Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters of this story (except for
Luka's father).
Author's notes: Well, it's been a long time since I updated last. Once again thanks to my faithful beta readers Mrs S Eyre and Psychopoet. Your corrections and comments have been really encouraging. I wouldn't have done it this far without you.
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The bell at the door dinged as a customer came in. Shelly was trying to lift a box she'd got earlier that morning, and she didn't look up straightaway. When she got the box to the counter, she cast a quick glance around, but there was nobody in the open space in front of her, where the new releases were displayed on two large tables. Whoever had entered, would have to be at the back of the shop, behind one of the shelves. Well, if the client had found his or her way so fast, it would be one of the regulars who already knew the place by heart and wouldn't need her help.
She took the pocket knife and started cutting the tape on the box. Suddenly, the knife hit against a staple in the box and her hand slid over the blade. She cursed as she looked at the deep gash on her right thumb. Great. Just what she needed. She held her injured finger in her other hand to stop the blood and made her way around the counter and towards the little bathroom at the back of the shop. In her hurry, she bumped against a woman who was crouching in front of one of the shelves, looking at the titles. The woman fell to her side, letting out the beginning of a very familiar word. Shelly felt her cheeks burn.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Shelly excused herself. "I didn't see you. Are you all right?"
She would have loved to reach out her hand to pull the woman up, but was afraid she would stain everything if she let go of her thumb. The woman stood up, wiping her hands and smiled tentatively. She'd blushed too.
"It's nothing," she said.
Shelly knew that face, but she couldn't place it straightaway.
"I'm sorry I bumped into you this way. I really have to get to the back of the store. . ." she said.
The woman made space for her, but soon spotted her hands.
"Did you hurt yourself?" She asked in obvious concern.
"Oh, it's nothing. I cut myself with a pocket knife."
"Maybe I can help? I'm a nurse."
"No, not really," replied Shelly, making her way into the bathroom. "It's no big deal."
"Okay. But tell me if you can't stop the bleeding."
"Thank you," answered Shelly as she opened the tap and put her hand under the water.
As she washed the cut, she suddenly remembered the woman. She was the one who'd bought the Kundera novel for the shy, foreign guy who'd dropped by a couple of weeks ago. The woman had spent a good two hours in the shop trying to make up her mind. Well, it seemed her pains at choosing the right novel had turned out to be fruitful. Shelly still remembered the earnest look in the man's eyes when he'd told her he'd liked it. As she wiped her hands and wrapped the injured finger in some toilet paper Shelly wondered whether he'd found out it was her who'd sent it and had been able to thank her. Maybe she'd told him. Or maybe she didn't want him to know she had sent it? She went out of the bathroom. The woman was still standing in front of the same shelf, and moved to make space for her.
"How did it go?"
"Very well, thank you. I think the blood has stopped."
The woman nodded and focused on the shelf once again. Shelly sensed it would be best if she just left her alone, so she went back to the counter and to her box.
She had managed to empty the box single handed and had begun entering the titles in the database when the woman came up to the counter with a couple of books in her hands.
"I think I'll take these," she said, with an almost apologetic smile.
Shelly smiled back, as she thought those two looked somewhat tentative. Well, maybe the man's shyness was a bit more pronounced, but still it was a common trait between them.
"Okay," said Shelly, taking the books and passing the bar code under the bar code reader.
One of them was a cheap paperback, the other one was a more expensive edition. She brushed over both titles.
"Thirty four twenty."
The woman took her wallet out of her purse while Shelly pulled out a paper bag from one of the drawers in the counter.
"Huh. . . Could you . . . Could you wrap that one as a gift?" Asked the woman pointing at the more expensive book. A book of stories by Italo Calvino.
"Sure."
Shelly opened another drawer where they held the gift paper marked with the logo of the shop, but then she changed her mind. They had some beautiful wrapping papers on sale. She turned around, got a couple of sheets and spread them on the counter. She didn't stamp the bookshop's seal on the first page. Instead she picked up a nice bookmark from the ones they had on display and put it between the first pages. Then she deftly wrapped the book and tied the package with a green ribbon. She put both books in a bag and handed them to the woman.
"So, how much will that be?"
"Thirty four twenty," Shelly answered.
The woman looked up from her wallet.
"But what about the wrapping paper and bookmark?"
Shelly smiled and winked.
"Courtesy of the house."
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
Luka turned his head around swiftly. His face lit up when he saw her. He seemed like a small child about to be given some candy.
"I never thought I'd have that effect on you," commented Susan with a naughty smile, trying to hide her relief at seeing his reaction.
It was the third time she dropped by Luka's apartment, and this time she had taken the liberty of not calling in advance to ask him if she could come over. In fact, she hadn't thought she would be spending the evening at Luka's, but when Jing-Mei cried off their girls' evening to have dinner with Pratt and Abby had got stuck in the ER, she had decided Luka's was her best choice for a nice and quiet evening. She had stopped by the video store and got the movies, had bought microwave popcorn and chips and had found herself by the door of the building before she thought it over.
"It's not you. It's the movie," Luka quipped. "Your choice is always the best. . . "
"I know, I know. . . " Replied Susan, shaking her head.
The undertone of irony was clear in Luka's voice, and she was expecting to listen to what he'd come up with next. Last time they had discussed movies long and heatedly. Although both of them liked period films, their preferences differed in every other genre. Luka liked European films best, and he'd spoken about a load Susan hadn't seen. The few titles he'd talked about and which she had recognised, she remembered as being slow and boring. And, of course, he'd scoffed over her love for science-fiction films. He'd boasted the two best science-fiction films, the only ones worth seeing, had been made by a Russian guy back over in the nineteen seventies. Susan had decided he couldn't get away with that. Okay, she would watch the films he had named, but he would also have to go through her own favourites, she had told him. To her surprise, he had given in almost immediately, albeit feigning resignation.
