[So, this is a really short chapter after such a long wait. It's sort of a transitional chapter. Things will start to wrap up in the next one ... which should be posted a little more promptly.]
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Abby heard footsteps behind her. "This is the last of the instant coffee," she said, not turning around.
"We're lucky I had any at all. I usually don't drink the stuff, but Nicole bought a jar for some reason. I meant to throw it out after she left."
"Well, at least we have a little left for medicinal purposes," Abby joked. She started to reach for a mug, to pour Luka's coffee, then froze as an arm draped over her shoulder, and a chin rested on top of her head. Her head nestled comfortably into the curve of his throat It was a perfect fit, and made Abby want to scream. But she just said, "Do you mind?"
Luka sighed and stepped backwards, and Abby quickly poured his coffee and handed it to him. "Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?" she asked.
"Not right now." Luka warmed his hands around the cup. "Can we talk about this?"
Abby didn't answer. She pretended to warm her own hands over the dying fire, looked out the window. Nothing had changed outside. Ice still coated everything, and they still might have been the only people alive in the city. The sky was gray again this morning. She poured her own coffee.
"We really should see about getting that arm looked at. There must be some way of getting you to the hospital. We could call County ..."
"The battery is dead in my cell phone," Luka said. "There's no way to make a call. But it's ok. It doesn't hurt any more than yesterday, and neuro function is still fine in my hand." He paused, sipped his coffee. "So ... about last night?"
Abby shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about. We both got drunk, lost control and did something really stupid. It's done, it will never happen again, and there's nothing more to say about it. Now, let me enjoy my hangover in peace, ok?" She took her coffee to the armchair and sat down. Luka, to her relief, took the couch. It was hard to know if the pained look in his eyes was from his own hangover, his arm, or something else.
For a few minutes they drank their coffee in silence. Abby desperately wanted to go home. Facing Brian again would be a picnic compared to this.
"I didn't lose control, Abby," Luka finally said quietly. "I was drunk, but not that drunk. I thought you wanted it. I thought ... something had changed."
"Nothing has changed." Abby's voice was short and crisp. She kept her eyes on her cup. If she looked at Luka, he would know she was lying. Because things had changed, just not in the way he seemed to think. Things were worse. Much worse.
"So you're going to tell me that you had no idea what you were doing? That you were totally out of control?"
"I was drunk; really drunk. What do you think?"
Luka didn't answer for a minute. "I think that you knew exactly what you were doing. I know that I've never seen you get drunk before. You never used to drink at all. So, I think you got drunk on purpose ... and not just because of the damn fish."
"You started the drinking business, don't forget. You're the one who turned the stupid funeral into an Irish wake. I mean ... I couldn't let you drink alone, could I? And besides, you aren't exactly famous for your control, are you? Didn't you say that the thing with Nicole 'just happened?' So maybe last night 'just happened' for you too."
Luka looked pained again, and didn't answer. 'Touche,' Abby thought, but somehow it didn't make her feel any better. She rose and went back to the grill for more coffee; then remembered that there wasn't any more. No more coffee. No more beer. No more cigarettes. Not even a shower. And who knew how many more days trapped in this apartment with Luka.
She picked up the radio and turned it on, and tried to hear the weather report through the static. The battery wouldn't last much longer. And neither would she.
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Abby heard footsteps behind her. "This is the last of the instant coffee," she said, not turning around.
"We're lucky I had any at all. I usually don't drink the stuff, but Nicole bought a jar for some reason. I meant to throw it out after she left."
"Well, at least we have a little left for medicinal purposes," Abby joked. She started to reach for a mug, to pour Luka's coffee, then froze as an arm draped over her shoulder, and a chin rested on top of her head. Her head nestled comfortably into the curve of his throat It was a perfect fit, and made Abby want to scream. But she just said, "Do you mind?"
Luka sighed and stepped backwards, and Abby quickly poured his coffee and handed it to him. "Are you sure you don't want to eat anything?" she asked.
"Not right now." Luka warmed his hands around the cup. "Can we talk about this?"
Abby didn't answer. She pretended to warm her own hands over the dying fire, looked out the window. Nothing had changed outside. Ice still coated everything, and they still might have been the only people alive in the city. The sky was gray again this morning. She poured her own coffee.
"We really should see about getting that arm looked at. There must be some way of getting you to the hospital. We could call County ..."
"The battery is dead in my cell phone," Luka said. "There's no way to make a call. But it's ok. It doesn't hurt any more than yesterday, and neuro function is still fine in my hand." He paused, sipped his coffee. "So ... about last night?"
Abby shook her head. "There's nothing to talk about. We both got drunk, lost control and did something really stupid. It's done, it will never happen again, and there's nothing more to say about it. Now, let me enjoy my hangover in peace, ok?" She took her coffee to the armchair and sat down. Luka, to her relief, took the couch. It was hard to know if the pained look in his eyes was from his own hangover, his arm, or something else.
For a few minutes they drank their coffee in silence. Abby desperately wanted to go home. Facing Brian again would be a picnic compared to this.
"I didn't lose control, Abby," Luka finally said quietly. "I was drunk, but not that drunk. I thought you wanted it. I thought ... something had changed."
"Nothing has changed." Abby's voice was short and crisp. She kept her eyes on her cup. If she looked at Luka, he would know she was lying. Because things had changed, just not in the way he seemed to think. Things were worse. Much worse.
"So you're going to tell me that you had no idea what you were doing? That you were totally out of control?"
"I was drunk; really drunk. What do you think?"
Luka didn't answer for a minute. "I think that you knew exactly what you were doing. I know that I've never seen you get drunk before. You never used to drink at all. So, I think you got drunk on purpose ... and not just because of the damn fish."
"You started the drinking business, don't forget. You're the one who turned the stupid funeral into an Irish wake. I mean ... I couldn't let you drink alone, could I? And besides, you aren't exactly famous for your control, are you? Didn't you say that the thing with Nicole 'just happened?' So maybe last night 'just happened' for you too."
Luka looked pained again, and didn't answer. 'Touche,' Abby thought, but somehow it didn't make her feel any better. She rose and went back to the grill for more coffee; then remembered that there wasn't any more. No more coffee. No more beer. No more cigarettes. Not even a shower. And who knew how many more days trapped in this apartment with Luka.
She picked up the radio and turned it on, and tried to hear the weather report through the static. The battery wouldn't last much longer. And neither would she.