Reconcilible Differences
part 27
by Mrs. Eyre
“Damir. Damir, wake up. It’s
past noon.”
”Leave me alone, Tata.”
”Come on, boy. Here’s coffee and bread and
cheese. Eat something. Luka’s been up for eight
hours.”
“Luka would.”
“You drove him away.” Damir’s
eyes were open now.
“What? He’s gone?”
”No, no, out of bed.”
“I did not.”
”You made … advances to him.” Damir sighed
and sat up. “So,” said Ivica, “You have a
headache too?”
“Yes.”
“How did I father two such pitiful
specimens as this?”
”Two?”
”Luka had painkillers for breakfast. You want a beer
now?”
“Tata, don’t.” Ivica
laughed. “Move over.” He settled himself at
Damir’s side and took out his tobacco.
”Do you have to?”
”My house, boy, my house.”
“Give me the coffee.” He
took a sip of the coffee and cradled the cup against
his chest, letting the thick black liquid clear the foul taste of
the night’s excesses from his mouth. Ivica smoked in
silence before saying abruptly
“Next year I’m going to
move down here for good.”
“What?”
”When I retire.”
”You’ll leave Zagreb?”
”I’ve had enough of the city. I can paint in
peace here.”
”Since when did you hanker after peace?”
”Since I lived through a war.”
”Well, we all did that. You know what I mean. I
thought you liked the city – you have all your mates there.”
”I can make new friends. Look, there’s a town, a
bar, a market, the sea, a boat and room to
paint. It’s all I need.”
”You say that now.”
”What are you getting so pissy about?” Damir was
silent for a while.
“I’ll miss you. Mother gone,
then Luka, now you; l feel like … an orphan.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. Don’t
you want the cheese? Give it to me. Anyway, you could
come with me.”
”Tata, my work, the kids’ schools, I can’t.”
”I know that. How did we end up here, do you
think?”
”What?”
”I brought the two of you up after Mama died. I did my
best –“
”Tata –“
”No, no, hear me out. I think I did a bloody
good job. A lawyer and a doctor. I’m proud of
you. Luka … well, Luka we lost at Vukovar, didn’t
we? I don’t know if we’ll ever have him back.”
”Literally?”
”Literally, figuratively, every which way. But
you … look at you. You’re a good husband, a good
father, a good son and a good lawyer. You’re a good
man.”
”And boring.”
”Sometimes” said Ivica candidly. “But
then I bore myself now and then.” He yawned hugely as though
to illustrate the point.
”Luka doesn’t bore you though, does he?”
“He would if he were here.”
Sure
“I was thinking,” Ivica
continued, lighting another cigarette. “He says he’s
going to Vukovar.”
Here it comes
“I know.”
”He shouldn’t be alone.”
”It’s what he wants.”
”He needn’t know.”
“What? You’re not suggesting
I follow him?”
“He wouldn’t be comfortable if he
knew.”
”I can’t. My work –“
”Is an excuse. He’s your brother.”
”And he’s your son! You do it!”
“I don’t –“
”You must see how impossible this is.”
Ivica ran a hand through his hair.
“I know. It’s just that
… “
”What?”
”You’re a father, Damir; You understand. I
worry, I still worry.”
“I know, Tata. But I don’t
think we can do this. And Luka might be right to want to be
alone.” An uncomfortable silence settled between them.
“I wasn’t there when they were
buried.” Ivica said suddenly. “No-one was there
with him then.”
“No-one could have been, Tata.”
“I wasn’t there to see them
buried,” his father said again.
“I understand. I do.”
“I’ve been since, you know.”
”No. I didn’t know.”
”I put up a headstone. Cost me a fucking
fortune. What kind of person makes money out of headstones?”
”In Vukovar? A wealthy one by now” said Damir,
sadly. “Does he know?” Ivica shook his head.
“Why didn’t you tell him?”
“I don’t know. It didn’t
seem right. I … didn’t think he’d ever go
back. I’m afraid for him, Damir.” He looked
at his son then and Damir was astonished to see tears in his
eyes.
“He’ll be alright, Tata,” he
said, gently. “He’s strong. Like you.”
”He’s stronger than me. Still I’m afraid.”
”What … do you think about this woman in Chicago?”
”I don’t know what to think. Last time he was
here …. It was like he was losing any ground he’d
gained. The man he killed… that was a long time coming
I think. But I thought the idea of her got him through
that. He went back … had something to go back to.”
”It’s the same woman? I thought it finished?”
”It did. Give me your saucer.” Ivica put
out his cigarette. “He says she drinks.”
”Drinks? As in …”
”As in Viktor who used to work in the Post Office and
drowned when he passed out at the side of the river.”
“Shit.”
“Yes. She’s not drinking
now.”
“But they aren’t together?”
”Yet.” Damir considered this for a while.
“Well, if he’s decided she’s
worth it I suppose we must believe him.”
“What if she hurts him?” There
was a note of panic in Ivica’s voice. “I’m
afraid for him. I wouldn’t want him to know it. He
says he loves her, wants to try again with her and I told him to
see it through. But what if I’m wrong?”
“He’ll be OK. Tata, really I think
he will.”
”Will he?” Damir had never seen his father like
this, so desperate for reassurance. He felt a surge of pity
and another of pride that he was the one entrusted with this face
of his father.
“Yes. He will. I know it.”
Ivica nodded
“You know you’re right, boy;
sometimes you’re a tight arsed, pompous, boring little shit.”
”Thank you.”
”But I love you, you know.”
”I know.” They were silent for a moment.
“So, you ready for that beer yet?”
”Absolutely not.”
”Eh, you’re no son of mine.”