Susan pushed the elevator button again. What was taking it so long? She had to get back down the ER. They were swamped, but then, what else was new?
The click of a pair of crutches behind her, and she turned. "Luka!"
"Hi, Susan," he said quietly. He smiled, but the smile seemed forced. And Susan felt a wave of guilt wash over her. She hadn't seen him in almost two weeks. A short vacation, her first in far too long, then far too many shifts in the ER. She'd called him a few times, but she had only been to his apartment to see him twice in the three weeks since he'd gotten out of the hospital. She had promised herself she would help him, be there for him, and she hadn't been there at all. It had been so much easier when it had just been a matter of running upstairs before or after a shift.
"How's it going?" she asked.
"It's good." Luka pulled up his pant leg a few inches. "Cast came off Monday. Just a brace now."
"Good for you!"
"I feel about twenty pounds lighter." His words were cheerful, but his eyes looked dull. Maybe he'd had a rough session with DeRaad? She knew counseling was still a struggle for him. Or maybe he was lonely. She looked at her watch. "Look ... we're pretty swamped downstairs, but I can squeeze in time for lunch. Do you want to get something to eat?"
"I'm not really hungry."
"I'm not suggesting a 6 course dinner; just a burger or something."
"Ok," Luka agreed. He still didn't sound very enthusiastic. Perhaps he knew that Susan could see through his facade, and so he longer needed to maintain it?
"I'll meet you downstairs in about 20 minutes? I just have to dispo a couple of patients."
"No," Luka said quickly. "I can meet you at the restaurant."
"That's fine. Ike's?" Luka nodded. "I'll see you there in about half an hour."
Susan waited in the entryway. Would he show up? She had been a bit late herself, had gotten corralled into helping the med students. Perhaps he had come, seen she wasn't there, and left again? Thought she'd forgotten him again? Or perhaps he really didn't want to see her. Had agreed just to get rid of her?
The door opened; the slow click of crutches. "Sorry I'm late. I still don't move very fast."
"No problem."
Once seated, she said "I'm sorry Luka."
"For what?" Luka looked puzzled.
"I haven't been around much. I don't want you to think ..."
"You don't have to apologize. I told you ... you don't have to do anything for me."
"And I told you I wanted to. I thought we were friends. Friends help each other."
"Yeah ... each other." Luka didn't try to hide the bitterness in his tone. "What have I done for you lately?"
"You've done enough. You've been good company for me too. I wouldn't choose to spend time with you if I didn't enjoy it. I've just been so busy lately. With you and Carter still off work, and people taking vacations, I've been pulling 7 and 8 shifts a week. I haven't done anything but work and sleep these past few weeks. That, and my own vacation. I told you I was going, didn't I?"
"Yeah, you mentioned it. You still don't have to apologize for anything. I'm doing fine." The waitress came to take their order. When she left, Luka went on, "So, how was it? Your trip?"
"It was nice. Too short, but nice. And the Dells aren't anywhere near as exotic as Africa, but probably more relaxing."
Luka nodded, took a sip of his ice water. For a minute neither spoke. Susan was about to say something more, talk about work, anything to break the silence, change what was clearly still an uncomfortable subject. Then Luka said suddenly, "It wasn't all bad, Susan."
"What?"
"Africa. At first it was great. I loved every minute of it. I'd never worked so hard in my life - 14, 16 hour days, sometimes more, 7 days a week. But it was so ... satisfying. Like I've never gotten from working here. I remember, within a few days of starting, I was already trying to figure out when I'd be able to come back.
"And it was funny ... in so many ways there was so little I could do for my patients. We had almost no equipment, only a handful of drugs ... we had to ... I had to rely on my own skills so much to diagnose them. Couldn't just send them up to x-ray or CT, or order a dozen lab tests on the off chance that something might show up. And then, when I did diagnose the problem, as often as not there was nothing I could do to help ... many of them died anyway, or survived with horrible, disabling injuries." He rubbed his wrists. "But, no matter what I did, how little I could do, they were so grateful for whatever help I could give. Even if it was just holding their hand. And sometimes that seemed to make more of a difference - not just to them, but to me - than all the scrips I write here ... all the high tech stuff."
"It sounds fantastic," Susan said. "Maybe I should give it a try. I could stand a little job satisfaction about now."
The food had come. Luka started to eat his sandwich, didn't respond to Susan's comment. After a few minutes she went on, "Carter sure seems to like it. We got a postcard from him the other day in the ER. He's having a great time, I guess."
"I've gotten a couple of postcards from him too," Luka said. "One back when I was still in the hospital, one just a few days ago."
"Probably sent the same time as ours," Susan guessed.
"Probably. The mail service isn't that great. Mail only goes out a few times a week." Another bite of his sandwich, another sip of Coke. "I'm sure Carter is having a good time. Kisangani's great." A rather distant smile. "Unless of course you're a patient there."
"Unless you have Dr. Kovac to take care of you," Susan teased. Then, "You were there a long time? As a patient?" She had promised herself that she wouldn't pry, but this was the first time he'd said anything about Africa in all these weeks. Maybe a few nonthreatening questions would be ok.
"Long enough. Too long." Another distant smile. "About a month, I guess. So much of it was a fog. Fever, lots of drugs ... I didn't try to count the days. It was easier not to."
"I can see that. So you were ... pretty sick, I guess?"
"Yeah." The word had a firmness, a finality that told Susan that the subject was now closed. Another few moments of silence, then, "I'm going to be letting Maddy go at the end of the week. Now that the cast is off, I don't need her any more."
"Are you sure you can manage on your own? You said yourself that you still move pretty slowly."
"I can manage if I have to." The fierceness, the determination in his voice that she heard so often when he talked about walking.
"I'm sure you'll do great." Susan had finished her own sandwich. "I hate to eat and run, Luka, but I had to practically beg on my knees to get an actual lunch break, instead of just getting a bag of chips and a Coke from the machine and calling it lunch. I need to get back."
"Go," Luka said. "I'll get the check."
"You don't have to,"
"I've got it. I'm not quite done here yet."
"Ok," Susan said. "I'll call you."
"Sure..." Luka said softly. He didn't look at her.
Susan plunged back out into the August heat. She would call him. Though, of course, he could have called her too. Any time. True, she hadn't been home much, but there had been no messages on her machine. Did he want to see her? He did seem happy, or at least happier when they were together. The dullness in his eyes had lightened while they were eating. She knew what she wanted ... but what did he want? And if she asked him, would he tell her? He didn't need or want her help; he'd told her that often enough. But did he want her friendship? That he needed it was obvious. But would he let himself continue to accept it?
