Chapter 4 – Similarities of All Runaways
Her mind had drifted to Luka nearly every time the table was silent for even a short moment, and even in moments while others were speaking and she wasn't. He was so tall, even taller than her little brother had grown to be. His accent was thick, and he was still sometimes unsure if what he was saying was what he meant. The color of his skin was naturally dark. He had those mysterious, tall, dark, and handsome qualities to his Croatian frame.
In her mind, she traced his features. The way she was left remembering him was the edge of his face lined with short and prickly facial hairs, and his eyes with slight bags under them. His eyes were probably baggy from not getting the sleep that was normal for him. But the bags under his eyes were a good look for him. His black hair was still short – he seemed to get like 30 haircuts a month.
She had held a wine glass to her slightly parted lips, hoping to wash away all traces of him – his face, his memory, his love, the hurt of her feeling the same. But as the liquid washed down the back of her throat, the only thing that it washed away was the spicy taste that Cajun chicken had left stranded on her taste buds. It was the spice herbs that were added to the chicken that she'd always hated, and now she was just eating the Cajun chicken out of politeness. Maybe she just didn't have the strength to turn down food.
She set her wine glass down on the table, and to announce that she was through with it, she asked the waiter for an ice water. Her cheeks were reddening, and she was becoming insanely flushed. She couldn't explain it, but the room was becoming hot. The heat seemed to rise to the surface of her skin, her nerves becoming numb. And then her stomach started twisting and flipping around, causing her to become nauseated.
The only trace of cool air left in her body seemed to attempt an escape up through her throat, triggering her to fight back the sick feeling that had come over her. She gulped the cool air down, and shakily exhaled. She was forced to sip her wine again; the moment that the flavor met the tip of her tongue she spit it out.
"Excuse me," she smiled breathlessly, standing up from the table. Her pace to the bathroom was quick, and she was sure that the eyes of her mother, father, her brothers Mark and Aaron, her sister Tracy, and her son Alex, were all boring holes into the back of her head. She shook it off, pressing a hand to her stomach and her other hand to her mouth.
The bathroom was empty, and she had definitely expected there to be at least one other person in the bathroom considering that it was a Cajun food restaurant. Her stomach flipped more abundantly, prompting her to rush into the nearest empty stall. It gagged her as the air got caught in her throat, and was soon pushed up by the loss of her control. She pulled away, flushing the toilet, and she rubbed her forehead. Her index finger lingered down a trail to her chin, and she pulled her hand away, smoothing out her slightly wrinkled top.
She collected herself inside the stall before recollecting herself outside of the stall. She fought with herself on the inside, and had an eye battle with herself in the mirror on the outside. She was angry with herself, the wonders of what she had already frightfully pondered once finding its way back to her.
Returning to the table, she decided that the rest of the meal was going to go great. All other thoughts were going to be pushed aside and she was going to think about the accepting family that she had sitting in front of her. But she couldn't just quit thinking of a doctor that she used to love – she couldn't quit cold turkey.
She had always doubted her mothering capabilities, but something about the day made her not question her parenting skills. It could have been a number of things, including the compliments that her family had given her about the way Alex had been raised. She couldn't go back to Chicago, but she couldn't stay in Trenton either.
The voices faded out in the background around her, and there seemed to be a lone voice echoing throughout her mind. It was soft, slow, and comforting. And it was interrupted when everyone at the table stood up and began gathering their things to leave.
The ride to her childhood home had never been so perfect. The lights were bright. The drive was soothing. The voices were familiar. It was all going better than she thought it ever could have.
Until they pulled into the driveway, and the cream colored SUV parked directly beneath the streetlight looked as though it had been heavily driven on. The car was slightly shadowed as his tall frame was slightly above the ceiling of the car and peeked over the top unto the other side. She sighed, pressing her hand against her forehead.
The car pulled to halt in the driveway beside her own car, and she stepped out of the opening door that her father had grabbed. She smiled at him while telling him her thanks, and Alex climbed out of the backseat on the other side.
"Luka!" Alex screamed excitedly.
"Alex," she said through clenched teeth, her jaw tightening. Her eyes burned with anger and desperation at the same time. Her intense glare made him straighten up and follow his grandfather into the house.
Her parents, and Alex, disappeared into the house and she began to follow them into her childhood home. Only for her to stop when reaching the porch, and sitting down on the step. She crossed her arms and leaned them against her knees. Sighing, she ran a hand through her hair and stopped it at the back of her neck.
She heard his footsteps gently approach her, and her gaze carried upward toward his tall and approaching form. He looked gentle, and a little nervous to approach her. He stopped, the light from the porch barely lighting his face.
"What are you doing here?" she asked, her eyes gently glazed looking into his. She dropped her arm back to her lap and crossed them in front of her chest. His eyes stayed locked on hers as he eased towards her, closing the small gap between them.
"I should ask you the same," he said softly, sitting down beside her on the step. His eyes were red brimmed and tired, the bags under his eyes heavier than what was a good look for him. The gap between them on the narrow step was wider than the amount of space that either one were separately occupying.
"Luka, you used to understand me. You used to understand why I used to do this," she sighed, slightly turning towards him and leaning back against the white, wooden pillar.
"Sam, I understood when you had no one to trust. I'm here now, you can trust me," he breathed out, his eyes insisting her that he was worth her trust. She sighed, and lifted her leg up onto the step. Her knee was pulled up to her chest, and with that guard up she seemed to relax more against the pillar.
