Luka rose from the couch, limped restlessly around the room for a minute, then sat back down again, exhausted. "I just don't know if I can. It's not that I don't want to; to be happy ... to make you happy ... to have a life again ... while I still have the chance. But it's so hard. I worked so hard and so long with Carl, it hurt so much to just scrape the surface. To do enough to make a difference, I don't know if I can do that." He looked at her, and his eyes were frightened now. "And what if I do try, and go through all the pain ... and it doesn't make a difference? Or I die before I get far enough? I don't need more pain now, Susan."
"Will it be more pain? Or just different pain?" Susan asked quietly.
Luka looked at her, then put his palm on her wet cheek, let it rest there a moment. He had never done that before. Seemed to be surprised at himself. "I can't promise you anything."
"Just try, Luka. That's the only thing I'm asking. And not for me, for you."
"I'll try. But my way first. Let me try to do this on my own. Maybe just knowing that I have a reason to try will be enough to make a difference. No more counseling ... trying to talk to strangers about this stuff."
"Whatever works," Susan assured him.
Luka gave her a tired smile, then said. "But not today. I'm tired, I think I need to go to bed now." His smile broadened a little. "Alone."
"You should eat something first," Susan said, and Luka nodded. "Why don't you get ready for bed; I'll fix you something and bring it to you."
Luka took his crutch and started slowly for the bedroom while Susan went to the kitchen. There were cans of soup in the cupboard. The bread had gone moldy in the two weeks, but there was an open box of crackers spilled across the counter. One of the tubes was still sealed and fresh.
Carrying the soup and crackers on a tray, Susan went to the bedroom and tapped on the half-shut door. "Decent?" she called.
"Yeah. Come in."
Luka was sitting on the bed in his shorts and a tee shirt. "Clam chowder and crackers. You need groceries again."
"I'm bad about that. Always have been. Comes from living alone."
"I know what you mean. Easier to just eat out, isn't it, or order in, than to cook for yourself all the time."
"Less depressing, certainly," Luka agreed.
Susan was looking at Luka's leg, she couldn't help it. She had seen it in the ER, when they had cut his clothes off, but in the heat and worry of the moment, she hadn't really noticed it.
"Attractive, isn't it." Luka said quietly.
"I've seen worse." But Susan, in all honesty, couldn't think when she had. A broad band of ridged and puckered scar tissue ran from the ankle, disappearing under the hem of his shorts. There seemed to be little muscle left in the calf, and thick scars masked the form of the knee joint.
"It isn't pretty," Luka reiterrated. "But it's mine." He tasted the soup. "They were going to amputate. I wouldn't let them. I nearly died rather than let them amputate."
Susan could just nod. Luka quietly ate his dinner. When he was done Susan said, "I thought I might stay on the couch again tonight. You shouldn't be alone your first night home. You still aren't really well yet."
"That's fine."
Another awkward silence. They were supposed to be becoming more comfortable together, not less, thought Susan. Luka lay down, pulled the comforter over himself. Susan wanted so badly to lie down beside him ... hold him. Or at least kiss him good-night. But she couldn't rush him. Now, more than ever, she had to let him set the pace. She knew how hard even these little things must be for him now.
"Do you have something I could wear to sleep in?"
"Tee shirts are in the second drawer."
Susan found a tee shirt, and went into the bathroom to change. When she emerged, Luka looked at her and smiled. "Looks cute on you."
"Not quite my size." The shirt hung past her knees.
"Still looks cute on you." He lay down again. "Good night."
"Good-night. Sleep well." Susan started to leave the room, reached for the light switch at the door.
"Leave it on!" Luka said quickly. He sat up again, looked embarrassed. "I sleep with it on now," he said. "I ummm.... at Matenda, all those days ... I couldn't see. There was something wrong with my eyes and all I could see were shadows and darkness. Then when I was in the hospital, in Kisangani, and then here, there was always a light on in my room, at least a small one, so the nurses could see to take care of me. And now, I can't sleep in the dark anymore. I guess I've gotten to be afraid of the dark." He looked down at his hands. "Stupid, isn't it? A grown man, and I'm afraid of the dark."