"Your choices make my brain stop functioning. They're better than a sleeping pill. . . "
Susan growled.
"Oh, come on. You've only seen two of them. Do you always have to pose as the intellectually refined European?"
Luka shrugged, and they both chuckled. Susan plopped down on the bed beside him.
"What did you bring this time?"
She showed him the box. He frowned.
"Star Wars?"
She nodded emphatically.
"But Susan, you really can't expect. . . "
"Of course I expect you to watch it with me. It's a classic. And it was a landmark for our generation. Really, Luka, that is an inexcusable blank in your cultural background. It's time you do something about it."
Luka ran a hand through his hair.
"But Susan, I told you. . . "
"What you saw was the FIFTH part of the saga, Luka," she interrupted. "This one is the FIRST movie and, believe me, the first three are the best."
"The first THREE?" He faked a horrified expression as she saw her fish two other boxes from her purse. "Oh no. . . "
"Oh, yes."
He looked around as if trying to find a way out. He frowned when he saw Jack leaning on the threshold, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Don't tell me you're part of this scheme."
"Of course I am. I grew up with Star Wars. I'm here to make sure you don't leave the room," answered Jack with a wink.
"Jesus," mumbled Luka under his breath.
"Hey, I didn't know you were a religious man. . . " said Susan, standing up and putting the first video in the VCR. "Pop corn?"
"I'm going to need it to survive this. . . " muttered Luka, but neither Susan nor Jack heard him, because they were already on their way to the kitchen.
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"Zhivago!" Carter's roar resounded in the whole apartment as he unlocked the door.
Susan jumped up in the bed and then cast an amused look at Luka, who blushed and sagged deeper against the pillows that held him up. She raised her eyebrows.
"Zhivago?" She asked.
Luka didn't look at her.
"Over here!" He shouted, and then fixed his sight on the TV screen, slowly turning a deep shade of crimson.
Susan couldn't help a grin.
". . . place looked so empty I thought you'd walked out on me. . ."
They could listen to Carter's voice getting louder as he got close to the room. He stopped dead on his tracks when he spotted Susan sitting on the bed, by Luka. It took him a while to gather himself. The last person he had expected to see comfortably reclined in Luka's bed was Susan. She seemed completely at home. Had she been visiting?
"Oh. . . Hi, Susan," he stuttered.
A brief and awkward silence followed. Carter seemed unable to overcome his bewilderment. Luka paused the video and looked at him with a wary look in his eyes. Susan wanted to answer with something more than a mere 'Hi' to dispel the awkwardness, but she couldn't come up with anything, and then it hit her.
"Surprised?"
Carter was stunned at that.
"Uh. . ."
Luka grinned.
"You can close your mouth now, Carter," he said, and Susan felt a heavy weight lifting from her shoulders.
Fortunately, he had taken the whole situation lightly. They were but laying the foundations of a friendship, and Susan was acutely aware of the fact that Luka could, and probably would, back off and lock her out if he had the slightest impression she was visiting out of a sense of duty. Which she wasn't, by the way. She tried to figure out something else to say. Unfortunately, her wit abandoned her, so the best she could come up with was:
"No, just keep it open. It's an interesting sight."
Carter endured being made the laughing stock as he fidgeted with his keys. He then wiped his forehead with his hand, tiredly. It had been a long and busy shift and he wasn't feeling particularly fit to start a bantering round. He cast a glance at the screen.
"You watching a video?"
The two of them nodded simultaneously, and Carter couldn't help an amused smile.
"What is it?"
"The Return of the Jedi," Susan answered.
"What?"
Now Carter was completely dumbfounded.
"Return of the Jedi." Luka repeated.
Carter cast Susan an astonished look.
"Did you get him to see Star Wars?"
Susan nodded, a proud smile on her face.
"How on earth did you do that?"
Now Luka was fidgeting with the remote control. It was his turn to being turned into the laughing stock. Susan just raised her eyebrows.
"My secret."
Carter shook his head. Then he spotted the cans on the nightstand.
"Is there any coke left?" He asked, pulling up a chair to the side of the bed.
"In the fridge," said Luka and stopped the VCR.
"No, don't rewind it," Carter said before going out. "I can take up from where you are."
There was no way Luka was going to discuss that.
After a moment, Carter came back with his can and sat down. Luka started the film again, and then he felt Carter poking his arm.
"Hand me those."
He reached out over the bed and gave Carter the bowl of chips.
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The credits rolled on the screen while both Carter and Susan hummed along the musical theme. Luka sighed. They had gone through the whole thing with a couple of bowls of pop corn, chips and lots of coke, and it hadn't been all that bad. He had in fact enjoyed the simple story and the special effects. They were primitive, but that was what he'd liked about them. But of course, he wasn't going to admit that in front of Susan. She'd rub it in his face at every opportunity for the next fifty years if he did. And Carter had obviously also grown up with Star Wars, so Susan had another ally there. After watching the first movie with them, Jack had leant the crutches way out of Luka's reach to ensure he stayed in bed, before heading home. Luka just didn't need Carter siding up with them.
Luka waited a little until most of the credits had passed and then yawned exaggeratedly and rubbed his eyes.
"Is it already over?" He asked, innocently.
Susan and Carter gave him a reproachful look.
"Aren't you hungry? How about ordering something?"
Carter's look turned from mock reproach into astonishment, and Luka couldn't help grinning at that. Carter had dropped by often after Luka had been released from the hospital, but he had always been careful to make his visits short, not wanting to intrude on Luka's privacy. Luka had appreciated the gesture, and since he hadn't felt like having people around the first weeks, he had never made any effort to make Carter stay a bit longer. But somehow, all that had changed in the course of the past week. That night, he was enjoying Carter's and Susan's company and he hoped they'd stay a bit longer for a friendly chat. And since they were both in his house now, he could just prove to them he was an acceptable host.
