9Sex Diaries
Part Thirtythree - Hvratska and Cymru Celebrate Christmas
By Miesque
miesque1973@msn.com

RATING: PG-13 (mild language)
SETTING: Season Seven (aka "Season of the Pod People") into Season Eight. Luka has long since broken up with Droopy McHangdog (a.k.a., Abby Lockhart) and is Alone Again (naturally...)
CATEGORY: Luka Kovac/cast. Romantic/comedy/drama, vague spoof of 'Bridget Jones's Diary'...may be rather humorous, may be angsty, may end with a nuclear bomb wiping out all of Chicago...who knows?
ARCHIVE: If you must, but please inform author. :)
SPOILERS: For Season Seven and Wishful Thinking for Season Eight
TRANSLATION: "Posjedovash moje srce" = "You own my heart"
PREVIOUS INSTALLMENTS: Starter Pistols and Sex Diaries; Fishin' for the Runnin'; Heat Stroke; Grocery Store Cowboy; Cheesecake and Whine; Times Of Your Life; I Want A Cave Man, I Want A Brave Man!; A Bigger Mousetrap; Bless Me, Father; For I Am About to Sin; Out On A Ledge; Have An Egg Instead; Charity; The Devil Cuts Loose; Toads and Falsehoods; Ready to Go; Saying Goodbye; Crazy From the Heart; Danger; Forty Black Balloons; Partied Out; Young Men Coming Aus; Price Check; Going Once...; Check, Please; Eighteen Patients and a Dozen Roses; Life Is Good; A Handful of Pebbles; The Horror...the Horror; Gumballs and Gurneys; Thud; It's Not the Flu
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and several 2AM brain-storming sessions. :)



24 December 2001

5:15AM Awake and full of energy. Called Mum & Dad last night and told them the
news. Went with engagement announcement first. "Well...umm...I'm getting
married!"

Mum began to cry, Dad (apparently on other phone) rather quiet and then kind of
gloopy, and they asked me when it happened. "Umm...not long ago. Are
you...uh...happy?"

"Of course we're happy, dear! We're delighted!" Mum said. "Oh, I can't wait to
meet Luka. He's terribly handsome."

"Yes, he is," I said. Luka was sitting in the kitchen, taking stuff out of the
bags from the baby stores, muttering about the down quilt I bought behind his
back.

"What if the babies are allergic to duck down?" he asked me.

"Uh...Mum, Dad, there's something else."

"Really? What?" they bleated in unison.

"I'm...uh...pregnant."

It is quite amazing how parents tend to over-react. Mum started to sob and
became v. hysterical. Dad a bit calmer but demands to speak w/ Luka. Hand the
phone to Luka, who didn't realize I was talking to my folks and was in for a
surprise when he said "Hello?"
I listened to a one-sided conversation from the kitchen. Have begun chewing my
fingernails again.

"Yes, that's true, sir. But I love Alexandra and intend to take care of her for
the rest of her life...no, sir, my motives are one-hundred percent purely
carnal...I was only joking, sir...yes, I do love her...I think a twenty-gauge
shotgun would be unnecessary, as I'm marrying her anyway...yes, I am going to
marry her...we were engaged before we even found out she was pregnant, sir...no,
sir, I would be delighted if you came to Chicago for the wedding...
absolutely...yes, I'd love to talk to Mrs. Morgan...hello, Mrs. Morgan...yes,
she is a wonderful girl...really? She did? Okay...yes...I am...well, no, we
aren't going to have a big wedding...no ma'am...yes I am a Catholic...uh..."

Rather like listening to train stops being announced. Snatched the phone out of
his hand. "Mum?! What are you saying to Luka?"

"I was only asking him if he was Catholic."

"And what else did you tell him?"

"I told him that you used to play in Gerald Smyth-Hatton's backyard pool when
you were a little girl...naked, if I recall..."

"Mum!!"

"Well, dear, I'm just very upset right now. Pregnant!"

"Yes. And there's another thing."

"Yes...?"

"I'm having twins!"

Figured that would be dramatic enough for today and hung up on her. Became v.
cross and emotional and immediately burst into tears, which Luka seemed to
accept as matter of course. He picked me up and put me to bed. Needed sex then
and we were soon quite naked and Into It, and just as I was about to 'see the
view from the mountain top', so to speak, the bloody 'phone rings. Luka's
concentration was blown and he waited for me to answer.

"Alexandra, dear, you're at Luka's?!" Mum shrieks.

"Of course I'm at Luka's and you know what else?! I'm in bed with him, we're
both naked, and I'm trying to have a bloody orgasm!" I hang up on her and we
finished. Luka rolls off me and lies on his back, looking v. tired.

"Beba, I think that was a little uncalled for. No mother wants to know their
daughter is having sex, even with her fiance..."

I hit him with the pillow and my cellphone rang. Bloody hell. Fumbled around
trying to find the wretched thing. Mum again, in tears. I apologised and tried
to calm her down. "I'm only pregnant with your grandchildren, Mum. It's not
like I got pregnant by bloody Saddam Hussein! I'm pregnant with Luka's babies
and I'm happy and so is he so stop acting like a lunatic!"

