Strings Attached
part 7
by Mrs. Eyre
"I said your chest films are here."
"What?"
"Here. Chest films. Yours. Mr Bailey. And that makes three times. Don't make me say it again."
"I'm sorry. Thank you."
"You're welcome. And I'm only saying that once." Luka watched Haleh's retreating back. He felt as though someone had taken a piece of glass paper to the inside of his eyelids, his head ached and there was a faint ringing in his ears. The time he'd spent on the 'phone with Damir had put paid to any expectation he might have had of sleeping last night and that expectation hadn't been high to start with. He'd grabbed the 'phone in hopes that it might be Abby and had a sneaking suspicion that his efforts to keep the disappointment from his voice on hearing Damir's hadn't been altogether successful.
"Why are you whispering?"
"Tatijana's asleep. It didn't go well, then."
"No. Not well."
"She's really mad, huh?"
"As mad as hell."
"I can see her point, Luka"
"So can I. It only makes it worse."
"I gave the old man a piece of my mind."
"I could hardly bear to listen to what he was saying to her. I should have been there for her, not let him walk all over her."
"Yes, you should. Why weren't you?"
"Jesus, Damir, I don't know. Him and her together. My past and my future bitching at each other."
"Why didn't you tell her?"
"I don't - "
"Don't tell me you don't know."
Luka was silent for a moment. "I was terrified."
"Do you remember me telling you about the time Josip emptied a whole canister of talcum powder into the bathroom? He didn't say a word to us, as though perhaps we wouldn't notice. You sound just like him."
"Well then perhaps you understand what - "
"He was five, Luka."
"I feel like I'm five! Tata can do that to me! So can she! I'm nearly forty, and I don't want to be five, but there it is."
"Well she isn't five. She deserves to be treated like a grown up."
"You know if all you're going to do is state the obvious I'd just as soon you put the 'phone down."
"For what it's worth he said she held her own pretty well."
"Dear God."
"And from what I heard he's right."
"I feel like I led her into an ambush."
"Which you did."
"She shouldn't have to do this. Every time I think about tomorrow - "
"Today."
"What?"
"It's today."
"Today. Thank you so much. Well, it makes me feel sick."
"No sicker than her, I shouldn't think. Look, if it's any comfort I don't believe he'll give her a hard time."
"Except that his idea of a hard time might not be yours or mine. Can I ask you something?"
"Of course."
"Did you . . . like her?"
"Yes, I did, I think."
"You think?"
"Luka, I hardly spoke to her. I don't suppose I'd have got a representative impression of her anyway, would I?"
"I guess not."
"So what's next?"
"Next?"
"After tomorrow."
"Today."
"Today."
"God knows. I'll have to go to her, hope she'll talk to me."
"She'll talk to you."
"Get off the 'phone, Damir; let him get to sleep" Tatijana's voice carried to Luka.
"I have to go" said Damir.
"Sure."
"Get some sleep or you'll be useless tomor - later."
"I'll be useless anyway." Neither of them put the 'phone down.
"Damir?"
"What?"
"I'm sorry. It shouldn't have been like this."
"No, it shouldn't. I never had you pegged as a halfwit, Luka but - "
"Please, don't." Damir though he heard tears in his brother's voice.
"It's not me you should be apologising to."
"I know. I know. I've fucked up before, but this ... " Still they waited.
"You should go."
"Yeah - we don't want both of us in the shit, do we?"
"No." A pause. "Damir?"
"What?"
"Do you - think this is fixable?"
"God, Luka, I don't know, how would I know? But come on, she loves you , doesn't she?"
"After tonight I don't know."
"She does. You might have some major grovelling to do, but you'll work it out. Women always respond well to a little heartfelt self abasement." Luka laughed a little at that.
"Voice of experience, huh?"
"Past master. And if you want any tips I'll be happy to oblige. For a small fee."
"How much?"
"I don't know. Have to see what Tatijana spends. I have to go, man. I need sleep even if you don't."
"Sure. Enjoy the shops."
"I won't. And Luka - call me tomorrow."
"Today."
"Today."
Well, tomorrow - today - was here, he thought morosely as he made his way to the elderly man whose chest films confirmed Luka's earlier diagnosis of a not insignificant infection. He explained the diagnosis, prescribed antibiotics, reassured Mr Bailey and his daughter that the old man would be feeling much better soon.
"I'll go call Mom."
"Don't know what I'd do without her," he said as the door closed behind her.
"Your daughter?"
"Yes. You have children?"
"Ah, no, no."
"It's not for everyone, but me and Lilian, best thing we ever did having the kids."
"How many do you have?"
"Four. Only Julia lives close now. I miss the rest of them."
"I'm sure you do." Luka wanted very badly for this conversation to end.
"Strange thing about being a parent. The better you are the happier they are about leaving you. And you know, you never stop worrying. Carl, our eldest, he lives in Germany now, designs electronic systems for cars. We don't get to see him much, and it's the hardest thing in the world, not being able to do anything for him if he's sick, has troubles. He has a lovely wife, three kids of his own. Still. How 'bout your folks?"
"I'm sorry?"
"You're not from the US."
"No, no I'm not. My father still lives in Croatia."
"And I'll bet he still loses sleep over you."
"If he was one for sleeping much I expect he would, yes."
"That's it, see. You're still a kid to him, can't look after yourself. And his dad thought the same about him. Same for everyone."
"You ready to go, dad?" asked Julia from the door.
"Sure. Come and help me with my shoes."
"Let me" said Luka dropping to one knee and taking Mr Bailey's foot on the other to tie the laces. As he finished he looked up to find the old man looking at him narrowly.
"You sure you don't have kids?"
"Sorry?"
"You've done that before."
"I - I have nieces, a nephew." Two children whose laces don't need tying any more
"It shows. Well, thank you for everything, Dr. Kovac."
"You're welcome."
At the door Mr Bailey turned. "Dr. Kovac?"
"Yes?"
"Call your dad."