"It's not stupid at all," Susan assured him. "The dark can be a pretty scary place. Especially when you don't know what's happening ... what's in it."
"They ... came for me in the dark," Luka added softly. He sighed, and lay down once again.
It was still early. Susan wasn't tired. She found a magazine and tried to read, but she couldn't concentrate. Had Luka meant it? Was he really going to try? Or had he said it just to make her happy? Just to get her off his back? Would the next step be to push her away? Still, it seemed promising. He had opened up to her already, far more than he'd done in the past months. He'd told her about Africa. (As horrible as it had been to hear, Susan knew she needed to know it, and she knew that he had needed to tell her.) He had let her see his leg, indeed, seemed to have made it a point to have let her see it. (Perhaps he thought that once she saw it, she might rethink an intimate relationship? That the sight of it would turn her off?)
Suddenly from the bedroom came a sharp cry. Susan jumped to her feet, the magazine hit the floor. She ran to the door. Luka was twisting on the bed, alternately muttering incoherently in several different languages, and crying out in pain.
A nightmare. The same nightmare he'd had two weeks before. The same nightmare he'd had six months ago in the hospital. And how many hundred times in between? A nightmare that was now, to Susan, even more agonizing to hear, because now she knew what it meant. Now she knew what he was experiencing as he slept night after night.
"No ... please ... stop ... oh God ... molim ... molim ..." Tears wet his closed lashes, his back arched, his fists were clenched.
Susan knew she should leave, go back to the other room. He was ok, he was just dreaming. But she couldn't leave him in such pain. Not any more. Her feet were carrying her forward and she sat down cautiously on the edge of the bed. She didn't touch him, she knew that a touch would only panic him more, not comfort him.
"Let it go, Luka ..." she whispered. "You have got to let this go. You don't have to allow them to do this you any more. You are safe now. They can't hurt you now. Let it go ... please ..." And then she had to press her fists to her mouth to stop the sobs that were coming, loud enough to wake him if they continued.
And suddenly his story came back to her. His words. 'I couldn't stand up to the treatment. I kept fainting. So they beat me. I was crying. I was screaming ... and so they raped me..'.Not 'then they beat me ... then they raped me.' But 'so' they beat me ... so they raped me.' Is that what he believed? That they had done those things because of something he had done? Is that why he was still tormenting himself over it? Did he truly believe he had earned what had happened to him?
Gradually Luka grew quieter. Susan didn't know if the nightmare had finally ended, or it had just entered a different phase ... if something was happening to him now which just didn't make him call out aloud. He continued to shift restlessly for a while, then that too finally stopped, and he slept quietly, apparently exhausted by his ordeal. Did he go through this every night? How was he surviving?
Susan sat on the bed and just watched him sleep. When, after a few hours, Luka began to dream again, to move and talk in his sleep, she said softly, "Hush, sweetheart. It's ok. Just sleep ..." and he grew quiet again.
----
Sometime before dawn, Luka stirred. At first Susan thought it was another dream starting, but he opened his eyes, blinked sleepily at her, confused at seeing her there. Then he seemed to remember.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"About 5. Go back to sleep."
"You ... have a shift?"
"Not today."
"Why are you up?"
"Just watching you sleep." Susan smiled.
"Been sitting there all night?"
"Yup."
"Must be tired."
"A little bit," Susan admitted.
Luka patted the bed beside him. "Lie down. Get some sleep." A sleepy smile. "I won't take advantage. I promise."
"You sure it's ok?"
"Umm hmmm." Another smile. "And you can tell everyone we slept together."
"They'll be so jealous." Susan smiled back, then lay down under the comforter beside Luka. He smiled at her once more, closed his eyes, and was asleep again.