"All right, all right!" Mum says, still crying. "I'm sorry, darling. This is
just very sudden and unexpected. Wh...when are you are due?"

"July twenty-eighth," I tell her. Luka began coughing and went into loo for a
drink of water.

"Oh...oh, that's wonderful, dear. So how are you feeling?"

"Fine."

"Really? How is Luka?"

"In a constant state of panic."

"That's normal."

"Is it?" I ask, confused.

"Oh, yes. Your father almost drove me insane when I was pregnant with Alice.
Flapped around me and never let me out of his sight. Of course, the day I went
into labour he drove to the hospital at ninety-five miles an hour...except that
he quite forgot to take *me* with him."

"I hope Luka's a little more level-headed than that! How did you get there?"

"I took a cab."

I burst into laughter, and Mum and I have a v. nice chat about pregnancy and
lunatic husbands. Luka took the phone from me and said 'Hello' to Mum. "Mrs.
Morgan, I'm sorry but it's very late and your daughter needs her sleep. Can you
call tomorrow morning?...yes...thanks. As soon as we set a date, you'll be the
first to know...yes...well, she's the one who wanted sex in the first place,
Mrs. Morgan...goodbye...oof!" I hit him with a pillow and he grabs me and
starts tickling me. We made love again and I fell asleep on top of him, quite
exhausted.

Am now in the kitchen, writing out cheques and pondering Meaning of Life. Have
two babies growing inside me. Hope they get along well and don't develop Twin
Language that I can't understand and end up murdering us all in our sleep...God,
really shouldn't let my mind wander at five in the morning, v. bad for mental
health.

5:45AM Stood in bedroom doorway and watched Luka sleep. Amazing to have
someone like him in my life. So gorgeous and so sweet. Treats me so well. Am
v. emotional now but am resolved not to become typical Weepy, Hormonal Pregnant
Woman. Switch on telly.

6:15AM Still crying over FTD commercial. Little boy giving Grandma card for
her 98th birthday and [page stained with teardrops, handwriting illegible]
bloody hell can't stop crying.

6:38AM Crying over story about a factory explosion in Bangladesh. Really
should not watch CNN this early in the morning.

6:45AM Crying because I'm missing my turtles.

6:58AM Crying because I can't find the remote control.

7:15AM Crying because I can't stop crying.

7:25AM Luka came in, watched me crying, then made me get up and eat breakfast.
Cried because I burned the toast. He made me sit down at table and I cried over
story in paper about family that lost everything in fire. Realised it's
Christmas Eve and cried some more, because I forgot to buy any crackers for
dinner tonight and because I cannot cook. Luka promised he'll make the turkey
tonight, with all the trimmings (mince pies?). Cried because he's so sweet. He
finally gave up and took me back to bed and I cried because he's so wonderful in
bed. Cried more because he is taking holiday off to be with me. Cried as I
wrap final presents for people at work, which Luka will take to hospital for me.
Cried because he hasn't started shaking me and demanding I stop bloody crying.

7:50AM Luka gone to take presents to hospital. Jakko sitting beside me on
couch, howling as I cry. Watching old episode of "Lassie" where Timmy falls
into the well for the nineteen-thousandth time-they really do need to improve
safety codes on farms run by morons (later in the episode Lassie filled out the
family's farm subsidy papers and did their taxes), and sobbing. Then it starts
snowing. Crying because of *that*. Get up and drink entire bottle of orange
juice.

8:10AM Am mental and emotional wreck. To hell with being calm and rational
NonHormonal Woman. Letting it all hang loose. Did not even comb hair and won't
change out of bathrobe 'til dinner time. Luka came home and started preparing
turkey. See him take something truly disgusting out of the turkey's body
cavity. "What's that?"

"The neck, entrails...you do know you're supposed to take that out, don't you?"

Start crying when I realise that if I had made dinner tonight I would have
killed my fiance.
Luka just stares at me, perplexed, holding bag of entrails, until another look
at bag causes me to rush to the bathroom. He sits beside me as I hug the
toilet, stroking my back and being so sweet. Carries me back to bed and tucks
me in. "Just go to sleep, beba. Don't worry about a thing. No TV, no
newspaper...Jakko, get the hell out of here!...and tonight I'll wake you up for
a nice dinner. Okay?"

I just nod and curl up, trying not to think of giblets and dead Bangladeshi
factory workers.

(Luka later kindly explained to me that my cooking turkey would not have killed
him, as having left the bag of giblets inside the turkey would have rendered the
bird inedible anyway. Does not really make me feel better, but there you are.)


5:15PM Feel a bit better. Luka makes me sit on the couch, and I try to knit
stockings for the babies.

5:30PM Yarn everywhere, Jakko tangled up, Luka muttering that it isn't cute at
all, but would have been quite funny if the dog had choked to death in the yarn.
Do not think this is funny and threaten to stab him with needles.

