LUKA (The Rhythm Series, Book 2)

by Jane Harvey-Berrick

  Furious and worried, I called the one person who might be able to help.

  He answered on the first ring, his voice wary.

  “Luka?”

  “Can you call Sarah? She’s not answering when I try.”

  “Why, where is she?”

  “I don’t know!” I said, my voice sharp with frustration. “I’m supposed to be heading to work, but she started yelling and ran out the door.”

  “Bloody hell, Luka! She’s just given birth and you were yelling at her?”

  “Three weeks ago! And I wasn’t the one yelling,” I hissed at him, rocking a crying Beth with my free hand.

  “Okay, I’ll call her.”

  He hung up and I waited impatiently. A long ten minutes later, he called back.

  “She’s okay. We’ll be there in half-an-hour.”

  We? I took a deep breath. “Fine.”

  I had my coat on and bag packed as I waited impatiently. Beth picked up on my mood and started crying loudly, her face red and angry, her tiny hands curled into fists.

  When the door opened, Sarah walked in, her face streaked with tears. She ignored me and headed straight to the bedroom, her hands over her ears to block out Beth’s crying.

  “Sarah . . .”

  “Not now, Luka,” Seth said firmly. “You get to work as you think it’s so damn important.”

  “Who’s going to support Beth if I’m not working?” I asked angrily.

  “She has family. Go and dance. We’ll be fine.”

  There were so many things I wanted to say, but I was exhausted. So many emotions were tearing me apart, I couldn’t focus on any of them. I began to welcome the creeping numbness that worked its way through me.

  I kissed Beth on her round cheek.

  “She’s hot because she’s been crying,” I said to Seth. “She’ll stop in a few minutes.”

  He looked at me doubtfully, wincing from the volume those small lungs could produce.

  “How can you tell?”

  I shrugged. “Because that’s what she does. She’ll wake up in a couple of hours. If Sarah can’t feed her, there’s some formula in the fridge, but you need to heat it up. I’ve written out the instructions for you, and I’ll leave my cell on. I’ve already sterilized the bottle, so you don’t need to do that.”

  Seth gave me a strange look, but I felt too drained to figure out what it meant.

  “I’ll be back by 11.30PM. Sooner, if I can catch a cab.”

  “We need to talk,” he said, as I headed out.

  I paused, my back to him, my heart suddenly galloping.

  “About Sarah,” he finished.

  I nodded curtly and left.

  Four-and-a-half hours later, I stumbled through the front door. Beth was crying, a thin, reedy cry of exhaustion. I knew how she felt.

  Seth was pacing up and down the small living room, spit-up on his Savile Row shirt, his face drawn and worried.

  “Thank God you’re back! She’s been like this since you left.”

  “Did you change her diaper?”

  He looked at me, appalled.

  “Jezus Kristus! You’ve left my daughter in a dirty diaper all evening?”

  “You . . . you didn’t say anything about changing her nappy!”

  I shot him a furious look.

  “Where the fuck was Sarah?”

  He lifted his chin, equally angry. “Sleeping! She needs it. And don’t you fucking think of waking her.”

  I shot him a sour look as I hefted Beth with one hand and picked up the changing mat and spread it out on the floor with the other.

  As soon as I took off her onesie, the sickly sweet smell of feces wafted up.

  Seth looked chagrined, but I was too angry to cut him any slack when I saw the angry red rash on Beth’s little butt. I cleaned up my daughter and she calmed immediately.

  “Moja princesa,” I whispered, kissing her cap of fine blond baby hair.

  “I’m sorry,” Seth said helplessly. “I’ll know for next time.”

  I nodded, still too angry with him and Sarah to say much. He stood silently as I placed Beth in her crib, and made up the couch with sheets and blankets.

  “Are you going to watch me sleep?” I asked acidly.

  “How come you’re sleeping in here and not . . . ?”

  I jerked my head at Beth, giving him a half-truth and leaving the rest to his imagination.

  He sighed and plopped into the armchair.

  “Sarah isn’t coping,” he said flatly.