"Do you like Thai food, Susan?" He asked, purportedly ignoring Carter.
"Anything that's got some meat in it."
"Do you think we could get something from your Thai place or is it too late?" Luka asked, looking at Carter, and relishing Carter's bewilderment. He knew Carter wouldn't think he'd noticed the relish with which he'd had eaten the food he'd brought over a couple of weeks ago.
"I don't know whether they make deliveries to this part of town."
"They do," Luka asserted with conviction, and enjoyed Carter's bewilderment a bit longer.
He cast aside the comforter, turned around and nodded towards the crutches, which were stacked right behind Carter. Carter gave them to him and made room so Luka could stand up. Luka cast a look over his shoulder and grimaced at Susan.
"Come on, sleepyhead. You'll have to choose what you want to eat."
He took the cordless phone, shoved it into one of his pockets and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Carter wondered as Luka went out.
"To the kitchen," Luka answered without turning around. "The menu's on the fridge."
Susan cocked her eyebrow.
"Well, I guess we'll have to clean up after him," she said picking up the empty bowls.
Carter shook his head and sighed.
"As always. . ."
"Don't worry, Carter, we'll take revenge when he gets off those crutches."
"I heard that!" Luka shouted from down the hall.
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Luka had scribbled down Carter's and Susan's choices and had turned on the telephone when Carter began stuttering.
"Uh. . . eh. . . Luka, I. . ."
Luka turned off the phone and watched Carter quietly.
"You wouldn't mind if Abby dropped by, would you?"
Carter's question was so wary it worried Susan. Weren't Carter and Luka supposed to have turned into good friends after coming back from the Congo? Geez, Carter even called Luka Zhivago and didn't even get an ugly stare for that. Why was he suddenly asking Luka if he could bring his girlfriend over? Suddenly, Susan realised the magnitude of the defences that Luka had built around him to prevent people from coming closer. She waited expectantly to see what Luka's reaction would be. At first, his look seemed guarded, but then, slowly, a smile crept over his face.
"Are you throwing a brick party in my house without telling me?" He asked in mock offence.
He didn't understand why Susan and Carter burst out in laughter. His joke couldn't possibly have been as good as that.
"It's a BLOCK party, Luka" Susan explained when their laughter had receded.
"Whatever. I knew it had something to do with rectangles of some sort."
He had to wait a bit until their second roar subsided.
"So, when's she coming over? Do you have an idea of what she'd like to eat?"
"Hm. . . Let me see. . ." Said Carter as he studied the menu.
A few minutes later, Luka had placed the call and they had moved into the living room. Susan was looking over Luka's collection of CD's while Carter let himself fall on the couch and let his head rest back.
"Now, now. Don't fall asleep," Luka warned.
He got no reaction from Carter. He slowly sank into one of the armchairs with a groan. Immediately, Carter's head propped up and his eyes flew open.
"Did that hurt?"
Luka wrinkled his nose, embarrassed. He darted a glance at Susan, who was apparently immersed in her study of his slim music collection. He shook his head, and tried a nonchalant tone.
"My father's right. These chairs are just too low."
"How's he doing?"
"Fine. Worried. He sends his regards."
"Worried? About what?"
"Christmas."
Susan heard Luka's cryptic answer as she put the CD into the CD player and hit the play button.
"How come your father's worried about Christmas?" She asked as she sat on the armchair opposite to Luka's.
"He's spending Christmas at my brother's. . ."
Luka made a pause. His forehead creased, and for an instant, Carter became really worried. Could it be something about the war that made Christmas a particularly painful time of the year for Luka's family? Suddenly, Luka spoke again.
"Would you like some wine? I'd bet there's a bottle of white wine somewhere."
Carter looked at him intently. Was Luka diverting the conversation? Then Luka smiled, realising his explanation had been left halfway through.
"My nieces are two hyperactive teenagers and they adore their grandfather. Whenever he goes to visit they're all over him."
Carter smiled in relief and stood up.
"Well, your father survived the firing squad, Luka. I'm sure he'll survive anything. Where's that bottle of wine now?"
He rummaged in the kitchen as he heard Susan drag a description of his nieces and sister-in-law out of Luka. He came back carrying the bottle and three glasses, and he handed the bottle and corkscrew to Luka, while he set the glasses on the coffee table. Susan was engaged in a story about little Susie and the Christmas tree. Luka smiled politely as she finished the story and he pulled the cork out of the bottle. Carter could have sworn there was an indefinable sadness around his eyes. Christmas stories about small children was maybe not such a good idea. But then he noticed the nostalgic look in Susan's eyes as soon as she stopped laughing and he came to think both Susan and Luka had something in common there.
"So, did you think it over?" He asked, suddenly.
Luka had a sip of his wine, a slightly annoyed smile curving his lips.
"Uh huh. . ."
"And?"
"I'll be working, Carter. But thanks."
"Have you talked to Romano?"
Luka nodded.
"He called this morning. We have an appointment tomorrow."
"So you still don't know."
"Carter. I'll be working."
"Hey, would you mind? I'm still in the room, you know," Susan complained.
Both of them smiled at her sheepishly.
"Carter's invited me over for Christmas." Luka explained, trying to sound nonchalant.
"And he's trying to find every lame excuse he can figure out to wriggle out of it," Carter finished.
Luka glared rays and thunderstorms at Carter. Susan couldn't help a muffled giggle. Then the doorbell rang, and Carter sprung to his feet. Luka made his best attempt to stand up too, since he was determined to pay for the meal and knew that if Carter got first to the door he would pay for it and then brush him off. He didn't have much luck however. He couldn't manage to gather enough momentum to get his weight on his feet and sank back in the chair. He reddened when he noticed Susan was staring at him worriedly.