6:15PM Turkey done. Perfect, nice and juicy. I go in and take quick shower
and dress up in v. best 'holiday' dress (black velvet boat-necked thing with
lacy thing around top that makes me resemble overweight Pilgrim) and best shoes,
and we sit down for dinner. V. delicious. He jokes that he simply had it all
delivered and just sprayed the house the Roasting Turkey Perfume. But that is
not true. He is excellent cook. Perhaps I will try and watch him and see how
he does it. After dinner we sat on his couch and he allowed me *one* *teeny*
sip of red wine, and no more, then we decorated the Christmas tree-a small but
handsome spruce fir. Small argument about lights that won't work but after a
while they are all working (not blinking, thank God, as that irritates Luka to
no end) and then we sit on the couch and snuggle. Lovely Christmas Eve. Still
regret that I forgot to buy crackers.



25 December 2001

7:05AM Luka wakes me up and makes my breakfast-plain oatmeal and a glass of
apple juice. "Somebody drank all my orange juice."

"That was me," I confess. "I just got so thirsty yesterday."

"Ah." He laughs and carries me back to the living room. Have feeling I won't
be walking a great deal during this pregnancy. So nice to be loved. Get
awfully goopy about things like this, and hug him for a while. "Come on, I've
got to get your presents."

"Ooo..presents! Anything from Cartier? Limoges? Tiffany? Baskin Robbins?"

"Umm...no...though the idea of ice cream has its merits, since it has calcium.
But I got you a few things in Croatia." He gives me a little box. I open it
eagerly and find a little silver icon of Blessed Hosanna of Kotor. "She was a
Dominican nun," Luka says. It's quite beautiful. Then he gives me another
little package. This time a little charm. "St. Blasius," he explains with a
grin. "Patron saint of Dalmatia. Once you marry me, you'll be a Dalmatian,
too."

"Just one of hundreds, huh?" I laugh.

"And the last gift," he says, handing me a box wrapped in a piece of
hand-stitched cloth. "The cloth is also a gift. My...my mother stitched it."

"What does it say?" I ask, looking at the Croatian words stitched around the
edges.

"'Blow here'."

I give him a whack. "What does it say?"

"It says 'Come along and grow old with me'. Mama always loved Browning."

My hands are trembling a little as I open the last package, and inside I find a
hand-painted 'nesting doll', like the ones from Russia. Only the lettering is
clearly Latin. I open each one up and am amazed with the detailing. Around the
neck of the smallest one, however, is a gold ring.

"An engagement ring," he explained. "To replace that little plastic thing
you've been wearing."

I look at the 'fake' ring he gave me a few weeks ago, and blush. I have become
v. attached to that ring. Start crying as he slips the new ring on my finger.
"I got a big Christmas bonus this year," he explained. "Romano said it was a
computer glitch, but I couldn't find any reason to argue about it, since it made
it easier to buy this ring...it's not too... uh... gaudy, is it?"

"No. It's beautiful." It really is a beautiful ring. Small diamond solitaire,
nothing too flashy. "You really are going to marry me...hard to believe that
sometimes. I can't imagine why you'd waste your time on me," I tell him. "I'm
such a ditz and I can't cook..."

"Well, you're *my* ditz," he grins. "And I can cook for us. So don't worry
about that. I love you and I can't imagine my life without you."

"Even if I should forget where I put the children?"

"Well, we'll see how it goes with these two and if it doesn't work out we'll
raise poodles. Besides, you're not as bad as you think. You'll be a great
mother. In order to deal with a child, you have to have the mind of a child..."

I hit him with a pillow and he grins at me. "This is the moment where I stop
talking, I think."

I give him his presents: a tennis racket (for the tennis balls Dave gave him), a
pair of silver cufflinks, and a little heart made of 24k gold. "What's this?"
he asks, he asks, holding it up.

"My heart."

"Well, I always did think it was made of gold," he says with a smile. He flips
it over and sees the words written on the back. "What does this say?" he asks.

"It's in Welsh."

"Okay..."

"It says '"It says 'Cara ydy mo cara a chyfnewidiadau pryd 'i chyfnewidiad
caffaeliadau, ai bachau ag 'r fudwr at dynnu: O, na! Dydy an bob amser-'n
sefydlog farcia, a dremiau acha dymhestloedd a ydy erioed cysgogedig'."

"Okay..."

I laughed. "It means, 'Love is not love which alters when it alteration finds,
or bends with the remover to remove: O, no! It is an ever-fixed mark, that
looks on tempests and is not moved by them...'"

"Ah." He looks down at the Welsh words. "Oh...yeah, you're Welsh."

"Half Welsh. Mum is American...of French, German, Italian and Greek ancestry.
She was born in Alabama and raised in Tennessee. But she learned Welsh, so she
could live with Dad. I think she speaks it even better than he does."

"There's been quite a Welsh language revival in Cymru, huh?" he grinned.

"You pronounced it right!"

"I tried."

"Say something to me in Croatian."

He took a sip of his wine, looked far away for a moment, then looked at me.
"Posjedovash moje srce." [Luka helped me spell it out later]

"What does that mean?"

"Let me show you." He picked me up and carried me to bed. What a perfect
Christmas.

To be continued...