The weather report was promising. Temps expected to be in the mid-20's by afternoon; a few major streets were already passable, and power expected to be back in most of the city by tomorrow morning.
There was, however, not much more that was promising. Abby reported the news to Luka, who just nodded and grunted. "Good." Since that time, neither had said another word. Abby just sat, unable to think of anything to say. Luka was pacing the living room, had been doing so for the past half hour. She thought he looked pale; couldn't help worrying about him.
"Your arm really hurts, doesn't it?" she finally asked.
"It's fine!" Luka snapped. "It will be ok."
"My phone still has a charge. I could call County, or 911. Or maybe your neighbor ..."
"I said it's fine!" Luka repeated firmly. "It will keep. It sounds like we'll be able to get out sometime tomorrow." A faint smile. "My headache is at least as bad as my arm right now, and I don't think County can do much for a hangover." A sigh. "I'm going to go lie down for a while." Then, dripping with sarcasm. "Don't feel that you're under any obligation to join me."
"I'll wake you for lunch," Abby said, ignoring the last remark, or at least trying to. She hated seeing him so miserable.
Luka paused at the bedroom door. "How are we doing for food?"
"Besides the coffee, we're ok. Only 4 more JAMAs though."
Luka disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Some of the tension immediately left the air, and Abby felt herself relax a little. But just a little.
Why had they spoiled everything? Those first few weeks after the break-up had been awful -- awkward, strained. Now they were just about friends again. They'd been able to laugh together, have fun together. They could have been friends again, but they'd ruined it.
Not only that, but she'd fallen off the wagon. Hard. Oh, she'd been drinking for a while now, but not really drinking. It had been under control. A drink. Or a couple. But yesterday, she'd gotten drunk; very drunk. And not because of the fish. Not because of Luka. But because she'd wanted to. Because she liked what the alcohol did to her.
Well, after the ice melted, she would go to a meeting. At least that mistake was one she had some hopes of fixing. But the other one ...
"What do you want, Abby?" she asked herself aloud. No, the real question was, who did she want?
Did she really want Luka? She had certainly wanted him yesterday ... last night. Just as she had wanted him that day in the ambulance bay, when she had kissed him, and pretended it was an accident. Just as she'd pretended that last night was an accident, beyond her control. The beer talking.
But no, it wasn't really the same. Last year she had hoped that the kiss would start something real. A relationship. And it had. Last night, she had not been thinking past last night.
She and Luka had had something good. Sex. The sex had always been good. She loved his body, she loved the way he could make her feel. And she loved the way people looked at her -- at them, when they were together. How had someone like her, plain-Jane Abby, a nurse, an alcoholic, a failed medical student with a failed marriage behind her, managed to hook a guy like Luka? A doctor; handsome, smart, sensitive, well-off.
But, did she love him? Could she ever love him? Did she want the man inside the package? The relationship she had hoped for that day in the ambulance bay ... had it ever really happened? They'd never really connected, she had to admit, not in ways that mattered. How often had she refused his help? How often had she failed to tell him what she really wanted? What she really needed? And how often had she blamed him for trying to help -- or not knowing what she needed? People in relationships helped each other, and were glad to do it. People in relationships talked to each other.
Did she really want him? Was she willing to do what it took to have him? Really have him?
Or, did she want Carter? He would be a prize too. He was also handsome and understanding -- and unquestionably wealthy. And he wanted her, that she knew. But she also knew that he would never make the first move as long as he knew -- or suspected -- that she still wanted Luka.
Abby had to smile a little to herself. There were advantages to being married, she thought, even to an asshole like Richard. When you were married, relationships were simple. Which was probably why she'd married him in the first place. With all the chaos in her life, she'd needed ONE thing that was simple. Misery was fine, as long as it was simple.
Luka wanted her, that much was clear. And he would do whatever it took to have her again. He would even allow her to make him miserable again, over and over. But she wouldn't do that to him, or to herself. She'd had enough of misery.
Oh, if only she were the kind of woman who could go for meaningless sex. If she was, she would go back to Luka in a heartbeat. She would get the sex, enjoy the sex. Or, at least, she could forget about last night, call it a stupid mistake and move on. But she'd never been that kind of person. (Well, unless you counted the last few months of her marriage. That sex had been meaningless enough. Beyond meaningless. And that had taught her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn't something she wanted in her life again.)
Abby sighed. She'd messed up her own life, at least the parts of it that hadn't messed up themselves. She'd blown her relationship with Luka. But at least she could be honest with herself. She'd blamed Luka far too often for things that weren't his fault.
Would anything happen for her with Carter? If it did, would she ruin that one too? Would she make him miserable? Who could say. She'd cross that bridge another day. But right now, she could try to salvage what she could have with Luka. She could take responsibility for her own life, her own mistakes. And, just a little bit, for Luka.