She still wanted so badly to put her arms around him ... he looked so frail; the salt from his tears was still dried on his lashes ... but she settled for touching the hand that rested on the pillow. He didn't pull away. And as Susan drifted off to sleep herself, she thought that if she could never have anything more than this; lying beside him, touching his hand while they slept, it would be enough. Just so she could have it forever.
"Will it be more pain? Or just different pain?" Susan asked quietly.
Luka looked at her, then put his palm on her wet cheek, let it rest there a moment. He had never done that before. Seemed to be surprised at himself. "I can't promise you anything."
"Just try, Luka. That's the only thing I'm asking. And not for me, for you."
"I'll try. But my way first. Let me try to do this on my own. Maybe just knowing that I have a reason to try will be enough to make a difference. No more counseling ... trying to talk to strangers about this stuff."
"Whatever works," Susan assured him.
Luka gave her a tired smile, then said. "But not today. I'm tired, I think I need to go to bed now." His smile broadened a little. "Alone."
"You should eat something first," Susan said, and Luka nodded. "Why don't you get ready for bed; I'll fix you something and bring it to you."
Luka took his crutch and started slowly for the bedroom while Susan went to the kitchen. There were cans of soup in the cupboard. The bread had gone moldy in the two weeks, but there was an open box of crackers spilled across the counter. One of the tubes was still sealed and fresh.
Carrying the soup and crackers on a tray, Susan went to the bedroom and tapped on the half-shut door. "Decent?" she called.
"Yeah. Come in."
Luka was sitting on the bed in his shorts and a tee shirt. "Clam chowder and crackers. You need groceries again."
"I'm bad about that. Always have been. Comes from living alone."
"I know what you mean. Easier to just eat out, isn't it, or order in, than to cook for yourself all the time."
"Less depressing, certainly," Luka agreed.
Susan was looking at Luka's leg, she couldn't help it. She had seen it in the ER, when they had cut his clothes off, but in the heat and worry of the moment, she hadn't really noticed it.
"Attractive, isn't it." Luka said quietly.
"I've seen worse." But Susan, in all honesty, couldn't think when she had. A broad band of ridged and puckered scar tissue ran from the ankle, disappearing under the hem of his shorts. There seemed to be little muscle left in the calf, and thick scars masked the form of the knee joint.
"It isn't pretty," Luka reiterrated. "But it's mine." He tasted the soup. "They were going to amputate. I wouldn't let them. I nearly died rather than let them amputate."
Susan could just nod. Luka quietly ate his dinner. When he was done Susan said, "I thought I might stay on the couch again tonight. You shouldn't be alone your first night home. You still aren't really well yet."
"That's fine."
Another awkward silence. They were supposed to be becoming more comfortable together, not less, thought Susan. Luka lay down, pulled the comforter over himself. Susan wanted so badly to lie down beside him ... hold him. Or at least kiss him good-night. But she couldn't rush him. Now, more than ever, she had to let him set the pace. She knew how hard even these little things must be for him now.
"Do you have something I could wear to sleep in?"
"Tee shirts are in the second drawer."
Susan found a tee shirt, and went into the bathroom to change. When she emerged, Luka looked at her and smiled. "Looks cute on you."
"Not quite my size." The shirt hung past her knees.
"Still looks cute on you." He lay down again. "Good night."
"Good-night. Sleep well." Susan started to leave the room, reached for the light switch at the door.
"Leave it on!" Luka said quickly. He sat up again, looked embarrassed. "I sleep with it on now," he said. "I ummm.... at Matenda, all those days ... I couldn't see. There was something wrong with my eyes and all I could see were shadows and darkness. Then when I was in the hospital, in Kisangani, and then here, there was always a light on in my room, at least a small one, so the nurses could see to take care of me. And now, I can't sleep in the dark anymore. I guess I've gotten to be afraid of the dark." He looked down at his hands. "Stupid, isn't it? A grown man, and I'm afraid of the dark."
"It's not stupid at all," Susan assured him. "The dark can be a pretty scary place. Especially when you don't know what's happening ... what's in it."
