TITLE: The Mummy-in-Law Returns
AUTHOR: Miesque
RATING: PG-13 (mild language, sexual situations)
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?
DISCLAIMER: Luka Kovac is the property of Warner Bros., Amblin
Entertainment and NBC. I am borrowing him for entertainment purposes
only and if TPTB want to sue me for copyright infringement, they
aren't going to have much luck getting money out of me, because I am
as poor as Job's turkey. <G> Dr. Alexandra Morgan is my invention.
ARCHIVE: If you must, but please inform author. :)

SPOILERS: For Season Seven and Wishful Thinking for Season Eight
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; Gumdrops
and Gurneys; It's Not the Flu; Thud; Hvratska and Cymru Celebrate
Christmas; Snow Business; New Year's Dissolutions; Into Sisters;
Sometimes You're the Windshield; Kovac Pride; Nuptuality; The Trouble
With Harold
AUTHOR'S NOTE: Thanks to Ellen Hursh for editing and several 2AM
brain-storming sessions.



Luka rubbed his forehead, fighting off a headache without much
success. He had been on his feet for approximately ten hours without
a break. The coffee machine was broken. The vending machines were
*empty*. Kerry was on a tear. Romano was popping in every few
minutes to annoy everyone. Malucci had been late and looked
miserable. Jing-Mei was suffering from a terrible head cold. Cleo
Finch had called in sick, the flu finally getting the better of her.
Peter Benton was also sick, but plugging away with triage. Carter was
being his usual charming self.

It wasn't a good day. Even worse, the day was only going to get
worse. Luka's future mother-in-law was coming in tonight, and as soon
as his shift ended he'd be driving with Alexandra to O'Hare to pick
her up. Oh, *joy*!

It wasn't that Luka dreaded meeting Alexandra's mother-Althea-tonight.
It was simply a bit too much to put on his plate today. He was
tired, his back was killing him, his leg was burning and it seemed
like every patient in chairs had some kind of mysterious ailment that
could mean quarantining the entire hospital and calling the Center for
Disease Control for emergency advice. "Spots! He has spots all over
his body!" Malucci had been very excited about the man's spots, until
it became obvious that the spots had been made by a red marker. It
had only taken a good scrubbing and a call up to Psych to clear *that*
up.

Kerry was nipping at everybody's heels like a rabid cow dog. She had
even snarled at Luka, simply because, in his exhausted state, he'd
forgotten to sign a patient out. That was such a rare thing that he'd
wondered if something was really wrong. She looked pale and her eyes
were blood-shot. Finally, after treating a woman with shingles, he
tracked her down and cornered her in the lounge.

"Kerry, you're acting like a lunatic. What's wrong?"

"I'm just fine."

"'Fine' meaning biting the heads off residents, chewing out a
terrified med student, threatening to pass Malucci through a wood
chipper and then verbally abusing me for a brief memory lapse?"

"I said I'm fine!"

He made a "hrmph" sound and crossed his arms, staring down at her
until she finally looked up at him. "Well?"

"Well what?"

"What's the matter? Come on, Kerry. You know full well that whatever
you tell me stays with me. I don't..."

"I'm just tired, okay? I've had a busy week and then...umm...the
conference in Reno got cancelled."

"Really? Why?"

"I don't know. It was just cancelled, all right?!"

He sighed. "Kerry, please...you know it doesn't help to take your
frustrations out on the people you work with. Especially if you're
the *boss*."

She turned away from him and yanked the refrigerator door open.
Several condiment bottles spilled out with a nerve-rattling crash.
Exasperated, Kerry knelt to start picking them up, but Luka would have
none of that. He crouched down and brushed her hands aside. "Stop
it, Kerry."

"I knocked them all over, I can pick them up!" she snapped.

"What has gotten into you?" he said, shaking his head, as he picked up
a bottle of Hellman's Honey Mustard and got a bunch of the yellow gunk
on his hand. "You're acting like a-..."

