Disclaimers: All the usual ones apply.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
There was an ambulance blocking the entrance to the bay, so Luka's taxi couldn't make it to the doors of the ER. With a sigh of resignation, he paid the driver and opened the door. After struggling a bit with the crutches, he got them out and got to his feet, supporting himself against the roof of the car. He then slid the crutches under his armpits, slammed the door of the cab and carefully made his way through the ambulance bay.
He kept on staring at the floor. He didn't want to slip on a fragment of ice and end up with his butt painfully hitting the floor like he'd done earlier that day, when he had got out of his apartment. He was sure nothing serious had happened, but his right hip was still letting its complaints be heard. He'd been lucky he hadn't fallen on his left side. So now he was cautiously studying the ground before he set the crutches in front of him and then giving a step towards them. He was about to get to the entrance when he heard the voice.
"What, willing to join the lunatic asylum already?"
Luka shrank inwardly. That was just his luck. Of all the people he would have met in the ER that day, he had to bump into Romano first. He'd hoped he'd meet Carter, or Susan, or Abby. He looked up. Romano was sitting on the bumper of one of the ambulances, with a half smile pasted on his face but there was something different about him. Luka couldn't really spot what it was. The smile had lost part of its edge, or so it seemed. Luka hovered over the little man.
"Uhm. Hello, Dr. Romano," he muttered.
Romano seemed to examine his face for a while.
"Well, you shouldn't look so surprised to meet me, since I gather you're coming to our meeting, aren't you?"
"Uh huh," Luka nodded.
Romano let out a sharp grin.
"Not the most communicative of men as usual, Kovac. Or maybe you forgot your English while running adventures in the jungle?"
Luka decided that was not worth a reply. Strangely enough, Romano seemed a little taken aback by his silence.
"You're early," he said after a while.
Luka wasn't going to admit he had hoped for a little encouragement from his co-workers before he had to face the chief of the ER. He just nodded.
Romano gave out an exasperated sigh, but made no comments. They were silent for a while, and at the end, Romano spoke again.
"Would you join me for coffee, then? I was about to get over to that hovel of a diner to grab a cup before you came."
Luka gawked at him for a second before he managed some kind of reaction.
"Uh. all right," he said at last.
Romano stood up and waited for him to wheel around The two of them made their way through the ambulance bay. Luka feared the little man would start one of his rounds of bantering to which he was sure he wouldn't be able to reply. He was having trouble enough trying to keep his balance without having to think of suitable replies to Romano's sarcasm. Not that he'd ever been good at it, anyway. But he didn't like the silence either. Time seemed to stand still as he tried to advance on his crutches. It felt like centuries before they reached the street and crossed it. Romano went ahead and held the door of the diner open for him, while Luka climbed the few steps.
"Thank you," he said as he went past the little doctor.
"Always welcome." There was, as always, a hint of mockery in Romano's voice, but otherwise it was unusually kind.
Luka had a look around. There wasn't anybody from County in the diner. Just his luck. He picked one of the tables and hobbled his way to it. He sat, carefully stretching his left leg on the side of the aisle and placing the crutches beside him, while Romano sat on the opposite side.
A waitress came to take their order. It took her a while to collect herself after she caught sight of Luka's leg. Then, after a brief silence, she took her notebook from the pocket in her apron and the pencil from behind her ear.
"What will it be, gentlemen?"
"Coffee," answered Romano curtly. "Would you like something else, Kovac?"
Luka shook his head.
"Coffee, it is," said the waitress and went away.
Romano stared into Luka's face, and Luka gave him a tentative look. Then he looked out through the big windows, uncomfortable.
"So, tell me why are you so eager to join the leper colony."
Luka shrugged.
"My sick leave is over."
"Yeah, but it's MY job to remind you of that and make sure you get your sorry ass to work. You aren't trying to snatch my job from me, are you?"
"I need to get back to work," Luka sighed.
"Well, out of the display of graceful mobility you've made so far I'd guess your performance in the ER will not be stunningly efficient."
"I can work," retorted Luka with irritation.
"Come on, Kovac. I watched you cross the ambulance bay. It took you almost ten minutes."
"There's a lot of ice out there."
Luka didn't understand why Romano was playing the good-hearted boss. Usually, the ER chiefs were always eager to get their doctors back on duty as soon as they were on their feet, crutches or no crutches. Weaver had never had trouble with that. She had even let Carter work when he had obviously still been in pain after the stabbing.
"The floors of the ER can also be damn slippery. And how exactly are you going to handle a trauma?"
"I can take the minor cases."
"Gee, man. You must be desperate." Romano shook his head in disbelief. "Unless."
The waitress came with two mugs and the coffee pot. Romano waited for her to serve the coffee and walk away before he finished his sentence.
"Unless you're trying to compete with me."
Luka stared at him while his forehead creased. He didn't understand a thing.
"On the freak show, I mean. I'm number one on the top ten."
Luka was still in the dark. Romano let out a sigh of exasperation. Then he raised his left arm and put it on the table. Luka reddened when he caught sight of the hook. Oh God. Why hadn't Carter or Susan ever told him about it? He was unable to stare for long at the prosthesis and his sight fell to his cup of coffee. Romano's next words hit him like a physical blow.