"Do me a favour, Susan," he said, fishing his wallet from a side pocket and tossing it to her. "Don't let Carter pay."
Susan grabbed Luka's wallet with a deft movement, and then Luka heard Abby's voice.
"And what should Carter pay me for? Hey, Susan."
Susan answered Abby's greeting with a wink, while Luka clumsily turned around in the chair to look at Abby.
"Hey, Luka."
"Hey. . . " He desperately tried to find something to say. "Would you like some. . ." He stopped halfway through his sentence, suddenly realising he had been about to offer Abby the wine they were sharing. "Something to drink?" He smiled, hoping his pause had gone unnoticed.
If she had noticed his hesitation, she didn't show any signs. She nodded.
"Perrier would be fine."
"I'll bring it," said Carter, crossing the living room.
"So, you finally slipped out of the ER?" asked Susan, and Luka was grateful she picked up the thread of the conversation.
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Luka tossed and turned in bed. He peered at the alarm clock on the nightstand: almost 3 am. Admitting to himself there was no point in alternately staring at the shadows on the wall and the shadows on the ceiling, he turned on the reading lamp. He pulled himself up, then grabbed a couple of pillows and stacked them behind his back. He cast a look at the books on the nightstand. There was a small selection of them. In the last week, he hadn't been reading just one book as he'd done during the first days he had been able to concentrate. Now he had started on several at the same time and alternated among them. He wasn't sure whether that meant that his concentration and eagerness to read had increased, or whether it was just the opposite.
He picked up the one that was on top of the pile, opened it and had a look at the beautiful bookmark. It had come inside the book, some days ago. Again, there hadn't been any name of sender, no return address, no card, no inscription. And this time, the book hadn't even borne a trace of where it had been bought. When he had opened the outer envelope, after carefully studying the stamps, Luka had opened the gift paper with care, had stared at the bookmark for a while and then, before starting to read the book, he had carefully smoothed down the wrapping paper, had doubled it and had put it in a drawer. Afterwards, he had wondered at what he had done. It had been a very long time since he had last treasured anything. In fact, for many years he had lived only with the most basic things. He had learnt, from painful experience, that everything on earth was disposable, so he hadn't wanted to own anything. There was no point in getting attached. The only thing he had carried along from the time before the war had been the picture of Danijela and Jasna.
He sighed, realising he hadn't understood the first paragraph of the story, and started once again. He had liked the few stories he had read until now, but this book hadn't caught his attention as forcefully as the one by Kundera. Maybe it was because it was a collection of short stories and not a novel. He had always liked novels best. He enjoyed how the story and the characters had time and space to develop. He knew that part of the charm of short stories was the tight construction, the exact fitting of the pieces, but he couldn't help feeling cheated when he suddenly came to the end of them. He always had the feeling there was always something left out, something missing.
Luka looked up at the window, where the faint light of the street slipped through the half closed blinds. He took a deep breath. Once again, he had failed to grasp what he had just read. He looked down and read the first words on the page, which by now had gained an annoying familiar ring. 'The shores of the small island were rocky, abrupt. On top of them grew the short, dense vegetation. . .' Rocky shores, dense vegetation. Like the small inhabited island just across the strait a few kilometres from his grandfather's farm. God, he missed the sea. But no, he didn't just miss the sea. He had lived a couple of years in San Francisco some time ago, and still there, by the Pacific Ocean, he'd felt the same yearning as he felt now in Chicago. What he really missed was the part of the coast he had grown up close to. There were no words to describe how much he missed it, how much he longed, and feared, to go back there.
'I know what you mean,' Susan had said that evening, when they'd been discussing home and not being able to go back to it. She had told him about a tree in the backyard of her grandparent's house. It had always been her favourite hiding place whenever her father and grandfather engaged in a heated argument in any of the family celebrations. The tree had been cut down when she had been thirteen, and since then she had always felt in the open and unprotected whenever she had been forced to go to family gatherings.
Luka wasn't certain Susan understood him, despite her efforts at connecting. It wasn't just that he feared being in the open if he came back, his emotions bare and too raw to master. It was rather that he feared he had lost the emotions, the memories. He had changed, as much as the place itself had changed. Too many years of running away from himself and evading meaningful human relationships had emptied him to a point in which he wondered whether he would ever be able to be near someone again, to reconnect with someone at a personal level.
Some of the things that had happened this evening seemed to prove his fears right. Although he had to admit he had liked having Abby, Susan and Carter around, and had enjoyed their light conversation and teasing, he had also felt that there was a gulf between him and the three of them, a breach which he just didn't know how to close. Or maybe it wasn't just him, maybe they weren't willing to close the gap themselves. He had sensed how they all trod carefully around him. He had seen the wariness and doubt in their eyes. Well, he had certainly given them reasons for being on their guard. He hadn't been the gentlest or friendliest man before he travelled to the Congo. . . He shrank at the bitter sentiments that were involuntarily creeping back to him. He tried to push the thoughts away.
He stared fixedly at the page, but by then he knew that trying to read the book was an exercise in futility, and so was trying to sleep. He put the book back on the nightstand, shoved the covers away and grabbed the crutches. He shuddered a bit when his feet touched the cold floor. The air was chilly. He never set the heating too high, like people were used to here in America, because he just couldn't get used to the high room temperatures. He smiled when he remembered both Abby and Susan had complained of being cold that evening, and had stared incredulously at him when he had suggested them he could lend them a sweater. . .
Luka leant over to grab his clothes which were lying at the foot of the bed and slowly put on his pants and sweatshirt. He shoved his feet in the slippers. The alarm clock stood at 4.35. Luka stood up. Well, if he wasn't going to sleep anymore, he'd better make himself a cup of coffee. He had to meet Romano later that day. It would be better if he were at least partially alert.