"I don't know if I can trust you, Luka. I had to leave you before you left me," she said, shaking her head. He furrowed his eyebrows and narrowed his eyes. Pursing his lips together, he released a tired breath of air.
"Sam, I get you. I understand you totally and completely. When things get hard, a little uncomfortable, maybe a little too good," he trailed off, reaching a hand out. His palm touched her upper thigh. He rubbed it soothingly, as if he was trying to tell her that he understood.
"What are you talking about?" she asked, picking up his hand and placing it back on his lap.
"We had something really, really good between us, Sam. We trusted each other, and I know how that can be a bit scary but it's something that eventually goes away. It got too good to be true, and you left – you ran away," his voice was gentle, and even while his words should hurt her it was doing nothing but making her feel better.
"I didn't run away because something good was going on between us. I may be reckless but I'm not stupid," she laughed accusingly in the back of her throat.
"I know exactly how it works, Sam. I was like that too. I ran from my pain in Croatia and I went to Rome. After a while things started to get hard and I went to Madrid. In Madrid I started to get uncomfortable with everyone that I had known and I went to Seattle. Things went really good in Seattle – my life was falling into place. It scared me, so I left and that's when I came to Chicago," he said, and her eyes tore from him and traced the cracks on the deck of the porch. "I know what it's like to run."
"I didn't run because things between us were good, Luka. I was so happy when we were together, you know? But then Steve came back and messed with your mind. Don't you think that if I wanted to be with Steve I would have been with him a long time ago?" she asked, shaking her head with furrowed eyebrows. Her eyes shifted back up to him. He tried to reach out again to touch her, but she caught his hand by the wrist.
"That's usually how it works, I'd think," he shrugged. He tried to grab her hand with the hand that hers was wrapped around. The closest that he had gotten to holding her hand was when he ran his fingertips across her palm.
"It wasn't what I wanted. All I wanted was you, Luka," she said gently, relenting and letting him push his hand against hers. His fingers entwined with hers, the rough tips of his fingers gliding against hers. He sheepishly smiled, the corners of his lips slightly widening.
"I wanted that too," he agreed, inching closer to her.
"But you'll just leave. You'll leave me the way that Steve continues to leave me," she said. She breathed out a shaky breath, trying to keep her tears collected. He pursed his lips together and started shaking his head.
"No, I won't," he insisted. His free hand left his lap and rested against her upper thigh. Rubbing her upper thigh, he fought off his own line of tears threatening to fall down his cheeks.
"You'll just leave me alone with two kids to take care of. It's classic," she said, shaking her head as a lone tear slid down her cheek.
"Classic? I wouldn't leave you, Sam," he insisted, shaking his head too. He pulled his hand from her thigh and wiped the tears from her cheek. His hand lingered against her cheek, and his thumb gently brushed across her cheekbone.
"You wouldn't leave me because I left you before you could leave me," she said.
"No, you ran because things got good. Really, really good," he was being persistent in the way he felt. He shook his head, soon stopping while searching her eyes. His eyes looked tired and worn out, but when he was looking at her they seemed so alive.
"I ran because I think that I might be pregnant, Luka," she said, closing her eyes. She couldn't face him – she couldn't allow for her eyes to fall on his. Although his thumb paused from brushing across her cheekbone, his hand was still firmly pressed against her cheek.
"And I'm the father," he said breathlessly. His fingers entwined with hers were pressed tighter together when he squeezed her hand. He gazed across the area around him before looking back at her.
"If there is a baby you'd be the father," she said in agreement. Her eyes seemed to press him for answer of questions that hadn't been asked. He tugged her arm towards him and gently pressed his lips against hers. It was something that she needed. She had needed his kiss like air was needed to breathe.
Pulling his lips away from hers, he kissed her quick and softly again before pulling back and turning his body towards her. He pulled her hand down into his lap, engulfing her hand in both of his and caressing it with his thumbs and index fingers. He looked down at their hands. Tearing his eyes away from their interlocked hands, he raised his eyebrows onto his forehead.
"Come back to Chicago with me?" he asked. She nodded with a small smile on her face, prompting him to smile too. "You and Alex should come live with me," he told her, not even bothering to ask her.
"That's something that Alex and I should probably talk about first," she said, pulling his hand towards her to reassure him that it wasn't something that she wanted to just dismiss. He nodded in understanding, biting his bottom lip. The comfortable silence that had fallen between them was soon to be broken. "Do you want to meet my family?"
"Do you think we're ready for that?" he asked, his eyes widening.
"There's no better time than now. I'm sure that they'll think nothing less of you just because you're dumb enough to drive to Trenton just to talk to me," she teased.
"Hey," he said playfully, standing up while keeping a hold on her hand. He helped her to stand up from the low deck, and followed behind her as she walked towards the front door. Her hand brushed against the doorknob, and when it did, he pulled her back. "I'm so in love with you. If all of this has taught me anything it's that."
"What did you just say?" she asked, releasing a breath of air with her disbelieving laugh. She leaned back against the doorframe. He smiled, his eyes tracing her face.
"I just can't wait to tell you that any longer," he smiled with a slight shrug. Her eyes locked on his, her body melting under his intense gaze. She kept their entwined hands together while pulling their hands behind her back.
"Me too," she smiled. She twisted around and opened the door. She walked in and pulled him in behind her, his frame surprising Alex. His hand was still locked with hers, and when she stopped in front of her family to introduce him to them, he realized that her grip on him was keeping him calm – his nerves staying hidden below the surface.