  “And you think I am?” I challenged.

  “Yes, you’re coping really well. Better than . . . well, better than any of us expected. Probably better than you expected. But I’ve never seen Sarah like this.” He rubbed his eyes with his fingers. “She won’t talk to me.”

  I knew what he meant, but Sarah wouldn’t talk to me either. She yelled or cried, and she seemed to resent Beth. But I wasn’t going to tell her brother that.

  “I’ve made Sarah an appointment with her doctor, but I couldn’t get one until January 5th.” I shrugged helplessly.

  “Oh, I didn’t know that. Okay,” he said quietly, rising to go. “Thank you.”

  “Sure.”

  There was an awkward pause while he stood with his hands in pockets watching me. I wished he’d just go, but as soon as the door closed behind him, I wished he’d stayed.

  New Year’s Eve began with the steady patter of rain against the window. I opened my eyes blearily, feeling the familiar scratchy dryness of too little sleep.

  It had been a difficult night with Beth waking every two hours. Getting desperate, I’d asked Sarah to take her for one feed so I could get some sleep, but Beth had refused to latch on and both of them ended up in tears. Sarah wasn’t able to express much milk either. I swear, I could make formula in my sleep.

  I looked over to watch my daughter’s sleeping face, her small rosebud lips moving slowly as if she was having a wonderful dream-conversation. I wondered what baby thoughts danced behind those fluttering eyelids.

  My heart filled, bursting with love as I watched my tiny tyrant, dictator of each minute and hour. And I knew it was the start of a lifelong love affair. For the first time in my wretched, chaotic world, I could be truly selfless. She needed me. And no one had ever needed me before.

  I considered snatching another few minutes of sleep, but then she blinked and yawned, totally adorable.

  I plucked her out of her crib and lay her on my chest, feeling her warm weight, her softness, her fragility.

  I must have drifted off to sleep again, because suddenly Sarah was there, grabbing Beth from me, making her yowl.

  “Oh my God, Luka! What were you thinking? You could have rolled on her and crushed her! You could have dropped her? How could you be so irresponsible?”

  Her words speared me because I was afraid they were true. I lashed out in fear and anger.

  “Maybe if you’d managed to feed her just once in the night I wouldn’t be so fucking tired!”

  She jumped, startled. I rarely shouted back when she yelled at me, but she’d found my vulnerability and then surgically widened the wound.

  Beth screamed, hating the noise and tension between us. Sarah’s eyes filled with tears again.

  Instead of staying, soothing and talking to her, I stalked off to the shower, shutting out the sounds as the hot water eased my tired muscles and pounding head.

  God, if only we could stop fighting. But it seemed each day we found new ways to punish each other. Although I’m not sure what the crime was.

  When I walked out of the shower, a towel wrapped around my waist, Sarah was standing in the kitchen with Beth, feeding her a bottle of formula. For a moment, the peaceful scene soothed some of the frustration, the fear, the sheer terror of being responsible for this new life. Do parents stay afraid their whole lives?

  Sarah was smiling, her eyes filled with warmth as she watched our daughter.

  “She has your appetite,” she said quietly, glancing up
at me. “I’m sorry for before. I just get so scared.”

  “I know. So do I.”

  She blinked, surprised.

  “Really? Because you always seem to know what she needs.”

  I smiled, stroking the tip of my pinkie finger along Beth’s petal-soft cheek.

  “She tells me. When she scrunches up her eyes, that means her diaper is full. When she flails her hands in front of her mouth, she’s hungry. When she goes red in the face and screams, she’s tired but won’t admit it, because she’s stubborn. Like her mother.”

  “Like her father.”

  We spoke at the same time and Sarah laughed.

  “Well, one of us is right.” She paused. “Do you think she’ll be a dancer?”

  “Moja princesa can be whatever she wants: builder, bull fighter, ballroom dancer.”

  “But there’s a good chance she’ll be a dancer, don’t you think?”

  I shrugged. “Maybe, I don’t know. No one else in my family dances, or in yours, I think. As long as she’s happy, I don’t care.”

