Abby rubbed her sore hip. It had all happened in an instant. Luka's hand had slipped from the door frame, and he had fallen down the steps, taking her with him. She was still sitting, but on the sidewalk. And it no longer seemed to be so funny anymore.
Luka was still lying on his back, a few feet away from her.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"I think so." He sounded a little breathless. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." But he still made no attempt to sit up. "Are you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little bruised. Are you sure you're ok? That was a pretty hard fall." All Abby could think of was how she was going to get him help if he was badly hurt.
"I'm ok," Luka repeated. "Just let me get my breath back." After a minute Luka started to sit up, and winced in pain.
"What's wrong?" Abby asked quickly.
"Bruised my elbow. It's ok." He smiled at her, but it wasn't very convincing. Abby looked at the door, only a few steps away. It might as well as been a mile, she thought.
"How are we going to get back inside?"
"Very carefully?" Obeying his own words, Luka got, very carefully, to his knees. Abby couldn't help noticing that he wasn't using his right arm at all. He looked for a long minute at the steps. There was a handrail, but it was as slick as the pavement, and would be of little help in getting them back up safely. "I'm open to suggestions," he finally said.
"Got any salt in your pocket?" It wasn't much of a joke.
"'fraid not. We need something to roughen the surface a little." Luka started to reach into his pocket, then switched hands, reaching across his body to take his keys out of his right coat pocket.
"You're really hurt, aren't you?"
"I don't know," Luka admitted. "It hurts. We'll check it when we get inside." He tossed her the key. "See if you can use that to chip at the ice a little; make a patch we can walk on."
He must be hurt, thought Abby, if he wasn't doing the work himself. She scratched and chipped at the ice with the key, making, as Luka had asked, a small patch on each step. It was hard work, and she was almost warm when she finally reached the top step. Luka, who was just sitting and watching her, must be freezing though. It couldn't be much above zero. Fahrenheit.
She helped Luka to his feet and slowly, carefully, they made their way successfully back to the door. Once inside, Abby closed it behind them and they climbed the dark stairs back to the apartment.
The room felt almost warm, at least compared to the outside. But Abby knew she'd be cold again soon enough. She threw herself down on the couch. "I think I would sell my soul for a hot bath about now," she said. She was sore all over.
Then she remembered Luka. He had unbuttoned his coat and was trying to get it off without bending his right arm. As sore as she felt, he must be hurting much worse, she knew.
"Let's check that arm," she said, and helped Luka get his coat off.
"It's ok. Just a bad bruise, I think." But he couldn't help wincing, and drawing in a sharp intake of air as she carefully pushed his sleeve up over his elbow. And she winced a little herself. Luka's arm was already starting to swell, and turn some interesting colors around the elbow.
"Can you bend it?" she asked. Luka tried, and winced again.
"I can, but I don't think I want to."
"Wiggle your fingers? Make a fist?"
Luka obeyed, then said, "Hey, who's the doctor here anyway?" He smiled at her again.
"Shut up," Abby said, and smiled back at him as she completed the exam. "Neuro and circ are intact, but it looks like it might be broken."
Luka shook his head. "I don't think so. Just sprained or bruised. I'll ice it for a while. It will feel better. See if we have any ice ..." and he couldn't help laughing a little despite the pain.
Abby had to laugh too. Amazing what a little ethanol would do. "Haven't we had enough ice for one day?" But she went to the fridge. The ice maker of course wasn't functioning, and there were no ice cube trays in the freezer. "No ice," she said, and started laughing again. After a moment though, the look of pain on Luka's face, a look that he was doing his best to hide, made her sober again. "You need to get it x-rayed."
"With what? The handy little x-ray machine I keep in the bathroom?"
"We'll call 911. There have to be ambulances running by now."
"Probably. And they're needed by people with problems a lot worse than a sore arm. If it still hurts when the ice melts, I'll get it checked then."
"I'm sorry, Luka," Abby said. "We shouldn't have gone out."
"It's not your fault. I went out too, remember? Are you sure that you're not hurt? You took a good spill too."
"I'm just sore. Nothing that a long hot bath and a couple of hours of massage won't cure."
"Neither of which are available. Though I could try the massage. I do have one arm available for use."
"No thanks." Abby started for the kitchen again, where the case of beer beckoned. Lacking heat or massage, maybe a little booze. Then she stopped herself. 'No,' she told herself firmly. 'You've had enough beer for one morning.' To cover herself, she headed again for the fish tank. "So, what are we going to do about the fish?" They were still floating. Still very dead.
"What did you have in mind? Fried? Broiled?"
"Ha ha. I was just wondering," Abby explained, "how long we're going to leave them floating in the tank."
"Toilet's in the bathroom. Feel free."
Beneath his lighthearted words, Abby detected an undertone of something in his voice, but wasn't sure what it was. Irritation? Sadness? Or maybe just the pain from his arm.
"Don't you feel bad about them?"
"About what? They're fish, Abby, just fish. They were relaxing to watch in the evenings, but they didn't fetch the newspaper, or keep me warm at night ..." Luka trailed off and was silent for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I feel bad. I was responsible for them, you know?"
He rose abruptly from his seat and went into the kitchen. He didn't hesitate before taking a bottle from the case on the counter. "Open that for me, would you?"
"Weren't you the one saying yesterday that we shouldn't drink too much in the cold?"
"My arm hurts. I don't have anything in the house for pain but Tylenol -- and alcohol." He sounded more than a little bit testy now, and Abby opened the bottle. He took it over the window and stood there looking out, taking long swallows. Abby tried to guess what he was thinking -- she was sure it had little to do with fish.
