if to himself while he picked the cushion from the floor, and threw it back on the bed. He hurried out of the room right before another pillow hit him.
"Good night!" He screamed, making his way through the living room.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
Susan cast Luka an oblique glance as the credits rolled. He was looking at the screen, leaning against the cushions stacked behind him, apparently at ease, as he'd been during the whole movie. She'd been checking on him from time to time, to make sure he wasn't getting bored, but he had seemed to enjoy the film. He rolled his head towards her.
"That was a good movie," he commented, and she was surprised to see the openness of his smile. "Had you seen it before?"
She nodded, as she stopped the movie and turned off the TV. She had to make an effort to stand up and take out the video from the VCR. It was hard to leave the warmth of the blanket she'd tossed over her legs. She padded over to the TV and crouched by it.
"Would you like something to eat? Jack's sandwiches are really good."
She turned around, surprised by the offer. Luka had turned on the reading lamp by the head board and was squinting in the sharp light. The warm smile was still shining on his face. She nodded emphatically.
"All right. Let's go, then," he said, leaning forward.
"Wouldn't you like to stay here? I can bring in the sandwiches," Susan offered.
"We can sit in the kitchen," Luka retorted.
"I thought you wouldn't like to part from your comforter, Linus."
Susan couldn't help alluding to the garment with a mischievous smile. The small white planets, moons and stars on the navy blue background were a bit childish, and made a sharp contrast with the rest of Luka's furniture. She thought that he wouldn't understand the reference to Charlie Brown or that he'd try to answer to her teasing, but he did neither. Instead, his reaction was astonishing. He looked down and his smile turned somewhat sad as he passed the palm of one of his hands over it as if in a slight caress. His eyes were deep with longing when he looked up at her.
"It's kind of a keepsake," he said, very quietly.
Then he cleared his throat, pulling up his defences once again.
"We'll be better in the kitchen. And I don't want you scattering crusts on my bed. . ."
"Oh, come on. . ." Somehow Susan managed to keep up with the bantering. "Do you really believe me capable of . . ."
"Yes, and much, MUCH worse," retorted Luka.
"Come on," he said, as he stood up, got an empty beer can from the night stand and tossed it into the empty popcorn bowl. "You'll have to carry that into the kitchen."
"Do you expect me to clean up after what you've just said?" Asked Susan, her hands on her hips.
Luka winked.
"The only good thing about being an invalid."
"Hm. . . I'm sure you've already found out many other ways of taking advantage of the situation," she retorted, and heard him chuckle as he slowly made his way out of the room.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
"So, how's Chuck doing?" asked Luka out of the blue.
Susan had to gulp down a bite of her sandwich before she answered. They were sitting face to face in Luka's kitchen, around the little table, and had been sharing the food in companionable silence.
"Busy."
"Busy?"
"Night shifts," Susan explained and gave her sandwich another bite.
Luka raised his eyebrows.
"That's something I don't miss from County," he commented.
"When are you coming back?" Asked Susan through a half filled mouth, and was surprised at the fact that it didn't sound like a mere politesse. Their watching a movie together and their sharing supper had already broken the ice barrier she'd thought would be insurmountable.
Luka didn't have to think it over before he answered:
"In nine days."
He had a sip of coke. Susan gawked at him.
"Are you counting the days?"
Luka shook his head, cracking a smile.
"No, not really."
"Gee, I thought you'd gone mad," said Susan, shaking her head. Then she thought it again.
"But that's right before Christmas. . . Aren't you going to take some days off?"
"Me?"
Somehow, Luka seemed astonished at the possibility of taking time off during the holiday season, and only then Susan came to think he usually ended up stuck in the ER during Christmas and New Year. She was astounded to realise that he must have done it on purpose. Moreover, she was stunned by the fact she'd never thought about it during all the years they had worked together.
"Maybe we'll end up covering the ER together during Christmas," She winked.
"Are you on on the 24th?" Asked Luka.
Though he didn't seem bothered by the prospect of working through the holidays, he was dismayed to know Susan would have to do so.
"Yeah. It doesn't matter, though. Chuck is on as well."
"And what about your family?"
Susan smiled wryly. It was incredible they'd worked together that long and knew each other so little.
"Do you want to make my Christmas miserable or what?"
She regretted the harshness of her words as she saw him draw back.
"We don't get along, Luka," she explained. "I used to spend Christmas with my sister when she wasn't high on something. This year she's going to her husband's family, together with my niece."
"You have a niece?"
"Yeah."
He nodded, a distracted smile playing on the corners of his mouth. She wondered what was he thinking about. Then she remembered Abby saying something about Luka having a brother.
"How about you?"
"How about me what?"
"Nieces? Nephews?"
"Nieces. Two."
"How old?"
"Teenagers," Luka shook his head. "A pain in the ass."
"Really?"
He nodded.
"How come?"