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Author's notes: Well, it's been a long time since I updated last. Once again thanks to my faithful beta readers Mrs S Eyre and Psychopoet. Your corrections and comments have been really encouraging. I wouldn't have done it this far without you.
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The bell at the door dinged as a customer came in. Shelly was trying to lift a box she'd got earlier that morning, and she didn't look up straightaway. When she got the box to the counter, she cast a quick glance around, but there was nobody in the open space in front of her, where the new releases were displayed on two large tables. Whoever had entered, would have to be at the back of the shop, behind one of the shelves. Well, if the client had found his or her way so fast, it would be one of the regulars who already knew the place by heart and wouldn't need her help.
She took the pocket knife and started cutting the tape on the box. Suddenly, the knife hit against a staple in the box and her hand slid over the blade. She cursed as she looked at the deep gash on her right thumb. Great. Just what she needed. She held her injured finger in her other hand to stop the blood and made her way around the counter and towards the little bathroom at the back of the shop. In her hurry, she bumped against a woman who was crouching in front of one of the shelves, looking at the titles. The woman fell to her side, letting out the beginning of a very familiar word. Shelly felt her cheeks burn.
"Oh, I'm sorry," Shelly excused herself. "I didn't see you. Are you all right?"
She would have loved to reach out her hand to pull the woman up, but was afraid she would stain everything if she let go of her thumb. The woman stood up, wiping her hands and smiled tentatively. She'd blushed too.
"It's nothing," she said.
Shelly knew that face, but she couldn't place it straightaway.
"I'm sorry I bumped into you this way. I really have to get to the back of the store. . ." she said.
The woman made space for her, but soon spotted her hands.
"Did you hurt yourself?" She asked in obvious concern.
"Oh, it's nothing. I cut myself with a pocket knife."
"Maybe I can help? I'm a nurse."
"No, not really," replied Shelly, making her way into the bathroom. "It's no big deal."
"Okay. But tell me if you can't stop the bleeding."
"Thank you," answered Shelly as she opened the tap and put her hand under the water.
As she washed the cut, she suddenly remembered the woman. She was the one who'd bought the Kundera novel for the shy, foreign guy who'd dropped by a couple of weeks ago. The woman had spent a good two hours in the shop trying to make up her mind. Well, it seemed her pains at choosing the right novel had turned out to be fruitful. Shelly still remembered the earnest look in the man's eyes when he'd told her he'd liked it. As she wiped her hands and wrapped the injured finger in some toilet paper Shelly wondered whether he'd found out it was her who'd sent it and had been able to thank her. Maybe she'd told him. Or maybe she didn't want him to know she had sent it? She went out of the bathroom. The woman was still standing in front of the same shelf, and moved to make space for her.
"How did it go?"
"Very well, thank you. I think the blood has stopped."
The woman nodded and focused on the shelf once again. Shelly sensed it would be best if she just left her alone, so she went back to the counter and to her box.
She had managed to empty the box single handed and had begun entering the titles in the database when the woman came up to the counter with a couple of books in her hands.
"I think I'll take these," she said, with an almost apologetic smile.
Shelly smiled back, as she thought those two looked somewhat tentative. Well, maybe the man's shyness was a bit more pronounced, but still it was a common trait between them.
"Okay," said Shelly, taking the books and passing the bar code under the bar code reader.
One of them was a cheap paperback, the other one was a more expensive edition. She brushed over both titles.
"Thirty four twenty."
The woman took her wallet out of her purse while Shelly pulled out a paper bag from one of the drawers in the counter.
"Huh. . . Could you . . . Could you wrap that one as a gift?" Asked the woman pointing at the more expensive book. A book of stories by Italo Calvino.
"Sure."
Shelly opened another drawer where they held the gift paper marked with the logo of the shop, but then she changed her mind. They had some beautiful wrapping papers on sale. She turned around, got a couple of sheets and spread them on the counter. She didn't stamp the bookshop's seal on the first page. Instead she picked up a nice bookmark from the ones they had on display and put it between the first pages. Then she deftly wrapped the book and tied the package with a green ribbon. She put both books in a bag and handed them to the woman.
"So, how much will that be?"
"Thirty four twenty," Shelly answered.
The woman looked up from her wallet.
"But what about the wrapping paper and bookmark?"
Shelly smiled and winked.
"Courtesy of the house."
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
Luka turned his head around swiftly. His face lit up when he saw her. He seemed like a small child about to be given some candy.
"I never thought I'd have that effect on you," commented Susan with a naughty smile, trying to hide her relief at seeing his reaction.
It was the third time she dropped by Luka's apartment, and this time she had taken the liberty of not calling in advance to ask him if she could come over. In fact, she hadn't thought she would be spending the evening at Luka's, but when Jing-Mei cried off their girls' evening to have dinner with Pratt and Abby had got stuck in the ER, she had decided Luka's was her best choice for a nice and quiet evening. She had stopped by the video store and got the movies, had bought microwave popcorn and chips and had found herself by the door of the building before she thought it over.
"It's not you. It's the movie," Luka quipped. "Your choice is always the best. . . "
"I know, I know. . . " Replied Susan, shaking her head.
The undertone of irony was clear in Luka's voice, and she was expecting to listen to what he'd come up with next. Last time they had discussed movies long and heatedly. Although both of them liked period films, their preferences differed in every other genre. Luka liked European films best, and he'd spoken about a load Susan hadn't seen. The few titles he'd talked about and which she had recognised, she remembered as being slow and boring. And, of course, he'd scoffed over her love for science-fiction films. He'd boasted the two best science-fiction films, the only ones worth seeing, had been made by a Russian guy back over in the nineteen seventies. Susan had decided he couldn't get away with that. Okay, she would watch the films he had named, but he would also have to go through her own favourites, she had told him. To her surprise, he had given in almost immediately, albeit feigning resignation.