  Sarah sighed.

  “You’re a good father, Luka.”

  A slow pride filled my heart. It was the best compliment I’d ever had. I wrapped my arms around Sarah, resting my chin on her head, my new family.

  She nestled into my chest as the scent of her shampoo filled my lungs. And then Beth broke wind loudly, a look of surprise on her face.

  Sarah wrinkled her nose.

  “I have no idea how something so small can smell so bad.”

  “Aw, mommy didn’t mean it, princesa,” I laughed.

  “I really, really did,” Sarah protested, shoving our daughter into my arms. “You can change her while I shower.”

  I laughed. And it felt good.

  For the rest of the morning, we began to find our rhythm. Sarah even offered to let me sleep for a couple of hours while she and Beth watched TV. I was so exhausted, I didn’t even bother to undress. I just crawled under Sarah’s duvet and passed out.

  Less than an hour later, I jolted awake, Beth’s shrill screams acting like a cattle prod. Sarah burst into the bedroom, holding a red-faced, screeching bundle.

  “She won’t stop!” she snapped, holding Beth at arms’ length.

  I winced as the volume increased, but held her against my chest, cringing as spit-up flowed over my shirt.

  Beth’s crying quietened quickly.

  “I guess she felt sick,” I sighed.

  I rubbed her back as she burped up more air and half-digested formula.

  Sarah just stared at me. “I didn’t know. Why didn’t I know?”

  I phrased my answer as carefully as possible. “It just takes time.”

  She bristled immediately.

  “Are you saying I haven’t spent enough time with her?”

  “No, I’m just saying . . .” Fuck, that was exactly what I was saying. “It’ll take time.”

  She stared at me for a few seconds, weighing my words in case she wanted to toss them back at me.

  “I’m going to get changed. The cab will be here in an hour.”

  She flounced out of the room and I lay backwards with a curse. I’d really have to stop doing that around Beth. I frowned, realizing that I had no clue when she’d start to pick up language. I decided I’d talk to her more in Slovene. It would be cool that she’d be bilingual, too.

  And maybe a small part of me wanted to have something with Beth that Sarah wouldn’t.

  I know. What a bastard.

  Beth lay quietly across my heart, the other side of my t-shirt covered in baby vomit. Funny—I thought I’d mind more.

  Eventually, I dragged myself out of bed and ran a bath for Beth in a tiny plastic tub we stored under the kitchen sink. It was one of my favorite things to do, but no one told me how slippery wet babies are. We’d had a few near misses when she slipped under the water for a second and blew bubbles at me. Luckily her dad has skillful hands, or so I’ve been told.

  Sarah took forever getting ready, which left me with a cozy 10 minutes to shower again and get ready for the New Year’s lunch party we’d been invited to. Some friends of Sarah’s. She said I didn’t know them, but the big news was that her ex, James, was going to be there. I hadn’t decided how I felt about that. I guess I’d see how they were with each other.

  I should care more, but I was too damn tired.

  The cab arrived as the sun came out, and we piled in the back with Beth’s enormous diaper bag, enough formula for two days and a whole load of other shit that Sarah said we needed. I’d already learned not to argue about that. I think it made her feel more secure. Or maybe we really needed it. God, my brain was tired.

  Sarah’s friends lived in a narrow redbrick attached house, like a million others in London, with a small yard at the front, and a bigger one at the rear backing onto the railway line. It looked ordinary outside, but inside it was a designer’s wet dream. They definitely didn’t have kids.

  A woman in a festive red dress hugged Sarah and smiled at me as she ushered us in.

  I wondered what she saw when she looked at us: from the right angle, we were just another set of new parents enjoying the winter sunshine.

  I got kind of lost in the introductions with everyone crowding around to see Beth, and Sarah was enjoying the attention, so I dumped the diaper bag and wandered inside to look for a drink. It would be the first I’d had since Beth came home, but I’d better keep it in check, or I’d probably fall asleep.

  “Well, well! If it isn’t the little Euro twink.”