"But by now you'd have to know that you'd have to get something chopped off just to get to my level."
A tense silence followed. Luka gritted his teeth.
"When are you going to have those taken out?" Asked Romano suddenly.
Luka looked up. Romano was pointing at the half pins and the rod that protruded from his left leg and stuck out from the side of his jeans.
"In three weeks."
"Well, it'd be pretty nasty if those got caught in the railings of some gurney." started Romano, and then studied Luka's expression carefully. "But if you're really so miserable without us I can arrange something for you. How about working part time to start with?"
The tone of Romano's voice was almost kind. It took Luka a while before he managed a nod. Then he had a sip of coffee. He still couldn't figure Romano out. The little doctor smiled, pleased with himself when he noticed Luka's confusion. He rummaged in the pocket of his lab coat. He finally fished up a diary.
"Let's see. How about starting the day after tomorrow?"
"That will be fine." Luka hesitated. "Thank you, Dr. Romano."
"Like I said, you're always welcome. Green Card."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Luka stirred his glass so the ice cubes clinked against its sides. He raised the glass to look at the drink against the light. The alcohol traced a delicate pattern as it blended with the water from the ice cubes. He sniffed the drink, relishing on the penetrating smell. He then had a sip. He tasted the dry, stinging flavour and then smiled to himself. He had known he was doing well when he had chosen the best brand of vodka. Anyway, it was a holiday, and he was celebrating. Well, sure, his way of feasting might not be the most orthodox, but it was a kind of celebration, the one he felt most comfortable with.
He had spent a quiet afternoon reading and watching a rerun of a football match, and then he had fixed himself a quick supper. After making sure it was the right time, he had picked up the phone and dialled his brother's number. He had laughed when he heard the commotion in his brother's crowded apartment as Sofija, Stjepan's wife, had picked the telephone. He had had a brief conversation with her, and then he had got Stjepan on the phone. Of course, there hadn't been any chance of having a civilised talk with his older brother while the rest of the family was shouting and fussing in the background, but anyway they had been able to exchange some words.
And then he'd got Tata on the line, and enjoyed Tata's futile attempts at finding out how he was doing while trying to get Ana and Dunja off his back. Then Ana had got hold of the phone and had teased him about him asking her about her studies, and had feigned offence at listening that her favourite uncle had been apparently flirting with American women instead of coming to Croatia to flirt with her, as it should be. When she was done with him, it had been Dunja's turn to get to the phone and ask him whether he was spending a nice 'Chrrrristhmas', her tongue rolling in an imitation of an American accent.
At last, Tata had been able to rescue the receiver and Stjepan had apparently managed to get both of his daughters out of the living room, giving Tata some space to have a real conversation with Luka. They had spent a good half hour telling each other the latest news. Luka had prepared a few so he would be able to avoid Tata's uncomfortable questions, and had managed to fend some of them off. Of course, it hadn't been that easy with the Gillian issue, nor with his lack of sleep. But Tata seemed happy to know he was back to work and thriving.
Luka had then listened to Tata's complaints about how big and annoying had Ana and Dunja become during the last year, and how he wasn't able to get them off his back. He had had a big laugh at the description Tata had made of Ana introducing him to her boyfriend and declaring to the poor boy that her grandpa was her first love and that nobody would be able to replace him ever. Luka could just picture the poor boy's face dropping in dejection and embarrassment at that. Ana was a piece of work. Luka pitied the boys her age. In the end, Luka had sent his warmest regards to everybody and had hung up.
Funny how a half-an hour phone call could turn your whole day around, he thought as he distractedly brushed the plastic surface of the receiver. He actually felt light-hearted. He had known all along that phone call would be the high-point of his day, as it had been during the past twelve years or so, but he hadn't expected it to lift his spirits so much this year. Well, he told himself rubbing his eyes with a hand, better to enjoy the good mood and go on with his Christmas. He leant towards the coffee table and had a look at the small assortment of videos Susan had left there. He would watch a movie or maybe two, while he had a drink or maybe two and then he would go to sleep, just like he had done every year, whenever he hadn't been lucky enough to be on a shift.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gillian knocked at the door and then tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She cringed at the sound of high pitched, merry voices coming from the apartment. She didn't exactly know what she was doing there. But the alternative, staying in her own apartment, watching TV and reading a little, was anything but an appealing option for spending Christmas. Not that her way of celebrating, back in Montreal, had ever been very homely. She usually partied with friends in somebody's house, or in an overcrowded disco. Of course, Anto's, Bojana's and Marija's definition of Christmas was far away from what she was used to.
Suddenly, the door flew open, and Bojana stood there, greeting her. Gillian managed to paste a smile on her face and somehow answer to her greetings, as she braced herself for the unavoidable: endless presentations and the multiple questions that would follow. Anto's and Bojana's numerous friends would surely be curious about this Canadian who'd decided to move to Chicago and learn Croatian, of all the languages in the world. She had already found a fitting answer for the first question, albeit a false one: her job at the nursing home was better than anything she'd been offered in Canada. For the second, however, she hadn't been able to forge a suitable reply. She hoped somehow she would get a sudden whoosh of inspiration, an answer so short and definitive that it would fend off further inquiries.
