Reconcilable Differences
part 36
by Mrs. Eyre
3.00 pm. He’d slept for 16 hours and still his limbs felt like lead. If it weren’t for the fact that he was ravenously hungry he’d have been tempted to go back to sleep. It would at least pass the time until he made his way to Abby’s place to hear the verdict, and he knew that was why he was going. Damn. He had meant to be the one to initiate this and here he was, pre-empted. He had no idea which way this would go. She’d been pleased to see him on his return, but then she was a friend, why would she not? He had done a lot of thinking whilst he was away, but then so had she evidently and he was certain that she’d come to a decision. The doubts which always dogged him where she was concerned returned with a vengeance. The thought of sitting patiently while she told him what his future was to be made him sick to his stomach. He felt as he had before exams. He’d always been fine once he’d seen the paper, but before that it had taken every ounce of his willpower not to turn tail and run. Well, if he ate something he might not feel so nauseous. He ate. He still felt nauseous.“Miss Lockhart.”
“Doctor Carter.”
“And how are you today?”
”Good”
“Really? How did it go?”
”What?”
”Yesterday.”
Abby didn’t answer.
“Oh-ho! Last night, even?”
”Nothing happened.”
“Nothing?”
“Well, you know, we talked. He talked, mostly.”
“That has to be a first.”
“No, as it happens. I don’t tell you everything, you know.”
Carter’s expression changed from one of amusement to one of concern.
“You OK?”
“Yes. No. I’m seeing him tonight.”
“Ah. I figured you’d have it settled by now.”
”Well, see, he’d just spent 24 hours on a plane and I’d had no sleep. Not ideal Big Serious Talk conditions, you know?”
“I guess not. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to be flippant.”
”No, it’s OK. I didn’t mean to snap. Can we just not talk about it right now?”
“Sure.”
“You’re looking kinda pleased with yourself.”
”I am?”
“Like the cat that got the cream.”
“Well, not yet.”
“So come on. Spill it.”
”No. Don’t want to jinx anything.”
“This is me, Carter. I’ll find out.”
”So go find out.”
”Chen.”
“What?”
“You had a date with Chen.”
“She told you.”
“No she didn’t.”
”Yes she did.”
”No she didn’t. She told Susan. I just overheard.”
“You eavesdropped.”
“She seemed kinda pleased with herself too.”
“Really?”
“Really. So how was it?”
”Cool.”
“Cool?”
”Well, you know, I didn’t really know it was a date.”
”Sure you did”
”Well, I didn’t know if she knew.”
”You been taking classes in advanced obtuse?”
“You’re asking me that?”
Abby was suddenly serious.
“Scared?” Abby nodded. “It’ll be OK” Carter said, quietly.
“What if – “
“It’ll be OK”
Abby looked him in the eye then, thankful to have him there. He reached out and pulled her against his shoulder.
“It’ll be OK.”
5.00pm . This was intolerable. He’d unpacked; pressed the clothes which Tatijana had insisted on washing before he left Zagreb; retrieved his spare keys from his neighbour; restocked the kitchen and sifted through four weeks’ worth of mail. He should go for a walk by the shore. He walked, but a man can only walk so far. He drank espresso after espresso in a little café until the waitress started to cast anxious sidelong glances at him and his nerves were shredded and his heart pounding and he had never wanted a cigarette so much before in his life and damn his father. Perhaps he could call him. Ridiculous; Luka could imagine the reception he’d get. He walked some more.
7.00 pm She’d be finishing work now; shopping maybe. This time tomorrow he’d know. He’d know. Jesus Christ.
“God, Abby, what is it, what’s happened?” Luka stared appalled at the tears running down her face when she opened the door to him.
“What? Oh, no, onions; I’m chopping onions.”
”Shit, I thought – I don’t know what I thought – your mother or something.”
“No, nothing so dramatic. Come on in.” He followed her to the kitchen.
“Here, let me do that.”
”It’s OK.”
“Please.”
“What, so we can both cry?”
“It’s what friends are for. Give me the knife.”
“Suit yourself. You’re early.”
”Nothing else to do, you know?”
”Unpacked? Done your laundry?”
”None to do. Tatijana did it all before I left Zagreb.”
“She obviously thinks you need looking after.”
”I know. I don’t know how she thinks I manage the rest of the time.”
“What’s it like?”
”What?”
”Going home.”
”Strange. Easy to get pulled in again.”
“You thought about it?”
“Yes.”
“And?”
”It would please them.”
“But not you.”
Luka shrugged.
“You could live in Zagreb?”
“I don’t know. My father is planning to move to the coast next year. He can paint, get drunk, seduce the local peasantry. He’d be in his element.”
“He sounds - - - “
“Go on.”
“Well, colourful.”
“How diplomatic. He’s that alright.”
”You have your accent back.”
”Do I?” He sounded rather pleased.
“Yes. So they’d like it if you went back.”
”In theory.”
“Meaning - - - “
“I don’t know if it could work. We’ve lived such different lives since - - - the war. I don’t know if I could stand it. Where do you want these?”
“Give them to me. Here.” Abby handed him a piece of kitchen paper. “Wipe your eyes.”
As he washed his hands she said “Carter’s dating Chen.”
“I see” he said, carefully. “And how is that?”
“What?”
”For you. I mean – “
“Oh, no, it’s good. They’re good for each other I think. He’s – he – she’s very - - - grounded. I think that’s what he needs. Pass the chicken over.”
“What are we eating?” He knew he’d have difficulty swallowing a single mouthful.
“Paprika chicken.”
“I haven’t eaten that since - - - well, since the last time you cooked it for me.”
“Did you lose weight while you were away?”
“I don’t think so, why?”
”You look like maybe you did. Just a little.”
“I don’t know how. My father goes for quantity and Tatijana’s cooking is, well, generous. And it was all washed down with lots of drink.” He stopped, awkward. Smooth, Luka, very smooth.
“It’s OK, Luka. It’s not a dirty word.”
”I’m sorry.”
”Don’t be. Don’t you miss it – Croatia?”
”Sure. But places - - - they’re what people make them, aren’t they. Minnesota for you – “
“My mom. I know."
“Oil.”
“What?”
”The oil is burning.”
“Shit.”
“Pour it away and start again.”
Abby turned off the heat under the pan and stood as though paralysed. “I’m not hungry.”
“Me neither.”
“You want a beer? I got some. It’s OK.”
“Yes. Yes, I do. You want anything?”
“Perrier. It’s in the fridge.”
”Go and sit down.”