He wasn't expecting it at all. But suddenly Kerry was kissing him.
Right on the mouth. His position was awkward, and he had to brace
himself against the refrigerator to keep from falling over. For a
brief second, he kept his mouth closed tight, but then turned his head
a little and moved into the kiss. But then she pulled away and
scrambled to her feet. She was flushed, eyes averted, gasping.

"I'm sorry."

"Kerry, it's all right, I..."

"I'm sorry...I have to go. Patients...waiting..." Then she turned
and fled from the room.

Luka leaned against the counter and rubbed his forehead. He had long
ago accepted the fact that Kerry's feelings for him ran deeper than
mere friendship, and had done his best not to encourage it while at
the same time doing his best to be a good friend to her. God knew the
woman needed friends. After all, he knew very few people that he
liked or respected more than Kerry. But he didn't return those
feelings. They just weren't there. And he hated seeing her so hurt.
She had painted herself into a corner by not defending herself against
rumors about her sexuality, and she was paying the consequences for
it.

Okay, so what do I do? Sit her down for a long talk about
'boundaries' and appropriate behavior-thus, humiliating the poor woman
even more? But then again, he'd kissed her back. He *had* kissed her
back, and he'd liked it. She was a beautiful, sexy woman that any man
would feel blessed to have in his life. He loved Alexandra, with his
whole heart. But he also loved Kerry, but not in that special way.
God, there had to be something he could do to make things right.

The wicked part of Luka was jumping up and down with glee.
"Polyamory! Polyamory!" Oh, shut up, he told himself and sat down at
the table, suddenly feeling weary. What was worse was that he had no
coffee to sip while he mulled this over. He wondered if he should
tell Alexandra about this? Would she get upset? Would she simmer
about it? Would she attack Kerry with an axe? It barely bore
contemplating.

Perhaps it's best not to mention it.



Kerry wanted to be alone. She crutched down the hall, struggling to
keep her tears at bay. God, she'd made such a damned fool of herself.
She had gone and kissed him. Kissed him and then stood there like an
idiot while he tried to *apologize*, like it was *his* fault. What
the hell had she been thinking? He was in love with another woman, he
was engaged, and he was going to be a father again! And she'd gone
and kissed him!

God, I'm such a fool! she told herself. Such a stupid, stupid fool!
She turned into the ladies room and crutched into a stall, slamming
the door shut and locking it. For a moment, she beat against the door
with her crutch, venting all her anger and hurt. Then she heard the
door of the stall next to hers open and somebody scurrying out,
clearly terrified.

For a few moments, she leaned her head against the stall door,
fighting hopelessly against her tears. But they finally started
flowing, and she broke down, sobbing. She sat down on the toilet and
just let the tears flow. Oh, she thought, at least I have something
to blow my nose on. That only made her start crying again, as she
felt so pathetic. She was almost forty years old, she was alone and
everyone thought she was a lesbian.

God...not only am I stupid fool, I'm a *lonely* stupid fool and it's
my own damned fault. If only I had stood up for myself. If only I
had fired Carol, then had Abby relocated to Saskatchewan in the trunk
of a Cadillac, I might have had a chance. But now there's Alexandra.
For whom I feel no hostility at all. Hell, I even like her. She's a
nice, kind woman who'll be a wonderful wife for him and a superb
mother for their children. I wish I hated her. I wish she was a
shrewish, mean-spirited bitch who treated him like shit, then I'd be
able to fire her and send her back to England. But I can't. She
loves Luka. She makes him happy.

Oh, but it was so nice to kiss him. I've been wanting to kiss him
since the day I hired him. She closed her eyes and remembered that
day as clearly as if it had happened just minutes ago. His affable
smile, his raspy voice saying, "You'll be fair", and that little wink
he'd given her as he'd said he'd see her tomorrow. Her heart had done
a flip. But she'd been afraid to take her chance then. Afraid to
just walk up to him and say, "Hey, how about we have a drink after
work?" Why?! Why hadn't she done it?