Bojana had already got hold of her coat and had hung it on the rack. Gillian noticed there were but a couple of coats there. Maybe she had come too early and they were still expecting their other guests? She noticed Bojana's look of concern and managed to gather herself.
"Sorry? I didn't understand what you said. . ." She said, when she realised Bojana had just asked her something.
Bojana darted her a knowing smile.
"Yeah, I noticed that. Are you all right, Gillian?"
Gillian nodded.
"You sure?"
Gillian sighed. She should have known it wouldn't be easy to fool Bojana. She pointed at the coat rack.
"Your guests not arrived? Did I come too early?"
Bojana smiled. Gillian's questions had been meant to divert her attention from whatever was bothering her, but they had had the opposite effect. Now Bojana had a pretty good idea of what was eating her up.
"We have, in fact, only four guests beside you, Gillian," she explained and made a mental note of scolding Anto later. He should have explained to Gillian how were they going to celebrate Christmas. "There are Matej and Jelka which you've already met, and then there are Rosa and Mirna, mamma's friends."
Immediately, she noticed Gillian's smile of relief.
"Now, the old ladies can be quite bothersome. But you just wink at me if they pin you down and I'll come to your rescue, okay?"
Gillian grinned.
"I'm sure it is not necessary, Bojana."
"No, believe me, it is. Promise me you'll call me."
"Okay."
"Fine," said Bojana as she led Gillian into the living room. "Matej, here's Gillian."
Gillian smiled at the tall, heavy built man that was sprawled on the couch, but hurried to stand up as soon as he saw her. She held out her hand and smiled. This time the smile on her lips was genuine. Matej and Jelka were two of the few friends Anto and Bojana had introduced her to. They were in their mid-thirties, both engineers, both working with big companies in the Chicago area. She glanced around the empty living room.
"Where's Jelka? Is she hiding somewhere?" Asked Gillian, trying to make fun of her own bewilderment.
"She's attending mass," explained Matej.
Gillian raised her eyebrows. So that had been the reason why they had asked her to come so late. Of course, they were gone to midnight mass.
"With the others?"
Bojana nodded.
"Yeah, with the good Christians. It's only us heathens left here."
Matej laughed at the joke, but Gillian's forehead creased.
"Heathens?"
Bojana cast an arm over Gillian's shoulders.
"Not good Christians. Unbelievers," she explained. "We have to get dinner ready as a punishment. Are you two going to help me?"
"Yeah, of course," Gillian answered.
Matej looked tentative, apparently weighing his chances to slip out of the forced commitment, but after Bojana cast him a threatening look he picked up his drink from the coffee table and followed both women into the kitchen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Luka was making himself a sandwich in the kitchen when the telephone rang. He dropped the knife on the counter and grabbed his crutches. Cursing under his breath, he hurried to the living room, as he counted the rings. Two. . . three. . . he was still at some distance from the phone and the answering machine would pick up at the fifth ring. Four. . . He hadn't expected anyone to call that evening. That was the reason why he hadn't been carrying the cordless around. Who could it be? He plopped on the couch and grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?" He said, out of breath.
"Caught you at a bad moment?" Susan's voice asked.
"Kind of. . ." Luka trailed off.
"Don't tell me you. . ." Susan faltered and decided to drop the low joke. It took her a minute to find another one, less loaded, to replace it. "Were lighting the Christmas tree."
Luka laughed.
"Making myself a sandwich and serving my third vodka," he deadpanned.
"Got a good drinking rhythm," Susan noted, and glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty. She wondered whether Luka was planning to empty the bottle that night. If he did, he was taking it slowly.
"Taking it easy," said Luka, as if he was reading her thoughts.
That left her at a loss for words. Fortunately, he continued:
"I've just had my first two while watching one of your movies. It was fun."
"Oh, come on," Susan growled. "Do you really have to make my life even more miserable?"
She was pleased to hear his chuckle.
"So, how are things going on down there?" He asked.
"Slow. For once."
"Just my luck," he faked a complaint. "The first time in years I'm out of it and then you get a quiet shift."
"It all depends on how you look at it, Luka. It's boring me out of my mind."
"U huh."
Susan suppressed a sigh when another silence invaded the line. Sometimes it was still difficult to get a conversation going with Luka, especially when he darted out his famous 'huh's' or 'u-huh's'. She had meant to wish him a Merry Christmas over the phone, but he wasn't making things easy. She just couldn't figure out how to keep things in the light mood without becoming too sentimental.
"Well, I was wondering if you'd be up to a Christmas breakfast," she suddenly said. "You haven't tried my famous blueberry pancakes yet."
"Uh. . . Susan. . . That's very nice of you, but you'll be drained tomorrow morning. . ."
"Hey, I'm volunteering. Don't waste the chance."
"Besides, I don't think I've got the ingredients. . ."
"Never mind, I've got everything I need here."
"You have?"
Luka couldn't hide the shocked astonishment in his voice. He was touched. Had she really taken all the effort of shopping for a Christmas breakfast with him? And if she had, why hadn't she said anything to him before? Well, maybe it was because she knew he'd try to turn down her invitation. If she caught him by surprise, it was less possible he'd say no.