"Your choices make my brain stop functioning. They're better than a sleeping pill. . . "
Susan growled.
"Oh, come on. You've only seen two of them. Do you always have to pose as the intellectually refined European?"
Luka shrugged, and they both chuckled. Susan plopped down on the bed beside him.
"What did you bring this time?"
She showed him the box. He frowned.
"Star Wars?"
She nodded emphatically.
"But Susan, you really can't expect. . . "
"Of course I expect you to watch it with me. It's a classic. And it was a landmark for our generation. Really, Luka, that is an inexcusable blank in your cultural background. It's time you do something about it."
Luka ran a hand through his hair.
"But Susan, I told you. . . "
"What you saw was the FIFTH part of the saga, Luka," she interrupted. "This one is the FIRST movie and, believe me, the first three are the best."
"The first THREE?" He faked a horrified expression as she saw her fish two other boxes from her purse. "Oh no. . . "
"Oh, yes."
He looked around as if trying to find a way out. He frowned when he saw Jack leaning on the threshold, his arms crossed over his chest.
"Don't tell me you're part of this scheme."
"Of course I am. I grew up with Star Wars. I'm here to make sure you don't leave the room," answered Jack with a wink.
"Jesus," mumbled Luka under his breath.
"Hey, I didn't know you were a religious man. . . " said Susan, standing up and putting the first video in the VCR. "Pop corn?"
"I'm going to need it to survive this. . . " muttered Luka, but neither Susan nor Jack heard him, because they were already on their way to the kitchen.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
"Zhivago!" Carter's roar resounded in the whole apartment as he unlocked the door.
Susan jumped up in the bed and then cast an amused look at Luka, who blushed and sagged deeper against the pillows that held him up. She raised her eyebrows.
"Zhivago?" She asked.
Luka didn't look at her.
"Over here!" He shouted, and then fixed his sight on the TV screen, slowly turning a deep shade of crimson.
Susan couldn't help a grin.
". . . place looked so empty I thought you'd walked out on me. . ."
They could listen to Carter's voice getting louder as he got close to the room. He stopped dead on his tracks when he spotted Susan sitting on the bed, by Luka. It took him a while to gather himself. The last person he had expected to see comfortably reclined in Luka's bed was Susan. She seemed completely at home. Had she been visiting?
"Oh. . . Hi, Susan," he stuttered.
A brief and awkward silence followed. Carter seemed unable to overcome his bewilderment. Luka paused the video and looked at him with a wary look in his eyes. Susan wanted to answer with something more than a mere 'Hi' to dispel the awkwardness, but she couldn't come up with anything, and then it hit her.
"Surprised?"
Carter was stunned at that.
"Uh. . ."
Luka grinned.
"You can close your mouth now, Carter," he said, and Susan felt a heavy weight lifting from her shoulders.
Fortunately, he had taken the whole situation lightly. They were but laying the foundations of a friendship, and Susan was acutely aware of the fact that Luka could, and probably would, back off and lock her out if he had the slightest impression she was visiting out of a sense of duty. Which she wasn't, by the way. She tried to figure out something else to say. Unfortunately, her wit abandoned her, so the best she could come up with was:
"No, just keep it open. It's an interesting sight."
Carter endured being made the laughing stock as he fidgeted with his keys. He then wiped his forehead with his hand, tiredly. It had been a long and busy shift and he wasn't feeling particularly fit to start a bantering round. He cast a glance at the screen.
"You watching a video?"
The two of them nodded simultaneously, and Carter couldn't help an amused smile.
"What is it?"
"The Return of the Jedi," Susan answered.
"What?"
Now Carter was completely dumbfounded.
"Return of the Jedi." Luka repeated.
Carter cast Susan an astonished look.
"Did you get him to see Star Wars?"
Susan nodded, a proud smile on her face.
"How on earth did you do that?"
Now Luka was fidgeting with the remote control. It was his turn to being turned into the laughing stock. Susan just raised her eyebrows.
"My secret."
Carter shook his head. Then he spotted the cans on the nightstand.
"Is there any coke left?" He asked, pulling up a chair to the side of the bed.
"In the fridge," said Luka and stopped the VCR.
"No, don't rewind it," Carter said before going out. "I can take up from where you are."
There was no way Luka was going to discuss that.
After a moment, Carter came back with his can and sat down. Luka started the film again, and then he felt Carter poking his arm.
"Hand me those."
He reached out over the bed and gave Carter the bowl of chips.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
The credits rolled on the screen while both Carter and Susan hummed along the musical theme. Luka sighed. They had gone through the whole thing with a couple of bowls of pop corn, chips and lots of coke, and it hadn't been all that bad. He had in fact enjoyed the simple story and the special effects. They were primitive, but that was what he'd liked about them. But of course, he wasn't going to admit that in front of Susan. She'd rub it in his face at every opportunity for the next fifty years if he did. And Carter had obviously also grown up with Star Wars, so Susan had another ally there. After watching the first movie with them, Jack had leant the crutches way out of Luka's reach to ensure he stayed in bed, before heading home. Luka just didn't need Carter siding up with them.
Luka waited a little until most of the credits had passed and then yawned exaggeratedly and rubbed his eyes.
"Is it already over?" He asked, innocently.
Susan and Carter gave him a reproachful look.
"Aren't you hungry? How about ordering something?"
Carter's look turned from mock reproach into astonishment, and Luka couldn't help grinning at that. Carter had dropped by often after Luka had been released from the hospital, but he had always been careful to make his visits short, not wanting to intrude on Luka's privacy. Luka had appreciated the gesture, and since he hadn't felt like having people around the first weeks, he had never made any effort to make Carter stay a bit longer. But somehow, all that had changed in the course of the past week. That night, he was enjoying Carter's and Susan's company and he hoped they'd stay a bit longer for a friendly chat. And since they were both in his house now, he could just prove to them he was an acceptable host.