  I turned around slowly and saw Seth’s bitchy friend Julian smiling at me coldly.

  “What the fuck do you want?” I said rudely.

  “My, my! Touchy, aren’t we? I thought you and Seth hit the rocks. So who are you with today? Working your way through his friends?”

  It was exactly what I’d feared from the moment Seth refused to tell Sarah about us. And looking into Julian’s eyes glittering maliciously, I knew I had to get Sarah out of there before . . .

  “Oh my God! You’re the one they’ve all been talking about!” he screeched, his eyes widening with vindictive delight. “Baby-daddy to Sarah’s little sprog!” He grinned at me. “It’s all a bit ‘Desperate Housewives’, isn’t it? The brother then the sister. Or was it the other way around? Maybe it’s a specialty of yours, keeping it in the family?”

  I wanted to punch the smug grin off his face, but right now I needed him to keep his mouth shut.

  “Julian, I know you don’t like me, although I have no idea why . . .”

  “Wrong. I hate guys like you. You use your pretty face to get whatever you want and you don’t give a shit who gets hurt in the process. I despise your kind.”

  I coughed out a short laugh. He was so very far from being right.

  “Is that what you think? Because it was so much fun at school being bullied for dancing by older kids, being hit on by older guys when I didn’t know what the fuck anything meant. My parents grew up under Communist rule: they were scared of everything. Scared to say what they thought, scared of anything that was ‘different’. Being bi didn’t go down so well.”

  He looked surprised for a second, then his expression clouded over again.

  “Huh, it’s a pity you forgot to tell Seth that you were bi.”

  “He knew,” I said grimly. “He knew but he didn’t want anyone else to. I was just his sordid little secret after all.”

  My voice was bitter, and Julian fell silent.

  “Look, whatever you think of me, for God’s sake, please don’t tell Sarah about me and Seth.”

  “What about you and Seth?” came Sarah’s strained voice from behind me.

  All the blood drained from my face as Julian gasped and quickly disappeared from the room.

  “What about you and Seth?!” Sarah’s voice rose sharply, and Beth squirmed in her arms.

  “Can we talk about this later?” I asked desperately, seeing the inquisitive glances people were throwing our way.
<
br />   Not that I cared about them, but Sarah would.

  “No, I think now would be a really good time.”

  Beth’s crying increased with her mother’s anger.

  I grabbed Sarah’s elbow and pulled her through a doorway into another room.

  I glanced around a utility room crowded with dirty boots, washing machine and clothes dryer. The truth was going to come out. And I knew . . . I knew Sarah would never forgive this betrayal.

  “Well?”

  I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. My heartrate had shot up and I was starting to sweat. This was going to be ugly.

  “I dated Seth. While you were in Australia.”

  Her eyes grew round, pain and shock warring for dominance.

  “You . . . dated my brother? What does that mean—you dated him?”

  “It means we . . . hung out, went on dates . . . I don’t know, dated.”

  She blinked rapidly, her forehead wrinkled with an intense frown of concentration.

  “You dated,” she repeated softly.

  “Yes, we . . .”

  “Oh no! It was him! He was the one . . . the one you were serious about!” She took a shuddering breath. “How long?”

  “Does it matter?” I begged, not wanting her to hurt anymore, not wanting to see the pain in her beautiful eyes.

  “Yes, it fucking matters!” she hissed at me.

  “A few . . . weeks.” Months.

  “Are you still seeing him? Are you seeing my brother behind my back?!”

  “No, God no. It wasn’t like that.”

  “I’d really like to know exactly what it was like!”

  No, you wouldn’t, not when I was in lo—

  “We met at that party you told me to go to. In the note. I didn’t know he was your brother.”

  “How could you not know?” she cried out, her voice loud with disbelief.

  “Because we didn’t do a lot of talking,” I bit out, angry and ashamed.

  Her cheeks flushed.

  “Oh my God, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe this!” She took a gulping breath of air. “I can’t . . . I can’t . . . You’ve had sex with my brother? You’ve been in a bed with my brother and . . .”