"Yes, I do. How about me dropping by at eight?"
There was a brief silence, and Susan shifted on her feet. This was getting more and more difficult. Would he say no? If he didn't, then she'd be into deep trouble. She would have to go home and pick the ingredients before heading to Luka's. And what if she didn't have everything she needed back home? Where would she find a convenience store open early on Christmas day?
"Eight will be fine."
Susan breathed in and out.
"All right, see you tomorrow, then," she said, trying to sound cheerful.
"Good night, Susan."
"Hm. I think the line goes 'Merry Christmas'."
She could listen him breath out as he smiled, and she instantly knew she'd been right in following her impulse and inviting herself over for breakfast.
"Merry Christmas, Susan."
"Merry Christmas, Luka."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"So, tell me, why did you decide to learn Croatian?"
Gillian glared at Matej, who was sitting beside her by the table. She noticed a warm wave hitting her cheeks as she blushed. Geez. Just as they were peaking a great Christmas dinner. . . She blinked a couple of times, smiled and had a sip of wine, trying to make time for Anto or Bojana to intervene. But Bojana was busy talking to one of the old ladies, and Anto had just retreated to the kitchen to get another bottle of wine. She would have to get out of this one by herself.
"Well. . ." She began, and then she was intensely aware of Marija and Rosa studying her. Of course, the old ladies wouldn't slip the chance of getting their hands into gossip material.
"There's this guy I met in the Congo as I volunteered as a nurse with Alliance de Medicines International. I fell in love with him. Then he became really sick and the only language he'd speak was Croatian. So I tried to learn some to understand him."
Matej raised his eyebrows.
"Did you? Really?"
Gillian tried not to roll her eyes. What an intelligent question. Well, she couldn't expect too much from him taking into account the amount of alcohol he'd already put into his system. She had also had a bit too much to drink herself. Otherwise, she would have never been so straightforward.
"Yeah. But when he got well again things didn't work out. My fault, I guess. I assumed he'd feel the same as I did." Gillian's voice was carefully neutral and nonchalant as she went over her story. She shrugged and brushed the next question off, by raising her glass.
"Merry Christmas," she said, addressing all the people around the table.
They all lifted their glasses and toasted with her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Green Card!" Luka felt the chills run down his spine as the commanding, familiar voice resounded in the hall.
Some days before Luka had made it clear to Romano that he wasn't going to stand being called any more names, but had only got a sneer for an answer. Well, a sneer and a challenge:
"If you find a name for me I really find obnoxious, I'll stop calling you names, Count Vlad. Otherwise you'll just have to develop a thicker skin."
So Luka had started racking his brains. He had soon found out that the worse Croatian insults just washed over the little man. Cutting allusions to his height, baldness, foul temper, selfishness or oversized ego were also ineffective. References to a probable impotence or lack of sexual activity had only prompted a rant of sarcastic comments about Luka's former sexual partners in a volume high enough to be heard from the OR. It had made him work with his sight fixed to the floor for over a week, especially after most of the women in the ER had decided to assure him they thought Romano was the jerk, not him. Not even the boldest invectives about the lack of one arm had worked. And although he had got help from the ER staff, Luka was now sure he'd lost the challenge and he'd never hear the end of Romano's bickering.
He turned around and faced the little doctor, perfectly conscious of the nurses and doctors on the hall. They hadn't stopped their tasks. They didn't provide a willing public for the ever continuing battle of words between the two of them anymore, after having witnessed defeat after defeat on Luka's part. He looked around and then focused on Romano.
"Yes?"
"Well, Igor. I reckon you're getting really good on those crutches. Turning around only took you." He faked a glance at his watch. "About a minute. Would you mind telling me why you haven't discharged Mr. Thompson yet?"
"I'm still waiting on some lab results," answered Luka, looking straight into the eyes of the little man.
"So you DID order them."
Luka sustained Romano's look squarely.
"I can't rule out an internal bleeding on the basis of an abdominal X-ray."
"So that's why you practise a five hundred dollar exam on a homeless man against the express orders of your immediate superior?"
"Isn't this a public hospital?"
"I'm sure you must be nostalgic for the good old days comrade, but I've got news for you: communism is over. Things are not like in former Yugoslavia anymore. Get over it."
Luka suddenly saw red. He hovered over Romano and clutched his crutches with all his strength, trying to overcome the irresistible impulse to knock the other doctor down. He set his jaw tight, and when he thought he could manage an answer without grabbing Romano by lab coat lapels and throwing him against the wall, he took a controlled breath.
"What the hell do YOU know?" He hissed.
"Nothing. Just as much as YOU know about hospital budgets," Romano hissed back. "But you should follow the orders of a superior."
"It is MY patient."
"Not any more, Kovac. You're suspended."
"You can't do that."
"Oh, yes. I can. I can also."
Luka turned briskly around, cutting off whatever Romano intended to say and walked down the corridor.