"Do you like Thai food, Susan?" He asked, purportedly ignoring Carter.
"Anything that's got some meat in it."
"Do you think we could get something from your Thai place or is it too late?" Luka asked, looking at Carter, and relishing Carter's bewilderment. He knew Carter wouldn't think he'd noticed the relish with which he'd had eaten the food he'd brought over a couple of weeks ago.
"I don't know whether they make deliveries to this part of town."
"They do," Luka asserted with conviction, and enjoyed Carter's bewilderment a bit longer.
He cast aside the comforter, turned around and nodded towards the crutches, which were stacked right behind Carter. Carter gave them to him and made room so Luka could stand up. Luka cast a look over his shoulder and grimaced at Susan.
"Come on, sleepyhead. You'll have to choose what you want to eat."
He took the cordless phone, shoved it into one of his pockets and stood up.
"Where are you going?" Carter wondered as Luka went out.
"To the kitchen," Luka answered without turning around. "The menu's on the fridge."
Susan cocked her eyebrow.
"Well, I guess we'll have to clean up after him," she said picking up the empty bowls.
Carter shook his head and sighed.
"As always. . ."
"Don't worry, Carter, we'll take revenge when he gets off those crutches."
"I heard that!" Luka shouted from down the hall.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
Luka had scribbled down Carter's and Susan's choices and had turned on the telephone when Carter began stuttering.
"Uh. . . eh. . . Luka, I. . ."
Luka turned off the phone and watched Carter quietly.
"You wouldn't mind if Abby dropped by, would you?"
Carter's question was so wary it worried Susan. Weren't Carter and Luka supposed to have turned into good friends after coming back from the Congo? Geez, Carter even called Luka Zhivago and didn't even get an ugly stare for that. Why was he suddenly asking Luka if he could bring his girlfriend over? Suddenly, Susan realised the magnitude of the defences that Luka had built around him to prevent people from coming closer. She waited expectantly to see what Luka's reaction would be. At first, his look seemed guarded, but then, slowly, a smile crept over his face.
"Are you throwing a brick party in my house without telling me?" He asked in mock offence.
He didn't understand why Susan and Carter burst out in laughter. His joke couldn't possibly have been as good as that.
"It's a BLOCK party, Luka" Susan explained when their laughter had receded.
"Whatever. I knew it had something to do with rectangles of some sort."
He had to wait a bit until their second roar subsided.
"So, when's she coming over? Do you have an idea of what she'd like to eat?"
"Hm. . . Let me see. . ." Said Carter as he studied the menu.
A few minutes later, Luka had placed the call and they had moved into the living room. Susan was looking over Luka's collection of CD's while Carter let himself fall on the couch and let his head rest back.
"Now, now. Don't fall asleep," Luka warned.
He got no reaction from Carter. He slowly sank into one of the armchairs with a groan. Immediately, Carter's head propped up and his eyes flew open.
"Did that hurt?"
Luka wrinkled his nose, embarrassed. He darted a glance at Susan, who was apparently immersed in her study of his slim music collection. He shook his head, and tried a nonchalant tone.
"My father's right. These chairs are just too low."
"How's he doing?"
"Fine. Worried. He sends his regards."
"Worried? About what?"
"Christmas."
Susan heard Luka's cryptic answer as she put the CD into the CD player and hit the play button.
"How come your father's worried about Christmas?" She asked as she sat on the armchair opposite to Luka's.
"He's spending Christmas at my brother's. . ."
Luka made a pause. His forehead creased, and for an instant, Carter became really worried. Could it be something about the war that made Christmas a particularly painful time of the year for Luka's family? Suddenly, Luka spoke again.
"Would you like some wine? I'd bet there's a bottle of white wine somewhere."
Carter looked at him intently. Was Luka diverting the conversation? Then Luka smiled, realising his explanation had been left halfway through.
"My nieces are two hyperactive teenagers and they adore their grandfather. Whenever he goes to visit they're all over him."
Carter smiled in relief and stood up.
"Well, your father survived the firing squad, Luka. I'm sure he'll survive anything. Where's that bottle of wine now?"
He rummaged in the kitchen as he heard Susan drag a description of his nieces and sister-in-law out of Luka. He came back carrying the bottle and three glasses, and he handed the bottle and corkscrew to Luka, while he set the glasses on the coffee table. Susan was engaged in a story about little Susie and the Christmas tree. Luka smiled politely as she finished the story and he pulled the cork out of the bottle. Carter could have sworn there was an indefinable sadness around his eyes. Christmas stories about small children was maybe not such a good idea. But then he noticed the nostalgic look in Susan's eyes as soon as she stopped laughing and he came to think both Susan and Luka had something in common there.
"So, did you think it over?" He asked, suddenly.
Luka had a sip of his wine, a slightly annoyed smile curving his lips.
"Uh huh. . ."
"And?"
"I'll be working, Carter. But thanks."
"Have you talked to Romano?"
Luka nodded.
"He called this morning. We have an appointment tomorrow."
"So you still don't know."
"Carter. I'll be working."
"Hey, would you mind? I'm still in the room, you know," Susan complained.
Both of them smiled at her sheepishly.
"Carter's invited me over for Christmas." Luka explained, trying to sound nonchalant.
"And he's trying to find every lame excuse he can figure out to wriggle out of it," Carter finished.
Luka glared rays and thunderstorms at Carter. Susan couldn't help a muffled giggle. Then the doorbell rang, and Carter sprung to his feet. Luka made his best attempt to stand up too, since he was determined to pay for the meal and knew that if Carter got first to the door he would pay for it and then brush him off. He didn't have much luck however. He couldn't manage to gather enough momentum to get his weight on his feet and sank back in the chair. He reddened when he noticed Susan was staring at him worriedly.