Abby turned on her cell phone. The power icon showed a small charge. Enough for a couple of calls, anyway.
There was, however, not much more that was promising. Abby reported the news to Luka, who just nodded and grunted. "Good." Since that time, neither had said another word. Abby just sat, unable to think of anything to say. Luka was pacing the living room, had been doing so for the past half hour. She thought he looked pale; couldn't help worrying about him.
"Your arm really hurts, doesn't it?" she finally asked.
"It's fine!" Luka snapped. "It will be ok."
"My phone still has a charge. I could call County, or 911. Or maybe your neighbor ..."
"I said it's fine!" Luka repeated firmly. "It will keep. It sounds like we'll be able to get out sometime tomorrow." A faint smile. "My headache is at least as bad as my arm right now, and I don't think County can do much for a hangover." A sigh. "I'm going to go lie down for a while." Then, dripping with sarcasm. "Don't feel that you're under any obligation to join me."
"I'll wake you for lunch," Abby said, ignoring the last remark, or at least trying to. She hated seeing him so miserable.
Luka paused at the bedroom door. "How are we doing for food?"
"Besides the coffee, we're ok. Only 4 more JAMAs though."
Luka disappeared into the bedroom and shut the door behind him. Some of the tension immediately left the air, and Abby felt herself relax a little. But just a little.
Why had they spoiled everything? Those first few weeks after the break-up had been awful -- awkward, strained. Now they were just about friends again. They'd been able to laugh together, have fun together. They could have been friends again, but they'd ruined it.
Not only that, but she'd fallen off the wagon. Hard. Oh, she'd been drinking for a while now, but not really drinking. It had been under control. A drink. Or a couple. But yesterday, she'd gotten drunk; very drunk. And not because of the fish. Not because of Luka. But because she'd wanted to. Because she liked what the alcohol did to her.
Well, after the ice melted, she would go to a meeting. At least that mistake was one she had some hopes of fixing. But the other one ...
"What do you want, Abby?" she asked herself aloud. No, the real question was, who did she want?
Did she really want Luka? She had certainly wanted him yesterday ... last night. Just as she had wanted him that day in the ambulance bay, when she had kissed him, and pretended it was an accident. Just as she'd pretended that last night was an accident, beyond her control. The beer talking.
But no, it wasn't really the same. Last year she had hoped that the kiss would start something real. A relationship. And it had. Last night, she had not been thinking past last night.
She and Luka had had something good. Sex. The sex had always been good. She loved his body, she loved the way he could make her feel. And she loved the way people looked at her -- at them, when they were together. How had someone like her, plain-Jane Abby, a nurse, an alcoholic, a failed medical student with a failed marriage behind her, managed to hook a guy like Luka? A doctor; handsome, smart, sensitive, well-off.
But, did she love him? Could she ever love him? Did she want the man inside the package? The relationship she had hoped for that day in the ambulance bay ... had it ever really happened? They'd never really connected, she had to admit, not in ways that mattered. How often had she refused his help? How often had she failed to tell him what she really wanted? What she really needed? And how often had she blamed him for trying to help -- or not knowing what she needed? People in relationships helped each other, and were glad to do it. People in relationships talked to each other.
Did she really want him? Was she willing to do what it took to have him? Really have him?
Or, did she want Carter? He would be a prize too. He was also handsome and understanding -- and unquestionably wealthy. And he wanted her, that she knew. But she also knew that he would never make the first move as long as he knew -- or suspected -- that she still wanted Luka.
Abby had to smile a little to herself. There were advantages to being married, she thought, even to an asshole like Richard. When you were married, relationships were simple. Which was probably why she'd married him in the first place. With all the chaos in her life, she'd needed ONE thing that was simple. Misery was fine, as long as it was simple.
Luka wanted her, that much was clear. And he would do whatever it took to have her again. He would even allow her to make him miserable again, over and over. But she wouldn't do that to him, or to herself. She'd had enough of misery.
Oh, if only she were the kind of woman who could go for meaningless sex. If she was, she would go back to Luka in a heartbeat. She would get the sex, enjoy the sex. Or, at least, she could forget about last night, call it a stupid mistake and move on. But she'd never been that kind of person. (Well, unless you counted the last few months of her marriage. That sex had been meaningless enough. Beyond meaningless. And that had taught her, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that it wasn't something she wanted in her life again.)
Abby sighed. She'd messed up her own life, at least the parts of it that hadn't messed up themselves. She'd blown her relationship with Luka. But at least she could be honest with herself. She'd blamed Luka far too often for things that weren't his fault.
Would anything happen for her with Carter? If it did, would she ruin that one too? Would she make him miserable? Who could say. She'd cross that bridge another day. But right now, she could try to salvage what she could have with Luka. She could take responsibility for her own life, her own mistakes. And, just a little bit, for Luka.
Abby turned on her cell phone. The power icon showed a small charge. Enough for a couple of calls, anyway.