"Fine," he shouted over his shoulder. "Call me when I'm due back."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
There was an ambulance blocking the entrance to the bay, so Luka's taxi couldn't make it to the doors of the ER. With a sigh of resignation, he paid the driver and opened the door. After struggling a bit with the crutches, he got them out and got to his feet, supporting himself against the roof of the car. He then slid the crutches under his armpits, slammed the door of the cab and carefully made his way through the ambulance bay.
He kept on staring at the floor. He didn't want to slip on a fragment of ice and end up with his butt painfully hitting the floor like he'd done earlier that day, when he had got out of his apartment. He was sure nothing serious had happened, but his right hip was still letting its complaints be heard. He'd been lucky he hadn't fallen on his left side. So now he was cautiously studying the ground before he set the crutches in front of him and then giving a step towards them. He was about to get to the entrance when he heard the voice.
"What, willing to join the lunatic asylum already?"
Luka shrank inwardly. That was just his luck. Of all the people he would have met in the ER that day, he had to bump into Romano first. He'd hoped he'd meet Carter, or Susan, or Abby. He looked up. Romano was sitting on the bumper of one of the ambulances, with a half smile pasted on his face but there was something different about him. Luka couldn't really spot what it was. The smile had lost part of its edge, or so it seemed. Luka hovered over the little man.
"Uhm. Hello, Dr. Romano," he muttered.
Romano seemed to examine his face for a while.
"Well, you shouldn't look so surprised to meet me, since I gather you're coming to our meeting, aren't you?"
"Uh huh," Luka nodded.
Romano let out a sharp grin.
"Not the most communicative of men as usual, Kovac. Or maybe you forgot your English while running adventures in the jungle?"
Luka decided that was not worth a reply. Strangely enough, Romano seemed a little taken aback by his silence.
"You're early," he said after a while.
Luka wasn't going to admit he had hoped for a little encouragement from his co-workers before he had to face the chief of the ER. He just nodded.
Romano gave out an exasperated sigh, but made no comments. They were silent for a while, and at the end, Romano spoke again.
"Would you join me for coffee, then? I was about to get over to that hovel of a diner to grab a cup before you came."
Luka gawked at him for a second before he managed some kind of reaction.
"Uh. all right," he said at last.
Romano stood up and waited for him to wheel around The two of them made their way through the ambulance bay. Luka feared the little man would start one of his rounds of bantering to which he was sure he wouldn't be able to reply. He was having trouble enough trying to keep his balance without having to think of suitable replies to Romano's sarcasm. Not that he'd ever been good at it, anyway. But he didn't like the silence either. Time seemed to stand still as he tried to advance on his crutches. It felt like centuries before they reached the street and crossed it. Romano went ahead and held the door of the diner open for him, while Luka climbed the few steps.
"Thank you," he said as he went past the little doctor.
"Always welcome." There was, as always, a hint of mockery in Romano's voice, but otherwise it was unusually kind.
Luka had a look around. There wasn't anybody from County in the diner. Just his luck. He picked one of the tables and hobbled his way to it. He sat, carefully stretching his left leg on the side of the aisle and placing the crutches beside him, while Romano sat on the opposite side.
A waitress came to take their order. It took her a while to collect herself after she caught sight of Luka's leg. Then, after a brief silence, she took her notebook from the pocket in her apron and the pencil from behind her ear.
"What will it be, gentlemen?"
"Coffee," answered Romano curtly. "Would you like something else, Kovac?"
Luka shook his head.
"Coffee, it is," said the waitress and went away.
Romano stared into Luka's face, and Luka gave him a tentative look. Then he looked out through the big windows, uncomfortable.
"So, tell me why are you so eager to join the leper colony."
Luka shrugged.
"My sick leave is over."
"Yeah, but it's MY job to remind you of that and make sure you get your sorry ass to work. You aren't trying to snatch my job from me, are you?"
"I need to get back to work," Luka sighed.
"Well, out of the display of graceful mobility you've made so far I'd guess your performance in the ER will not be stunningly efficient."
"I can work," retorted Luka with irritation.
"Come on, Kovac. I watched you cross the ambulance bay. It took you almost ten minutes."
"There's a lot of ice out there."
Luka didn't understand why Romano was playing the good-hearted boss. Usually, the ER chiefs were always eager to get their doctors back on duty as soon as they were on their feet, crutches or no crutches. Weaver had never had trouble with that. She had even let Carter work when he had obviously still been in pain after the stabbing.
"The floors of the ER can also be damn slippery. And how exactly are you going to handle a trauma?"
"I can take the minor cases."
"Gee, man. You must be desperate." Romano shook his head in disbelief. "Unless."
The waitress came with two mugs and the coffee pot. Romano waited for her to serve the coffee and walk away before he finished his sentence.
"Unless you're trying to compete with me."
Luka stared at him while his forehead creased. He didn't understand a thing.
"On the freak show, I mean. I'm number one on the top ten."
Luka was still in the dark. Romano let out a sigh of exasperation. Then he raised his left arm and put it on the table. Luka reddened when he caught sight of the hook. Oh God. Why hadn't Carter or Susan ever told him about it? He was unable to stare for long at the prosthesis and his sight fell to his cup of coffee. Romano's next words hit him like a physical blow.
