Luka waited until he was sure Nicole was asleep before he went into the bedroom. He didn't want to talk anymore tonight, or deal with her advances. She was asleep, sprawled, as always, across the middle of the bed. He was twice her size, he thought, but she always took up 90% of the bed. Still, he had to smile a little as he slid carefully into the few inches of mattress she'd left for him, careful not to wake her. She looked very beautiful in the moonlight shining through the window. Very beautiful, very innocent, and so very, very young....
She had been so very young. They had both been. Married barely three months; deliriously in love, but very young and very poor. He'd been in school, Danijela supporting both of them on her miserable salary from a low-level office job. Their tiny flat was a single room, furnished only with a bed, a table and chairs, a few shelves and cupboards, and hotplate to cook on. But they had each other, what more did they need?
He had come home that day, exhausted. After climbing the four flights of stairs to their apartment, he'd opened the door to the smell of supper cooking. He remembered having smelled it from down the hall, but had assumed it was from a neighbor's kitchen. Usually supper was just bread and cheese or potatoes. They could rarely afford anything more, and neither of them had the time or energy to cook -- preferring to spend what little energy they did have on each other. But that day, when he opened the door, he saw and smelled odrezak cooking on the little hotplate. A cake adorned the sideboard. The tiny table was set with their best dishes (their wedding gift from Danijela's grandparents, a family heirloom -- bombed to dust with the rest of their Vukovar apartment now....), and there were roses in a vase in the center of the table. And, more beautiful than the roses was Danijela herself, sitting and waiting for him, her face radiant, eyes shining with excitement.
"What's all this?" he had asked.
"A little celebration."
"Just what are we celebrating?" He had been so tired, too tired to care really ... and he couldn't help tallying up the cost of the pork and the ham and the cake ... but he'd tried to be interested, for Danijela's sake.
A little hesitation, a teasing smile -- as if she was trying to draw out the suspense -- or maybe she was going to make him guess (Lord... he wasn't in the mood for games ...) then her excitement had bubbled over.
"We're going to have a baby!" she had cried.
And -- for just an instant -- too brief for Danijela to have known (Luka was sure she had never known -- it may have the only secret he had ever kept from her) -- his reaction had been one of utter dismay. A baby? Now? How could they afford a baby so soon? They were barely surviving with just the two of them. How could they possibly feed three? He still had to finish school, and his internship ....
Then, he had looked into Danijela's eyes, and seen the pure joy there, and his doubts had melted away. He'd let out a whoop so loud that he was sure the neighbors 3 flats over and 2 floors down had heard him (one of them had, in fact, commented on it the next day!), and scooped her up in a bone crushing hug. And the odrezak had almost burned while they enjoyed the *other* part of their celebration.
As the months and years had passed, he had often remembered that instant of doubt and wondered how he could ever have felt it. Because, from then on, there had been only joy; watching Danijela grow and blossom in her pregnancy, feeling the tiny movements growing stronger through her growing belly, and laughing with her at the sight of the tiny feet and hands pummeling through the taut skin. And doing it all again, three years later, with Marko. And, of course, the only two times in his life he had ever cried from pure happiness -- when they had placed Jasna, and then Marko, in his arms for the first time. And too, there were the entirely different, but just as wonderful pleasures of watching his children grow, marveling at how much like him and Danijela they were, and yet, how much they were their own people, with their own, distinct personalities. Two perfect individuals.
Luka snapped out of his reverie, aware that tears were wetting his face. No matter how happy the story, and how often he told it to himself, it never did have a happy ending, did it? Jasna would always be a bright eyed 4-year-old, Marko a giggling toddler. He would never watch them grow any more. And Danijela -- the houseful of children they had talked about so often "when the war is over" -- that would never be either.
What had Nicole said to him earlier that evening? 'I don't even know if you like children, or want them?' God.... he loved children, and wanted children. *His* children, Jasna and Marko. But they were dead, long dead. He could never have them again. But here was another child, and it was his child too.
No, it wasn't the ideal situation. Luka wasn't going to try and fool himself for a moment. This was *not* what he had imagined when he had thought about having a family again some day -- but when were things ever ideal? Sometimes, you had to take what life gave you. Certainly things were better in so many ways than they had been that day in their tiny one room flat. He had a good job with a good salary and benefits. Nicole would have the best prenatal care. He could provide for Nicole and his baby.