Luka was still lying on his back, a few feet away from her.
"Are you ok?" she asked.
"I think so." He sounded a little breathless. "Just got the wind knocked out of me." But he still made no attempt to sit up. "Are you?"
"Yeah, I'm fine. Just a little bruised. Are you sure you're ok? That was a pretty hard fall." All Abby could think of was how she was going to get him help if he was badly hurt.
"I'm ok," Luka repeated. "Just let me get my breath back." After a minute Luka started to sit up, and winced in pain.
"What's wrong?" Abby asked quickly.
"Bruised my elbow. It's ok." He smiled at her, but it wasn't very convincing. Abby looked at the door, only a few steps away. It might as well as been a mile, she thought.
"How are we going to get back inside?"
"Very carefully?" Obeying his own words, Luka got, very carefully, to his knees. Abby couldn't help noticing that he wasn't using his right arm at all. He looked for a long minute at the steps. There was a handrail, but it was as slick as the pavement, and would be of little help in getting them back up safely. "I'm open to suggestions," he finally said.
"Got any salt in your pocket?" It wasn't much of a joke.
"'fraid not. We need something to roughen the surface a little." Luka started to reach into his pocket, then switched hands, reaching across his body to take his keys out of his right coat pocket.
"You're really hurt, aren't you?"
"I don't know," Luka admitted. "It hurts. We'll check it when we get inside." He tossed her the key. "See if you can use that to chip at the ice a little; make a patch we can walk on."
He must be hurt, thought Abby, if he wasn't doing the work himself. She scratched and chipped at the ice with the key, making, as Luka had asked, a small patch on each step. It was hard work, and she was almost warm when she finally reached the top step. Luka, who was just sitting and watching her, must be freezing though. It couldn't be much above zero. Fahrenheit.
She helped Luka to his feet and slowly, carefully, they made their way successfully back to the door. Once inside, Abby closed it behind them and they climbed the dark stairs back to the apartment.
The room felt almost warm, at least compared to the outside. But Abby knew she'd be cold again soon enough. She threw herself down on the couch. "I think I would sell my soul for a hot bath about now," she said. She was sore all over.
Then she remembered Luka. He had unbuttoned his coat and was trying to get it off without bending his right arm. As sore as she felt, he must be hurting much worse, she knew.
"Let's check that arm," she said, and helped Luka get his coat off.
"It's ok. Just a bad bruise, I think." But he couldn't help wincing, and drawing in a sharp intake of air as she carefully pushed his sleeve up over his elbow. And she winced a little herself. Luka's arm was already starting to swell, and turn some interesting colors around the elbow.
"Can you bend it?" she asked. Luka tried, and winced again.
"I can, but I don't think I want to."
"Wiggle your fingers? Make a fist?"
Luka obeyed, then said, "Hey, who's the doctor here anyway?" He smiled at her again.
"Shut up," Abby said, and smiled back at him as she completed the exam. "Neuro and circ are intact, but it looks like it might be broken."
Luka shook his head. "I don't think so. Just sprained or bruised. I'll ice it for a while. It will feel better. See if we have any ice ..." and he couldn't help laughing a little despite the pain.
Abby had to laugh too. Amazing what a little ethanol would do. "Haven't we had enough ice for one day?" But she went to the fridge. The ice maker of course wasn't functioning, and there were no ice cube trays in the freezer. "No ice," she said, and started laughing again. After a moment though, the look of pain on Luka's face, a look that he was doing his best to hide, made her sober again. "You need to get it x-rayed."
"With what? The handy little x-ray machine I keep in the bathroom?"
"We'll call 911. There have to be ambulances running by now."
"Probably. And they're needed by people with problems a lot worse than a sore arm. If it still hurts when the ice melts, I'll get it checked then."
"I'm sorry, Luka," Abby said. "We shouldn't have gone out."
"It's not your fault. I went out too, remember? Are you sure that you're not hurt? You took a good spill too."
"I'm just sore. Nothing that a long hot bath and a couple of hours of massage won't cure."
"Neither of which are available. Though I could try the massage. I do have one arm available for use."
"No thanks." Abby started for the kitchen again, where the case of beer beckoned. Lacking heat or massage, maybe a little booze. Then she stopped herself. 'No,' she told herself firmly. 'You've had enough beer for one morning.' To cover herself, she headed again for the fish tank. "So, what are we going to do about the fish?" They were still floating. Still very dead.
"What did you have in mind? Fried? Broiled?"
"Ha ha. I was just wondering," Abby explained, "how long we're going to leave them floating in the tank."
"Toilet's in the bathroom. Feel free."
Beneath his lighthearted words, Abby detected an undertone of something in his voice, but wasn't sure what it was. Irritation? Sadness? Or maybe just the pain from his arm.
"Don't you feel bad about them?"
"About what? They're fish, Abby, just fish. They were relaxing to watch in the evenings, but they didn't fetch the newspaper, or keep me warm at night ..." Luka trailed off and was silent for a moment, then said, "Yeah, I feel bad. I was responsible for them, you know?"
He rose abruptly from his seat and went into the kitchen. He didn't hesitate before taking a bottle from the case on the counter. "Open that for me, would you?"
"Weren't you the one saying yesterday that we shouldn't drink too much in the cold?"
"My arm hurts. I don't have anything in the house for pain but Tylenol -- and alcohol." He sounded more than a little bit testy now, and Abby opened the bottle. He took it over the window and stood there looking out, taking long swallows. Abby tried to guess what he was thinking -- she was sure it had little to do with fish.