She blew her nose on some toilet paper and wiped her eyes. She still
had to work today. She was still ER chief, whether she was
desperately in love with Luka Kovac or not. Damn fool, she called
herself again. She pulled herself together, just like always, dried
her eyes, and stepped out of the stall. As she was splashing cool
water on her face and trying to eradicate the taste of Croatian from
her lips, Abby Lockhart came in. "Hi."

"Hi."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes."

Abby studied Kerry for a moment, then shrugged and went into a stall.
Kerry pressed wet paper towels to her eyes, hoping the swelling would
go down, then headed back out into the battlefield of her ER.
Tonight, however, she had every intention of drinking herself into a
stupor. It was the only way she knew how to get through the night.



23 January 2002

9:13AM Luka gone to work. Sat on butt on kitchen floor, scrubbing in
a circle around me, as per Luka's instructions not to get on hands and
knees, but my bloody back was *killing* me, so I finally gave up.
Will make Luka do mopping when he gets back. Mum's flight arrives at
6:15PM tonight. Ugh.

9:28AM Spilled entire bottle of Pine-Sol on kitchen floor. Mopping
in order to mop up stuff to mop with rather...frightening.

9:45AM Dave dropped by with can of mixed nuts. Oooo! Rather nice
man, sometimes.

9:58AM Have eaten all the peanuts in the can, which won't please
Luka, as he doesn't like the other kinds. Really hates almonds in
particular, and will grouch at me for not saving him any peanuts at
all. But couldn't help myself. Desperate need for salt lately. Luka
suggested I go and buy a salt lick.

10:15AM Watching C-SPAN while I dust. Looked up "debuncture" in
dictionary. Still doesn't make any sense.

10:25AM Dick Gephardt looks like alien. Where are his eyebrows?
Also has amazing ability to make a person sleep. Perhaps he *is* an
alien...

10:38AM Watering plants. Luka able to keep plants alive somehow, so
I'm afraid to touch them.
My African violets (the ones I bought to replace the ones I killed at
Jane's) are thriving under his care. Plus the little mini-roses in
the planter are doing marvelously, all because they like raspy voice
of tall Croatian. My gerba daisies are happy, at least...but only
since they moved in with Luka. Sigh. "I just water them, that's
all," he claims. Right.

10:49AM Doorbell. Dry cleaning arrived. Jakko again went nuts over
Sal (who delivers dry cleaning) and tried to bite his ankles. Kicked
Jakko, who looked offended and sat in Luka's chair (a sign of
insecurity, as he likes Luka but refuses to admit it). Stain still on
Luka's jacket. Berate Sal for this, but he only shrugs. "It won't
come out, ma'am."

11:08AM Doing dishes. Cut finger with knife. Stood with hand over
sink, glassy-eyed and contemplating beauty and uncopyable *redness* of
blood.

11:11AM Impossible to vacuum with big bandage on finger. But must
slog on. Mystery stain under couch. Where did that come from?

11:35AM Called Luka with questions regarding Mystery Stain. He
mutters sometimes to the effect of "Why d'you think the couch is
*there*?", which means he knows where the stain came from and isn't
willing to discuss it. He sounds strange-a bit uneasy and
off-balance.

11:48AM Jing-Mei called from hospital and asked how I was doing.

"Oh, I'm well and fine. Petulant dog, stain on Luka's favorite
jacket, strange stain on living room floor under the couch, cut
finger. How about you?"

"Not bad. Hey, Luka said you were majorly into salt lately. Vitamin
B deficiency, maybe?"

Vitamin B. Hmm...

12:05PM Internet scary place. Vitamin B deficiency related to being
abducted by aliens. Looking up various kinds of stuff I should eat
that might have Vitamin B (salt not exactly good thing to eat all the
time while pregnant). Oh, I see. I should eat more *nuts*, besides
more pork, dried yeast and legumes.

