Reconcilible Differences
part 23
by Mrs. Eyre
The water was growing cold. Abby
considered running in more hot, but she’d already done that
twice. She ran her thumb over the tips of her fingers, pale
and wrinkled, like wet seersucker; stood up, feeling a
little dizzy and reached for her towel.
The journey home had been silent until Abby
said
“I had fun tonight.”
“In spite of the dancing?”
”Well, that was … an
experience. You know we never went dancing … before I
mean.”
”No”
”We should have.”
”There are a lot of things we should
have done. And some we shouldn’t.”
“Yeah, well, it’s a shame; you’re
not bad.”
“You should see me tango.”
”You cannot tango.”
”Sure I can.”
”No, you can’t”
”I can! I was taught by an
expert.
”Where?”
”Bosnia.”
”The tango big in Bosnia?”
“It probably is now if Eduardo’s
till there.”
”Well, you’ll forgive my
scepticism.”
”You’re just jealous.”
”Really; of what?”
”Can you tango?”
”No.”
”So there you go then.”
“I’ll believe it when I see it.”
”Don’t hold your breath. I’m
not sure I could recreate the right conditions.”
”Which are?”
”Sub-zero temperatures, a noisy
generator, wearing every item of clothing I own and boots with
two pairs of socks.”
”Oh, elegant. Who did you dance
with? Eduardo?”
”No, not with Eduardo, with a very
pretty Norwegian called Irma.”
“Irma.”
”Yeah. Tall, blonde, great legs.”
Abby didn’t like the sound of Irma.
“So, did you two … ?”
”No. But we could have done.”
”Why didn’t you?”
Luka shrugged; “My heart wasn’t
in it.” Where was your heart,
Luka? Don’t go there, Abby. “Anyway,
it was too cold to even think about undressing. Although,”
Luka continued, “she’s used to the cold, so I expect
she could have found a way.”
“How
romantic.”
”Romantic?
I have only two words to say to you on that score.”
”Which
are?”
”Howie
Thomas.”
He’d stayed long enough to run her a
bath and had called his goodbyes as she undressed in her room.
She’d been simultaneously acutely disappointed and immensely
relieved, and she suspected that he felt the same. The
effort of maintaining light hearted banter on the journey home
had probably been as exhausting for him as for her, and she was
beginning to wish she’d capitalized on the tension between
them. It had been dissipated for now. For now.
Luka had walked home from Abby’s place,
thankful for the cool April night. He needed to clear his
head, to marshall his thoughts. He knew that if he’d
made a move toward her tonight she would not have rejected his
advances, just as he had known on more than one occasion whilst
she had stayed with him. Then he’d been in no doubt
that it would have been wrong. He’d succumbed to her
in the first instance in weakness and had done the same with
Nicole. He felt himself blush with shame at the
recollection. Nicole. What had he been thinking?
Well, he hadn’t of course. But she had slid into his
bed in the night, needing him and it had felt so good to be
needed that he hadn’t turned her away. He wouldn’t
do the same again; and he wouldn’t let Abby do it
either. He owed her that much.
He watched the fish in the aquarium, envying
the beautiful silly creatures the simplicity of their mindless
existence. He’d told her he was going away; it
was as much news to him as it had been to her but he knew as son
as he’d said it that it was what he had to do. He
would have to hope that Kerry would permit so long an absence.
His eye lit on his father’s painting. He very much
wanted to talk to someone.
It took a long time before the ‘phone
was picked up; 12 rings … 13 …14 … finally
there came an impatient “Da?”
”Tata? Luka.”