"But by now you'd have to know that you'd have to get something chopped off just to get to my level."
A tense silence followed. Luka gritted his teeth.
"When are you going to have those taken out?" Asked Romano suddenly.
Luka looked up. Romano was pointing at the half pins and the rod that protruded from his left leg and stuck out from the side of his jeans.
"In three weeks."
"Well, it'd be pretty nasty if those got caught in the railings of some gurney." started Romano, and then studied Luka's expression carefully. "But if you're really so miserable without us I can arrange something for you. How about working part time to start with?"
The tone of Romano's voice was almost kind. It took Luka a while before he managed a nod. Then he had a sip of coffee. He still couldn't figure Romano out. The little doctor smiled, pleased with himself when he noticed Luka's confusion. He rummaged in the pocket of his lab coat. He finally fished up a diary.
"Let's see. How about starting the day after tomorrow?"
"That will be fine." Luka hesitated. "Thank you, Dr. Romano."
"Like I said, you're always welcome. Green Card."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Luka stirred his glass so the ice cubes clinked against its sides. He raised the glass to look at the drink against the light. The alcohol traced a delicate pattern as it blended with the water from the ice cubes. He sniffed the drink, relishing on the penetrating smell. He then had a sip. He tasted the dry, stinging flavour and then smiled to himself. He had known he was doing well when he had chosen the best brand of vodka. Anyway, it was a holiday, and he was celebrating. Well, sure, his way of feasting might not be the most orthodox, but it was a kind of celebration, the one he felt most comfortable with.
He had spent a quiet afternoon reading and watching a rerun of a football match, and then he had fixed himself a quick supper. After making sure it was the right time, he had picked up the phone and dialled his brother's number. He had laughed when he heard the commotion in his brother's crowded apartment as Sofija, Stjepan's wife, had picked the telephone. He had had a brief conversation with her, and then he had got Stjepan on the phone. Of course, there hadn't been any chance of having a civilised talk with his older brother while the rest of the family was shouting and fussing in the background, but anyway they had been able to exchange some words.
And then he'd got Tata on the line, and enjoyed Tata's futile attempts at finding out how he was doing while trying to get Ana and Dunja off his back. Then Ana had got hold of the phone and had teased him about him asking her about her studies, and had feigned offence at listening that her favourite uncle had been apparently flirting with American women instead of coming to Croatia to flirt with her, as it should be. When she was done with him, it had been Dunja's turn to get to the phone and ask him whether he was spending a nice 'Chrrrristhmas', her tongue rolling in an imitation of an American accent.
At last, Tata had been able to rescue the receiver and Stjepan had apparently managed to get both of his daughters out of the living room, giving Tata some space to have a real conversation with Luka. They had spent a good half hour telling each other the latest news. Luka had prepared a few so he would be able to avoid Tata's uncomfortable questions, and had managed to fend some of them off. Of course, it hadn't been that easy with the Gillian issue, nor with his lack of sleep. But Tata seemed happy to know he was back to work and thriving.
Luka had then listened to Tata's complaints about how big and annoying had Ana and Dunja become during the last year, and how he wasn't able to get them off his back. He had had a big laugh at the description Tata had made of Ana introducing him to her boyfriend and declaring to the poor boy that her grandpa was her first love and that nobody would be able to replace him ever. Luka could just picture the poor boy's face dropping in dejection and embarrassment at that. Ana was a piece of work. Luka pitied the boys her age. In the end, Luka had sent his warmest regards to everybody and had hung up.
Funny how a half-an hour phone call could turn your whole day around, he thought as he distractedly brushed the plastic surface of the receiver. He actually felt light-hearted. He had known all along that phone call would be the high-point of his day, as it had been during the past twelve years or so, but he hadn't expected it to lift his spirits so much this year. Well, he told himself rubbing his eyes with a hand, better to enjoy the good mood and go on with his Christmas. He leant towards the coffee table and had a look at the small assortment of videos Susan had left there. He would watch a movie or maybe two, while he had a drink or maybe two and then he would go to sleep, just like he had done every year, whenever he hadn't been lucky enough to be on a shift.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Gillian knocked at the door and then tried to calm the butterflies in her stomach. She cringed at the sound of high pitched, merry voices coming from the apartment. She didn't exactly know what she was doing there. But the alternative, staying in her own apartment, watching TV and reading a little, was anything but an appealing option for spending Christmas. Not that her way of celebrating, back in Montreal, had ever been very homely. She usually partied with friends in somebody's house, or in an overcrowded disco. Of course, Anto's, Bojana's and Marija's definition of Christmas was far away from what she was used to.
Suddenly, the door flew open, and Bojana stood there, greeting her. Gillian managed to paste a smile on her face and somehow answer to her greetings, as she braced herself for the unavoidable: endless presentations and the multiple questions that would follow. Anto's and Bojana's numerous friends would surely be curious about this Canadian who'd decided to move to Chicago and learn Croatian, of all the languages in the world. She had already found a fitting answer for the first question, albeit a false one: her job at the nursing home was better than anything she'd been offered in Canada. For the second, however, she hadn't been able to forge a suitable reply. She hoped somehow she would get a sudden whoosh of inspiration, an answer so short and definitive that it would fend off further inquiries.