12:38PM Looking through Martha Stewart magazine again, for extra dose
of Insufficient Domesticity Guilt. Shall attempt to make deviled eggs
for appetizers tonight. As Luka would say, 'Go with God'.

12:45PM Eggs boiling. Per instructions in recipe, it is important
not to let them boil *too* long or will end up with greenish-colored
'moons' and who wants to eat green eggs?

12:48PM Unless you're Sam I Am, of course. And considering my
cooking 'skills', ham would likely be green, too.

1:35PM Am so bloody proud of myself. Eggs came out perfectly, every
yolk lovely yellow. As per instructions, I whipped them all up v.
nicely w/ beater and all the whites cut up perfectly. Luka will be so
proud of me!

1:45PM 20 lovely deviled eggs chilling in the fridge. No disasters.
Hoorah! Phone! Someone I can brag to!

2:15PM Telemarketer not impressed with deviled egg success, and after
three attempts to sell me time-share condo in Florida, finally offered
to take me off her list of potential clients and hung up on me. Then
Jane called almost moment I hung up. Just broke up with boyfriend.
Refrained from reminding her that boyfriend is *married* MP. Sobbing,
bleating like sheep, claiming that she is utterly heartbroken and
shall shave head, become lesbian and join order of nuns. She and
Alice should get together and compare notes. And she didn't give a
bloody damn about my deviled eggs, either.

3:18PM Luka called again, and listened patiently as I boasted about
deviled eggs, and congratulated me heartily. Then became usual
practical self, which is often v. irritating. "Did you make anything
else?"

4:02PM Still digging through recipe books, and no success yet at
finding anything that looks good.

4:15PM Hamburgers?

4:22PM Oh, bloody hell. I'll order a pizza.

4:35PM No, not pizza. I know! That restaurant down the street
delivers complete meals, anything you want. Rather expensive, but
worth it.

5:01PM Dug through phone book, found number and spent twenty bloody
minutes arguing with them about quantity of pot roast with potatoes
and gravy, etc. Just need containers of roast, gravy, potatoes, corn,
green beans and warm rolls. Gah, almost time for Luka to come home,
and stuff still isn't here. V. irritating.

5:09PM $45.57 for pot roast meal for three. Ugh.

5:21PM Luka home! Smells pot roast and seems impressed with my
efforts, until he notices all the containers in the trash (I put the
pot roast and roasted potatoes into the slow cooker, and got the beans
and corn and gravy into bowls). Looks at me for a moment, then
suddenly laughs. "You're one in a million, Alex." Samples one of the
deviled eggs and sings my praises, saying that perhaps there is hope
for me yet.

5:28PM Off we go to O'Hare. V. nervous and jittery.



Luka got Alexandra a cup of hot cocoa and sat beside her, watching
planes land and take off (actually, watching their *lights* land and
take off). He found it interesting that airport bars were *always*
packed. When he'd ordered the hot cocoa, he'd gotten a few strange
looks, but that was par for the course. People often looked at him
funny.

"So what is your mother like?" he asked her, sipping his own powerful
black coffee.

"Very competent," Alexandra answered stiffly. "She's SuperMum."

"Oh, come on, beba. Nobody's perfect."

"She is."

He rolled his eyes slightly and put his elbows on his knees, leaning
forward and watching people walk by, listening to snippets of
conversation.

"...that stewardess was very rude..."

"...God, I think I'm gonna be sick...?"

"...I swear there were pieces of broken glass in my veal parmesan..."

"What do you mean you're pregnant!"

"...and then she says to me, she says, 'I always wanted a bag that
size, because they're so good at holding everything', and so I say,
'Yes I like bags like these, because they're so big and can hold
everything.'..."