His baby. Unexpectedly, the words made him smile, really smile, for the first time that evening. It would be ok. Somehow, everything would be ok. Luka felt the tension leave his body, and he closed his eyes and was quickly asleep.
TO BE CONTINUED...
She had been so very young. They had both been. Married barely three months; deliriously in love, but very young and very poor. He'd been in school, Danijela supporting both of them on her miserable salary from a low-level office job. Their tiny flat was a single room, furnished only with a bed, a table and chairs, a few shelves and cupboards, and hotplate to cook on. But they had each other, what more did they need?
He had come home that day, exhausted. After climbing the four flights of stairs to their apartment, he'd opened the door to the smell of supper cooking. He remembered having smelled it from down the hall, but had assumed it was from a neighbor's kitchen. Usually supper was just bread and cheese or potatoes. They could rarely afford anything more, and neither of them had the time or energy to cook -- preferring to spend what little energy they did have on each other. But that day, when he opened the door, he saw and smelled odrezak cooking on the little hotplate. A cake adorned the sideboard. The tiny table was set with their best dishes (their wedding gift from Danijela's grandparents, a family heirloom -- bombed to dust with the rest of their Vukovar apartment now....), and there were roses in a vase in the center of the table. And, more beautiful than the roses was Danijela herself, sitting and waiting for him, her face radiant, eyes shining with excitement.
"What's all this?" he had asked.
"A little celebration."
"Just what are we celebrating?" He had been so tired, too tired to care really ... and he couldn't help tallying up the cost of the pork and the ham and the cake ... but he'd tried to be interested, for Danijela's sake.
A little hesitation, a teasing smile -- as if she was trying to draw out the suspense -- or maybe she was going to make him guess (Lord... he wasn't in the mood for games ...) then her excitement had bubbled over.
"We're going to have a baby!" she had cried.
And -- for just an instant -- too brief for Danijela to have known (Luka was sure she had never known -- it may have the only secret he had ever kept from her) -- his reaction had been one of utter dismay. A baby? Now? How could they afford a baby so soon? They were barely surviving with just the two of them. How could they possibly feed three? He still had to finish school, and his internship ....
Then, he had looked into Danijela's eyes, and seen the pure joy there, and his doubts had melted away. He'd let out a whoop so loud that he was sure the neighbors 3 flats over and 2 floors down had heard him (one of them had, in fact, commented on it the next day!), and scooped her up in a bone crushing hug. And the odrezak had almost burned while they enjoyed the *other* part of their celebration.
As the months and years had passed, he had often remembered that instant of doubt and wondered how he could ever have felt it. Because, from then on, there had been only joy; watching Danijela grow and blossom in her pregnancy, feeling the tiny movements growing stronger through her growing belly, and laughing with her at the sight of the tiny feet and hands pummeling through the taut skin. And doing it all again, three years later, with Marko. And, of course, the only two times in his life he had ever cried from pure happiness -- when they had placed Jasna, and then Marko, in his arms for the first time. And too, there were the entirely different, but just as wonderful pleasures of watching his children grow, marveling at how much like him and Danijela they were, and yet, how much they were their own people, with their own, distinct personalities. Two perfect individuals.
Luka snapped out of his reverie, aware that tears were wetting his face. No matter how happy the story, and how often he told it to himself, it never did have a happy ending, did it? Jasna would always be a bright eyed 4-year-old, Marko a giggling toddler. He would never watch them grow any more. And Danijela -- the houseful of children they had talked about so often "when the war is over" -- that would never be either.
What had Nicole said to him earlier that evening? 'I don't even know if you like children, or want them?' God.... he loved children, and wanted children. *His* children, Jasna and Marko. But they were dead, long dead. He could never have them again. But here was another child, and it was his child too.
No, it wasn't the ideal situation. Luka wasn't going to try and fool himself for a moment. This was *not* what he had imagined when he had thought about having a family again some day -- but when were things ever ideal? Sometimes, you had to take what life gave you. Certainly things were better in so many ways than they had been that day in their tiny one room flat. He had a good job with a good salary and benefits. Nicole would have the best prenatal care. He could provide for Nicole and his baby.
His baby. Unexpectedly, the words made him smile, really smile, for the first time that evening. It would be ok. Somehow, everything would be ok. Luka felt the tension leave his body, and he closed his eyes and was quickly asleep.
TO BE CONTINUED...