"Do me a favour, Susan," he said, fishing his wallet from a side pocket and tossing it to her. "Don't let Carter pay."
Susan grabbed Luka's wallet with a deft movement, and then Luka heard Abby's voice.
"And what should Carter pay me for? Hey, Susan."
Susan answered Abby's greeting with a wink, while Luka clumsily turned around in the chair to look at Abby.
"Hey, Luka."
"Hey. . . " He desperately tried to find something to say. "Would you like some. . ." He stopped halfway through his sentence, suddenly realising he had been about to offer Abby the wine they were sharing. "Something to drink?" He smiled, hoping his pause had gone unnoticed.
If she had noticed his hesitation, she didn't show any signs. She nodded.
"Perrier would be fine."
"I'll bring it," said Carter, crossing the living room.
"So, you finally slipped out of the ER?" asked Susan, and Luka was grateful she picked up the thread of the conversation.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
Luka tossed and turned in bed. He peered at the alarm clock on the nightstand: almost 3 am. Admitting to himself there was no point in alternately staring at the shadows on the wall and the shadows on the ceiling, he turned on the reading lamp. He pulled himself up, then grabbed a couple of pillows and stacked them behind his back. He cast a look at the books on the nightstand. There was a small selection of them. In the last week, he hadn't been reading just one book as he'd done during the first days he had been able to concentrate. Now he had started on several at the same time and alternated among them. He wasn't sure whether that meant that his concentration and eagerness to read had increased, or whether it was just the opposite.
He picked up the one that was on top of the pile, opened it and had a look at the beautiful bookmark. It had come inside the book, some days ago. Again, there hadn't been any name of sender, no return address, no card, no inscription. And this time, the book hadn't even borne a trace of where it had been bought. When he had opened the outer envelope, after carefully studying the stamps, Luka had opened the gift paper with care, had stared at the bookmark for a while and then, before starting to read the book, he had carefully smoothed down the wrapping paper, had doubled it and had put it in a drawer. Afterwards, he had wondered at what he had done. It had been a very long time since he had last treasured anything. In fact, for many years he had lived only with the most basic things. He had learnt, from painful experience, that everything on earth was disposable, so he hadn't wanted to own anything. There was no point in getting attached. The only thing he had carried along from the time before the war had been the picture of Danijela and Jasna.
He sighed, realising he hadn't understood the first paragraph of the story, and started once again. He had liked the few stories he had read until now, but this book hadn't caught his attention as forcefully as the one by Kundera. Maybe it was because it was a collection of short stories and not a novel. He had always liked novels best. He enjoyed how the story and the characters had time and space to develop. He knew that part of the charm of short stories was the tight construction, the exact fitting of the pieces, but he couldn't help feeling cheated when he suddenly came to the end of them. He always had the feeling there was always something left out, something missing.
Luka looked up at the window, where the faint light of the street slipped through the half closed blinds. He took a deep breath. Once again, he had failed to grasp what he had just read. He looked down and read the first words on the page, which by now had gained an annoying familiar ring. 'The shores of the small island were rocky, abrupt. On top of them grew the short, dense vegetation. . .' Rocky shores, dense vegetation. Like the small inhabited island just across the strait a few kilometres from his grandfather's farm. God, he missed the sea. But no, he didn't just miss the sea. He had lived a couple of years in San Francisco some time ago, and still there, by the Pacific Ocean, he'd felt the same yearning as he felt now in Chicago. What he really missed was the part of the coast he had grown up close to. There were no words to describe how much he missed it, how much he longed, and feared, to go back there.
'I know what you mean,' Susan had said that evening, when they'd been discussing home and not being able to go back to it. She had told him about a tree in the backyard of her grandparent's house. It had always been her favourite hiding place whenever her father and grandfather engaged in a heated argument in any of the family celebrations. The tree had been cut down when she had been thirteen, and since then she had always felt in the open and unprotected whenever she had been forced to go to family gatherings.
Luka wasn't certain Susan understood him, despite her efforts at connecting. It wasn't just that he feared being in the open if he came back, his emotions bare and too raw to master. It was rather that he feared he had lost the emotions, the memories. He had changed, as much as the place itself had changed. Too many years of running away from himself and evading meaningful human relationships had emptied him to a point in which he wondered whether he would ever be able to be near someone again, to reconnect with someone at a personal level.
Some of the things that had happened this evening seemed to prove his fears right. Although he had to admit he had liked having Abby, Susan and Carter around, and had enjoyed their light conversation and teasing, he had also felt that there was a gulf between him and the three of them, a breach which he just didn't know how to close. Or maybe it wasn't just him, maybe they weren't willing to close the gap themselves. He had sensed how they all trod carefully around him. He had seen the wariness and doubt in their eyes. Well, he had certainly given them reasons for being on their guard. He hadn't been the gentlest or friendliest man before he travelled to the Congo. . . He shrank at the bitter sentiments that were involuntarily creeping back to him. He tried to push the thoughts away.
He stared fixedly at the page, but by then he knew that trying to read the book was an exercise in futility, and so was trying to sleep. He put the book back on the nightstand, shoved the covers away and grabbed the crutches. He shuddered a bit when his feet touched the cold floor. The air was chilly. He never set the heating too high, like people were used to here in America, because he just couldn't get used to the high room temperatures. He smiled when he remembered both Abby and Susan had complained of being cold that evening, and had stared incredulously at him when he had suggested them he could lend them a sweater. . .
Luka leant over to grab his clothes which were lying at the foot of the bed and slowly put on his pants and sweatshirt. He shoved his feet in the slippers. The alarm clock stood at 4.35. Luka stood up. Well, if he wasn't going to sleep anymore, he'd better make himself a cup of coffee. He had to meet Romano later that day. It would be better if he were at least partially alert.
* * * * * * * *
* * * * * *