"They ... came for me in the dark," Luka added softly. He sighed, and lay down once again.
It was still early. Susan wasn't tired. She found a magazine and tried to read, but she couldn't concentrate. Had Luka meant it? Was he really going to try? Or had he said it just to make her happy? Just to get her off his back? Would the next step be to push her away? Still, it seemed promising. He had opened up to her already, far more than he'd done in the past months. He'd told her about Africa. (As horrible as it had been to hear, Susan knew she needed to know it, and she knew that he had needed to tell her.) He had let her see his leg, indeed, seemed to have made it a point to have let her see it. (Perhaps he thought that once she saw it, she might rethink an intimate relationship? That the sight of it would turn her off?)
Suddenly from the bedroom came a sharp cry. Susan jumped to her feet, the magazine hit the floor. She ran to the door. Luka was twisting on the bed, alternately muttering incoherently in several different languages, and crying out in pain.
A nightmare. The same nightmare he'd had two weeks before. The same nightmare he'd had six months ago in the hospital. And how many hundred times in between? A nightmare that was now, to Susan, even more agonizing to hear, because now she knew what it meant. Now she knew what he was experiencing as he slept night after night.
"No ... please ... stop ... oh God ... molim ... molim ..." Tears wet his closed lashes, his back arched, his fists were clenched.
Susan knew she should leave, go back to the other room. He was ok, he was just dreaming. But she couldn't leave him in such pain. Not any more. Her feet were carrying her forward and she sat down cautiously on the edge of the bed. She didn't touch him, she knew that a touch would only panic him more, not comfort him.
"Let it go, Luka ..." she whispered. "You have got to let this go. You don't have to allow them to do this you any more. You are safe now. They can't hurt you now. Let it go ... please ..." And then she had to press her fists to her mouth to stop the sobs that were coming, loud enough to wake him if they continued.
And suddenly his story came back to her. His words. 'I couldn't stand up to the treatment. I kept fainting. So they beat me. I was crying. I was screaming ... and so they raped me..'.Not 'then they beat me ... then they raped me.' But 'so' they beat me ... so they raped me.' Is that what he believed? That they had done those things because of something he had done? Is that why he was still tormenting himself over it? Did he truly believe he had earned what had happened to him?
Gradually Luka grew quieter. Susan didn't know if the nightmare had finally ended, or it had just entered a different phase ... if something was happening to him now which just didn't make him call out aloud. He continued to shift restlessly for a while, then that too finally stopped, and he slept quietly, apparently exhausted by his ordeal. Did he go through this every night? How was he surviving?
Susan sat on the bed and just watched him sleep. When, after a few hours, Luka began to dream again, to move and talk in his sleep, she said softly, "Hush, sweetheart. It's ok. Just sleep ..." and he grew quiet again.
----
Sometime before dawn, Luka stirred. At first Susan thought it was another dream starting, but he opened his eyes, blinked sleepily at her, confused at seeing her there. Then he seemed to remember.
"What time is it?" he asked.
"About 5. Go back to sleep."
"You ... have a shift?"
"Not today."
"Why are you up?"
"Just watching you sleep." Susan smiled.
"Been sitting there all night?"
"Yup."
"Must be tired."
"A little bit," Susan admitted.
Luka patted the bed beside him. "Lie down. Get some sleep." A sleepy smile. "I won't take advantage. I promise."
"You sure it's ok?"
"Umm hmmm." Another smile. "And you can tell everyone we slept together."
"They'll be so jealous." Susan smiled back, then lay down under the comforter beside Luka. He smiled at her once more, closed his eyes, and was asleep again.
She still wanted so badly to put her arms around him ... he looked so frail; the salt from his tears was still dried on his lashes ... but she settled for touching the hand that rested on the pillow. He didn't pull away. And as Susan drifted off to sleep herself, she thought that if she could never have anything more than this; lying beside him, touching his hand while they slept, it would be enough. Just so she could have it forever.