Closing his eyes, Luka sipped his coffee and thought about Kerry. She
was probably home by now. He hoped she'd made it there safely. She
had avoided him for the rest of the day, and the only time he'd seen
her, after she'd kissed him in the lounge, was as she was leaving.
She'd been walking out to her car, carrying a stack of charts. It
wasn't right. But he didn't know what to do about it. Like he could
just walk up to her and say, "Hey, Kerry, how's it goin'?" He wished
he could ask for Alexandra's advice without clueing her in to what had
happened. It was really best that he not tell her about the kiss...

"...and I'm really nervous about this."

"What?"

"I said I'm really nervous about Mum coming."

"Well, I suppose that's normal." Yes, he thought. This is another
*excellent* reason to not tell Alexandra about the kiss. "But I'm
sure it'll be okay." He remembered when Abby's mother had showed up.
Somehow he doubted Althea Morgan would be a raving lunatic, but if she
was wearing a thin red dress and platform shoes, he knew he'd have a
very hard time coping. He glanced at Alexandra. It was impossible to
think that someone as well-adjusted and good-humored could have been
raised by anyone other that a relatively normal mother, so he calmly
flipped that thought from his mind and finished his coffee.

"The flight is late. It crashed. I know it crashed..." Alexandra
stood up before Luka could stop her and began pacing back and forth.

"Beba, calm down. Sit."

"But I'm so bloody nervous!"

"Well, you're being nervous for *three*. And it's not helping. So
sit."

Sighing, she sat down again. "I can't stand this."

"The flight is only ten minutes late, Alex. It's probably in a
holding pattern right now. I'll go get you some more cocoa. Write in
your journal or something."

"Left it at home."

"Oh." Luka had often spent hours sitting, watching as Alexandra wrote
in her journal. Sometimes he said outrageous things to her, just to
see if she was writing everything he said. It made him feel like a
character in a novel. He dug in his coat pocket. "Here. Use this
Hare Krishna pamphlet to 'journal' on."

She glared at him, then started giggling. "I'm being a nut, aren't
I?"

"Yes. But you're my nut. Speaking of nuts...you ate all the peanuts
Dave brought today!"

"I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. Besides, they're good sources of
Vitamin B."

He snickered. He loved how she said 'vitamin'. Of course, there were
other words he liked to hear her say. Particularly in moments of
passion...

"Oh, the flight just landed!" she said excitedly, standing up again.
"Now I'm nervous and excited. I haven't seen Mum in a long time, and
now she's in Chicago for more than a month and...Luka, I feel a bit
faint..."

"Faint?!"

"Yes...umm..."

"Sit!" He grabbed her and practically dragged her back to the chair.
She sat down wearily and sighed.

"I'm okay..."

"No, dammit. I told you you've been overdoing it. Why wouldn't you
listen to me?!"

"I just feel a little light-headed is all. I'll be okay. Luka,
please..."

"Have you eaten anything since lunch?"

"No..."

"As soon as we collect your mother, we're going to County. No...I
won't hear you arguing about it," he said firmly when she shook her
head. She scowled at him, and looked ready to dig in and refuse to
budge, like a stubborn child. "I want you checked before we go home.
Period. No argument. End of conversation. Meanwhile...uh...I'm
gonna get something besides this damned cocoa for you. A sandwich,
maybe. Just stay there, and don't move. Breathe evenly. Please,
beba...for your own good."

She rolled her eyes and laughed a little. "Luka, airport food is
always lousy..."

He turned and scowled at her, and she shrank back into the chair,
sighing and shaking her head.
Luka trotted to a food bar, purchased a ham and cheese sandwich, and
trotted back to Alexandra, who scrutinized the sandwich for a moment
before unwrapping it and beginning to nibble listlessly. Luka
observed her carefully, fighting the urge to make her lie down and let
him check her pulse and heart rate.

