Reconcilible Differences
part 30
by Mrs. Eyre
“Luka. Luka, wake up” Receiving
no response Damir kicked his brother a little harder than
was absolutely necessary.
“Son of a bitch!”
“We’re ten minutes out of Zagreb.
Wake yourself up.”
”I think you just did that.” Luka grumbled.
“God, I’m hungry.”
“Is Tatijana expecting to feed us?”
”Sure. I said I’d get you back tonight.”
”Oh, you had a plan, did you?”
”Well --- no, I didn’t.but it was what she wanted.
What is that?”
”What?”
”The ring. I noticed it before.”
”It belonged to a friend of mine. She died.”
”Oh, I’m sorry.”
”No, no, she was an old lady. Her time. She came
from somewhere near Grandpa’s farm she said.”
”What name?”
”Petrovic. Rosa Petrovic.”
Damir shrugged. “Petrovic. Common as dogs.
Why did she leave you the ring?”
”I don’t know.”
”Perhaps she thought you’d find a use for it.”
Damir said, slyly, as the train pulled into the station.
“Come on, let’s get out of here.”
“Chicken.”
“Not listening.”
Damir squawked as he followed Luka down the
platform.
“Still not listening. And you’re
making a spectacle of yourself.”
Squawk, squawk, squawk.
Damir had stopped only when Luka abruptly
caught him in a headlock in the street outside the station.
The evening was cool and there was a soothing breeze blowing from
the river.
“I’ve been thinking about maybe
moving south with Tata when he goes.”
”Where? Vodice?”
”No. Dubrovnik, Sibenik. Lawyers, we’re
like doctors. No-one wants us but everybody needs us
eventually.”
“You really want to go?”
“He’s getting old, Luka. I
want to be near him, want the kids to be near him. And
someone’s going to have to deal with all those paternity
suits. Anyway, it’s where we grew up, it feels more
like home to me than Zagreb ever will no matter long I live
here.”
“What does Tatijana think about it?”
No answer. “You haven’t told her, have you?”
“Well, obviously we’ll have to
talk about it. It’s not something which can be decided
just by one of us.”
“Yes it is.”
”What?”
”She’ll decide.”
”No.”
“Sure she will. Henpecked, that’s
you.” And he began to squawk, lengthening his stride
so that Damir must break into a canter to keep up and then
into a run as Luka laughed and sprinted away from him.
Ivica sat by the open window and waited,
blowing clouds of cigarette smoke out into the night air. It
was late, and there had been no word from Damir. What if he
hadn’t brought him back, what then? Of course he’d
bring him back, he could rely on Damir. Besides, Tatijana
would have his balls on a platter if he didn’t. He
leaned forward, hearing footsteps in the street below. Not
Luka. He tossed the cigarette end out into the dark,
watching as it described a glowing orange arc through the air.
His boy had been sure that he needed to do this, had slipped away
in the early morning taking nothing with him. Ivica had
told himself that this was proof that he’d be back tonight;
but it might just as easily mean that he’d never again have
any use for his things.
Ivica Kovac was not a man given to
tears, but that morning he had sat on the bed in the spare room,
picked up the shirt discarded there and, holding it to his face,
sobbed for his son and for all the years lost to them. He
was not much given to prayer either, usually invoking the deity
only to curse Him. But he murmured “Please, God, make
this right for him, for all of us, make it right.”
Now he lit another cigarette and poured
himself a shot of Loza. Soon, he’d be home soon.
He must have dozed off. He was jolted
awake by a voice calling up to him from the street.
“Hey! Old man! You have to
let me in, the street door is locked!”
“And what time do you call this to be
coming in? You’re lucky I wasn’t in bed.”
“Stop grumbling and open the door.
I’m tired and I’m getting cold down here.”
“Patience is a virtue, boy.”
”How would you know?”
Ivica stood stiffly and made for the door.
“Silly old fool,” he admonished
himself, wiping tears from his eyes. “Crying like a
woman.” He laughed then, and tried hard to settle his
expression into that of a man well and truly pissed off at being
kept up. But when he opened the street door he found
himself caught in Luka’s embrace.
“Oh, fuck it, boy, I thought you weren’t
coming back.” he said and this time he let himself cry.
Upstairs Luka watched and waited as his
father cried.
“I’m sorry, Tata.”
”Don’t be sorry, don’t be sad. There’s
been enough sadness, don’t invite any more through the door.
Pour me a drink.”
“The thing is – the thing is
I’ve been trying so hard to keep them safe – in
here,” and he laid a hand on his forehead. “But
it can’t be done. They’re gone. I’ve
been so afraid to let them go. I can’t live my life
afraid.”
“We’re all afraid. Parents,
they’re more afraid than anyone. The worst thing that
can happen to a father has happened to you. They would have
wanted you dead too. I’m proud that you didn’t
finish the bastards’ work for them.” Ivica held
out his glass again. “And this time you have one.
What will you do?”
”Do?”
”When you go back.” Luka didn’t answer.
“Luka – this woman – Abby – what will you do?”
“I don’t know. “
”You don’t know.”
”Tata, I can’t think about that tonight, really, not
tonight.”
“No. But before you leave you
have to decide. “
“I know. The thing is –
whatever happens it’ll be all right now, you know? I’ll
live.”
“It’s a man I raised, by God it
is. Fill these glasses.”
“You drink too much.”
”I drink too much, I smoke too much and if you ask Mrs
Gavrilic downstairs there are other things I do too much. What
the hell. I could fall under a bus tomorrow.”
“Or get hit by frozen toilet waste.”
“Just so. The piss and shit can
hit any of us any time, hit all of us during the war.”
“A real sh*t storm.”
Ivica looked warily at his son before giving
way to a great shout of laughter.
“Here’s to you, Luka Kovac, here’s
to you! I’m going to drink to you, boy and I’ll
do it every day of my life ‘til they put me in the ground!”
And Luka knew that he would.