I've Got To Get Close To You

Luka stared out the window. Little Zagreb below moved at a sluggish pace. It was too cold for hustling and bustling. Luka watched as people, bundled under from the cold, scurried into buildings for warmth.

A knock at the door interrupted his revery.

Luka opened the door. The breath left his body.

It was Ceila. She stood before him, looking both demure and seductive. Her thick black hair fell in scrambled tousles on her shoulders, no longer unjustly held back in a tight bun. Her bluish scarf was wrapped in a knot about her neck and Luka was pretty sure it was much too cold for the short skirt and the knee-high boots.

"Student Nurse Kowalski," he said finally, "only you would be bold enough to go outside in cold weather like this."

"I was in the neighbourhood shopping for sausage skins for my grandmother," she revealed, "and I thought you might need a trip to the market, as well."

Luka swallowed hard and crossed his arms.

"No, thank you, I don't need to go."

She shifted the weight onto one foot, put her hands on her hips and affected the look she often did when she had, what she termed, credibility issues.

"Now, Dr. Kovac. I don't believe that for one moment."

"I don't!" Luka denied.

Ceila did not believe him.

"Even if you don't need anything immediately, I have it on good authority that there is a woman who makes the best parenki in the area."

Luka sighed heavily, let his head fall back and put his coat on.

"I think I need more coffee."

Ceila smiled and led Luka onto the street and to the market.

She casually looked at the buildings, weaving through the narrow thoroughfare around cold and busy people.

"This place has a nice Old Europe feel to it," she breathed.

Luka did not look at her, but rather admired the New World-fashioned antiquity.

"I know. That's why I like it."

She smiled.

"Does this place remind you of home?"

"Sometimes," he said.

They went into the thick of a small crowd shopping for herbs and spices.

"Is this where you get your coffee?" she asked.

Luka helped himself to a bag of his favourite coffee.

"This is the only place that has the coffee I like."

More bustling.

Ceila tried to hold her own in the thickening crowd.

"I still have to get the sausage skins."

"I know where you can go," Luka offered.

"Where?" she asked.

Luka stopped. What was happening? Why was he talking to a student nurse who had an unusual knack of being where he was? And why was that? What was she about?

Ceila waited for an answer.

"Luka?"

Just then, an inadvertent shove propelled Ceila into Luka's arms. He caught her and, for a moment, held her. She tilted her neck to look up to him as her body remained flaccid. She smiled gratefully and righted herself to a more erect position. She bowed her head as a blush covered her pale cheeks.

Luka bit his lip.

"I think we should find the sausage skins."

Ceila did not lift her head but kept it bowed, letting a slight nod answer for her.

**

Luka sipped his coffee. Why this coquettishness and formality? They worked with each other, off and on. They had developed something of a rapport that escalated or decreased with each meeting. And the overtures were bold, adventurous, yet surrepticious.

They had finished their shopping. She was talking (as usual). Something about her father's side of the family. She neglected her hot chocolate and swivelled in her chair, waving her hands about. The proprietor of the cafe had shut out Ceila's voice and wiped down the counter. Luka heard her voice as it rambled and his eyes wandered.

"...They live near Krakow."

His eyes returned to her face.

"Who?"

Ceila seemed disappointed at his lack of attention.

"My grandmother and cousins."

"I thought they lived in Canada?" Luka asked.

"My dad's side of the family, I mean," Ceila clarified.

Luka nodded. He had been paying attention. Not to her words, but how the cold made her pale skin taut. She looked disappointed that he hadn't been listening. As though he thought what she had to say was boring. But she wanted him to listen. Did she need his approval?

"If you don't want to talk about this, we could talk about something else," she offered. "I just thought I'd..."

"You're bleeding," Luka interrupted. "Your knee."

A cut had formed on Ceila's knee. The blood had become a solid blotch just under her kneecap.

Ceila shot a look at her knee.

"Oh...." she gasped. She looked embarrassed. "I must have cut myself when I fell."

"I guess so," Luka supposed.

He rose from his seat and asked the proprietor for a bandage.

"Molim, dajte mi zavoj."

The proprietor handed him his first-aid kit and Luka took from it some salve and a band-aid.

Luka knelt to apply the bandage to Ceila's knee. He could sense tension under her skin.

"Good thing you noticed it," Ceila smiled.

He had noticed it, long after they had sat down at the table, when she was talking. He had been looking at it the whole time.

"There," Luka said after he fixed her knee. "All better."

He was still kneeling. He looked up at her. Her pale skin brightened with a little colour.

"Thank you," she offered in a quiet, mellow tone.

Luka tried not look her in the eye and rose. He offered his hand to her.

"I will walk you home."

Ceila gave him her hand.

"Just to the el station will be fine," she said and rose from her seat.

"Alright," Luka said softly.

Ceila smiled and linked her arm with Luka's.

The proprietor smiled quietly to himself.

They walked out of the cafe, arm in arm, into the cold in a world filled with people but where they themselves felt quite alone.

*