Bojana had already got hold of her coat and had hung it on the rack. Gillian noticed there were but a couple of coats there. Maybe she had come too early and they were still expecting their other guests? She noticed Bojana's look of concern and managed to gather herself.
"Sorry? I didn't understand what you said. . ." She said, when she realised Bojana had just asked her something.
Bojana darted her a knowing smile.
"Yeah, I noticed that. Are you all right, Gillian?"
Gillian nodded.
"You sure?"
Gillian sighed. She should have known it wouldn't be easy to fool Bojana. She pointed at the coat rack.
"Your guests not arrived? Did I come too early?"
Bojana smiled. Gillian's questions had been meant to divert her attention from whatever was bothering her, but they had had the opposite effect. Now Bojana had a pretty good idea of what was eating her up.
"We have, in fact, only four guests beside you, Gillian," she explained and made a mental note of scolding Anto later. He should have explained to Gillian how were they going to celebrate Christmas. "There are Matej and Jelka which you've already met, and then there are Rosa and Mirna, mamma's friends."
Immediately, she noticed Gillian's smile of relief.
"Now, the old ladies can be quite bothersome. But you just wink at me if they pin you down and I'll come to your rescue, okay?"
Gillian grinned.
"I'm sure it is not necessary, Bojana."
"No, believe me, it is. Promise me you'll call me."
"Okay."
"Fine," said Bojana as she led Gillian into the living room. "Matej, here's Gillian."
Gillian smiled at the tall, heavy built man that was sprawled on the couch, but hurried to stand up as soon as he saw her. She held out her hand and smiled. This time the smile on her lips was genuine. Matej and Jelka were two of the few friends Anto and Bojana had introduced her to. They were in their mid-thirties, both engineers, both working with big companies in the Chicago area. She glanced around the empty living room.
"Where's Jelka? Is she hiding somewhere?" Asked Gillian, trying to make fun of her own bewilderment.
"She's attending mass," explained Matej.
Gillian raised her eyebrows. So that had been the reason why they had asked her to come so late. Of course, they were gone to midnight mass.
"With the others?"
Bojana nodded.
"Yeah, with the good Christians. It's only us heathens left here."
Matej laughed at the joke, but Gillian's forehead creased.
"Heathens?"
Bojana cast an arm over Gillian's shoulders.
"Not good Christians. Unbelievers," she explained. "We have to get dinner ready as a punishment. Are you two going to help me?"
"Yeah, of course," Gillian answered.
Matej looked tentative, apparently weighing his chances to slip out of the forced commitment, but after Bojana cast him a threatening look he picked up his drink from the coffee table and followed both women into the kitchen.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
Luka was making himself a sandwich in the kitchen when the telephone rang. He dropped the knife on the counter and grabbed his crutches. Cursing under his breath, he hurried to the living room, as he counted the rings. Two. . . three. . . he was still at some distance from the phone and the answering machine would pick up at the fifth ring. Four. . . He hadn't expected anyone to call that evening. That was the reason why he hadn't been carrying the cordless around. Who could it be? He plopped on the couch and grabbed the receiver.
"Hello?" He said, out of breath.
"Caught you at a bad moment?" Susan's voice asked.
"Kind of. . ." Luka trailed off.
"Don't tell me you. . ." Susan faltered and decided to drop the low joke. It took her a minute to find another one, less loaded, to replace it. "Were lighting the Christmas tree."
Luka laughed.
"Making myself a sandwich and serving my third vodka," he deadpanned.
"Got a good drinking rhythm," Susan noted, and glanced at her watch. Eleven thirty. She wondered whether Luka was planning to empty the bottle that night. If he did, he was taking it slowly.
"Taking it easy," said Luka, as if he was reading her thoughts.
That left her at a loss for words. Fortunately, he continued:
"I've just had my first two while watching one of your movies. It was fun."
"Oh, come on," Susan growled. "Do you really have to make my life even more miserable?"
She was pleased to hear his chuckle.
"So, how are things going on down there?" He asked.
"Slow. For once."
"Just my luck," he faked a complaint. "The first time in years I'm out of it and then you get a quiet shift."
"It all depends on how you look at it, Luka. It's boring me out of my mind."
"U huh."
Susan suppressed a sigh when another silence invaded the line. Sometimes it was still difficult to get a conversation going with Luka, especially when he darted out his famous 'huh's' or 'u-huh's'. She had meant to wish him a Merry Christmas over the phone, but he wasn't making things easy. She just couldn't figure out how to keep things in the light mood without becoming too sentimental.
"Well, I was wondering if you'd be up to a Christmas breakfast," she suddenly said. "You haven't tried my famous blueberry pancakes yet."
"Uh. . . Susan. . . That's very nice of you, but you'll be drained tomorrow morning. . ."
"Hey, I'm volunteering. Don't waste the chance."
"Besides, I don't think I've got the ingredients. . ."
"Never mind, I've got everything I need here."
"You have?"