"They had a big time making fun of me three years ago. They hadn't seen me in almost ten years and then the best thing they could think of was to ape my gestures and my accent. It was okay at the start, but after two weeks. . ." He shook his head.
Susan's forehead creased.
"Your accent?"
Luka smiled.
"My American accent."
She stared at him, bewildered.
"I have lived too long in the States, Susan. I have a weird accent when I speak Croatian. Besides, all the day-to-day expressions I use are now outmoded. They are ten years old."
"Really?"
Luka nodded while he saw how a smile crept across Susan's face as her confusion gave way. It wasn't strange she was surprised at knowing he'd picked some American traits. She surely thought about him as what he was for most Americans: the Eastern European. Luka considered the paradox once again: in the States he was the Croat; in Croatia he was the American. A foreigner in both places. He shrugged mentally and had the last bite of his sandwich. He chewed it with relish and gulped down, as he looked at the crumbs on his plate. He pressed some of them with his index and then took it to his mouth as he gathered the courage to phrase the question he had wanted to ask Susan during the last half hour. He breathed in.
"Susan. . ."
She looked up.
"Yeah?"
Her open look made him hesitate. No, she couldn't have sent him the book. She'd been surprised to know he liked reading, and she'd told him she didn't. He believed her. It couldn't have been her. Whoever had sent it, had a knowledge of books and a shrewd sense of what could have been appropriate for him. Kundera's novel, about exile, loneliness and not being able to go back home or rather, to go back in time, had been peculiarly fit to his situation.
Luka had started reading it without too much interest, but after the first few pages he'd been simply absorbed by it. He had read it in a couple of days, and then he had read it once again. It had given him some kind of new insight into his own life. The characters on the story were lonely, and they were all strangers in strange lands, as he was. Some of them were mourning something they'd never get back, just as him, and yet they somehow had managed to come to terms with themselves.
Moreover, that novel had brought him back the keenness to read and, what was more surprising, his ability to concentrate. When he had tried to read another book, namely another novel by Kundera, the one Milan had sent with his father, he'd but eaten it in three days. And then he'd made the attempt with "The Death of Ivan Ilich", and had enjoyed it enormously. Now he was rereading "Doctor Zhivago". Gone were the days in which he'd stare listlessly at the page for hours.
"Luka?"
Susan's eyes were studying him with worry. He got himself together.
"Eh. . . Would you like something else to eat?"
She smiled, but concern didn't fade from her eyes. Luka cursed his clumsiness with words. He should have thought about something less commonplace to ask her. About her niece, maybe?
"No, I'm fine. . ." Susan faltered, and then she gathered enough courage to ask. "Are you all right?"
Luka made an uneasy gesture, as if the question embarrassed him.
"Huh. . . yeah, sure."
She decided not to press it further. They had really had a nice evening, there was no need to ruin it. But now, some kind of awkwardness had sprung up between them, and she didn't know how to get around it. After a strained silence, she took the plates and stood up.
"Let me do the dishes," she said.
"Leave them in the sink. Jack will do them tomorrow."
She raised her eyebrows.
"Yet another advantage of being handicapped?"
He chuckled and nodded. She smiled, relieved.
"All right. I'll profit from that."
She stifled a yawn.
"I guess I'd better start my way home."
Luka glanced at his watch. It was half past eleven. He wondered at how fast time had passed that evening.
"Do you want me to call you a cab?"
"No, I'm driving. I hope my car is still in the same place, though."
"I'm sure it'll be. Now, if you expect it still to be in one piece, that's another story," said Luka with a playful smile as he grabbed his crutches and used the table as a support to stand up.
"I'll walk you to the door."
"No, Luka, really. . ." Susan started to protest.
"Susan. . ." Luka's voice held a mild tone of reproach. "I can still cross my own living room."
"All right, all right," Susan gave up.
When they were out in the living room she remembered her purse and the movie.
"Wait, I have to get my purse," she said and hurried to Luka's room.
When she came out again, he was waiting for her, her coat in his hands. He held it out for her.
"I always knew that there was a gentleman deep inside you," she quipped as she turned around to put the coat on.
Luka adjusted the coat to her shoulders.
"Thank you, Susan," he said. His voice was very quiet and she didn't know if she should take that in earnest, or if it was an answer to her teasing. She decided to keep things in the light mood.
"But very, very deep inside," she quipped.
When she turned around, Luka was smiling. He opened the door for her.
"I really had a nice evening," he said.
"Me too. Hey, shouldn't we try it again some other day?" She suggested and was surprised at the ease in which she had made her proposal. In fact, another evening of movie, popcorn and beer sounded relaxing.
"I'd love to."
Luka's expression was open. He seemed to be saying it in earnest, and not out of a sense of propriety.
"All right, then. I'll call you later in the week."
He nodded.
"Have a good night, Susan."
He stood on the threshold until the doors of the elevator opened. She winked at him. After she disappeared, Luka went into his apartment and closed the door. He wondered if she would call. He didn't want to get his hopes up, but he had to admit he wished she would.