Luka couldn't hide the shocked astonishment in his voice. He was touched. Had she really taken all the effort of shopping for a Christmas breakfast with him? And if she had, why hadn't she said anything to him before? Well, maybe it was because she knew he'd try to turn down her invitation. If she caught him by surprise, it was less possible he'd say no.
"Yes, I do. How about me dropping by at eight?"
There was a brief silence, and Susan shifted on her feet. This was getting more and more difficult. Would he say no? If he didn't, then she'd be into deep trouble. She would have to go home and pick the ingredients before heading to Luka's. And what if she didn't have everything she needed back home? Where would she find a convenience store open early on Christmas day?
"Eight will be fine."
Susan breathed in and out.
"All right, see you tomorrow, then," she said, trying to sound cheerful.
"Good night, Susan."
"Hm. I think the line goes 'Merry Christmas'."
She could listen him breath out as he smiled, and she instantly knew she'd been right in following her impulse and inviting herself over for breakfast.
"Merry Christmas, Susan."
"Merry Christmas, Luka."
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"So, tell me, why did you decide to learn Croatian?"
Gillian glared at Matej, who was sitting beside her by the table. She noticed a warm wave hitting her cheeks as she blushed. Geez. Just as they were peaking a great Christmas dinner. . . She blinked a couple of times, smiled and had a sip of wine, trying to make time for Anto or Bojana to intervene. But Bojana was busy talking to one of the old ladies, and Anto had just retreated to the kitchen to get another bottle of wine. She would have to get out of this one by herself.
"Well. . ." She began, and then she was intensely aware of Marija and Rosa studying her. Of course, the old ladies wouldn't slip the chance of getting their hands into gossip material.
"There's this guy I met in the Congo as I volunteered as a nurse with Alliance de Medicines International. I fell in love with him. Then he became really sick and the only language he'd speak was Croatian. So I tried to learn some to understand him."
Matej raised his eyebrows.
"Did you? Really?"
Gillian tried not to roll her eyes. What an intelligent question. Well, she couldn't expect too much from him taking into account the amount of alcohol he'd already put into his system. She had also had a bit too much to drink herself. Otherwise, she would have never been so straightforward.
"Yeah. But when he got well again things didn't work out. My fault, I guess. I assumed he'd feel the same as I did." Gillian's voice was carefully neutral and nonchalant as she went over her story. She shrugged and brushed the next question off, by raising her glass.
"Merry Christmas," she said, addressing all the people around the table.
They all lifted their glasses and toasted with her.
* * * * * * * * * * * * *
"Green Card!" Luka felt the chills run down his spine as the commanding, familiar voice resounded in the hall.
Some days before Luka had made it clear to Romano that he wasn't going to stand being called any more names, but had only got a sneer for an answer. Well, a sneer and a challenge:
"If you find a name for me I really find obnoxious, I'll stop calling you names, Count Vlad. Otherwise you'll just have to develop a thicker skin."
So Luka had started racking his brains. He had soon found out that the worse Croatian insults just washed over the little man. Cutting allusions to his height, baldness, foul temper, selfishness or oversized ego were also ineffective. References to a probable impotence or lack of sexual activity had only prompted a rant of sarcastic comments about Luka's former sexual partners in a volume high enough to be heard from the OR. It had made him work with his sight fixed to the floor for over a week, especially after most of the women in the ER had decided to assure him they thought Romano was the jerk, not him. Not even the boldest invectives about the lack of one arm had worked. And although he had got help from the ER staff, Luka was now sure he'd lost the challenge and he'd never hear the end of Romano's bickering.
He turned around and faced the little doctor, perfectly conscious of the nurses and doctors on the hall. They hadn't stopped their tasks. They didn't provide a willing public for the ever continuing battle of words between the two of them anymore, after having witnessed defeat after defeat on Luka's part. He looked around and then focused on Romano.
"Yes?"
"Well, Igor. I reckon you're getting really good on those crutches. Turning around only took you." He faked a glance at his watch. "About a minute. Would you mind telling me why you haven't discharged Mr. Thompson yet?"
"I'm still waiting on some lab results," answered Luka, looking straight into the eyes of the little man.
"So you DID order them."
Luka sustained Romano's look squarely.
"I can't rule out an internal bleeding on the basis of an abdominal X-ray."
"So that's why you practise a five hundred dollar exam on a homeless man against the express orders of your immediate superior?"
"Isn't this a public hospital?"
"I'm sure you must be nostalgic for the good old days comrade, but I've got news for you: communism is over. Things are not like in former Yugoslavia anymore. Get over it."
Luka suddenly saw red. He hovered over Romano and clutched his crutches with all his strength, trying to overcome the irresistible impulse to knock the other doctor down. He set his jaw tight, and when he thought he could manage an answer without grabbing Romano by lab coat lapels and throwing him against the wall, he took a controlled breath.
"What the hell do YOU know?" He hissed.
"Nothing. Just as much as YOU know about hospital budgets," Romano hissed back. "But you should follow the orders of a superior."
"It is MY patient."
"Not any more, Kovac. You're suspended."
"You can't do that."
"Oh, yes. I can. I can also."
Luka turned briskly around, cutting off whatever Romano intended to say and walked down the corridor.
"Fine," he shouted over his shoulder. "Call me when I'm due back."