It kind of startled him, how much he loved Alexandra. How much he
wanted to protect her, care for her. Every day, he found her more and
more fascinating, more entertaining, more refreshing for his spirits.
He could only hope he made her just as happy. No matter how many
times Kerry kissed him, or if Savannah made a thousand propositions to
him, he'd still belong to Alexandra.
There was no doubt in his mind. He'd just have to figure out some way
to talk to Kerry...

"Luka, what are you thinking about?"

"What?" He sat up, startled. "Yes?"

"You looked kind of far away."

"Oh. Yes. I was thinking about...about Kerry. Her conference in
Reno was cancelled. Uh...she's...you know, really lonely. I just
wish there was something I could do to help her."

"She's not really included a lot, is she? In social things, I mean.
Besides which...I don't believe this twaddle about her being a
lesbian."

"She's not a lesbian."

"I know. Which is another problem."

"Why?"

"Because she's in love with you."

He started coughing-loudly-which caused several people to look at him.
He struggled to regain control of himself, then stared at Alexandra,
wondering what he should say. How had she picked up on that? And how
the hell was he supposed to explain it?

"Well...I...how did you know that?"

"I'm female, Luka. We tend to pick up on stuff like that. Of all the
women you work with, and of all the women you probably deal with every
day, she's the one I feel the most...umm... threatened by, really.
But it's not jealousy, really. It's something else. Something I
can't really define. I know she'd never try to come between us, after
all. I'm rational enough on that end."

Luka looked away, remembering Kerry's kiss, suddenly feeling not quite
so sure about Alexandra's 'rationality'. Now he could put his finger
on it. There had been a kind of desperation behind Kerry's move
today. A final, last-ditch effort. And it made him feel like a total
heel. Had he done something...said something...to make Kerry think he
was encouraging her? No, surely not. He didn't play games with
people. If he had felt any attraction of that kind to Kerry, he knew
he'd have been up front about it, instead of just giving off mixed
signals that would only cause Kerry to stumble. Suddenly weary, Luka
rubbed his forehead.

"Bozhe!"

"Exactly."

"I'm sorry..."

"It's not your fault."

"It is my fault!" he snapped. "She is my friend and I don't want her
to get hurt. I'd kill anybody that hurt her, and here I am, hurting
her myself!"

"Luka...did something happen today that I should know about?" He
glanced at her, unable to meet her gaze. She shifted in her seat and
waited. "Luka..."

"She kissed me."

"Oh." She looked away, her face unreadable.

"Alexandra..."

"Luka, if I got crazy about every woman that kissed you, or fantasized
about kissing you, I'd be currently making little houses out of
tongue-depressors at a mental hospital."

"You're not upset?" he choked.

"Upset? Upset isn't the word for it. Did you kiss her back?"

He swallowed nervously, licking his lips. "Yes."

She crossed her arms and stared down at her bulging belly-where his
babies were currently bumping around, making their existence known.
Luka didn't know what else to say. The tension in the air was so
thick he could barely breathe.

"Baby..."

"Did you like kissing her?"

"Yes."

"At least you're being honest."

"I always try to be honest, Alex."

"Do you love her back?"

"I love her. But I don't *love* her. Alexandra, please..."

Tears were in her eyes, and she looked him right in the eye. "I think
Kerry should be godmother to the twins."

That totally floored him. "Wh-what?"

"She should be their godmother."

"Why do you say that?"

"Because then she would feel like she belonged. That she was a part
of you."

"I don't think she'd accept."

"We should still offer. I'll offer it to her. I like Kerry and she's
a good, kind woman who deserves to be treated with respect, not as
some kind of poor, desperate, lonely spinster who should be indulged.
I want to do this. I won't take no for an answer. I'm going to ask
her. And that's that."

They were so involved in their conversation that at first they didn't
notice people walking up the ramp. It wasn't until a man in a
painfully loud Hawaiian shirt and khaki shorts was greeted by several
children that Luka and Alexandra turned around and realized what was
happening. They stood up and made their way up to the gate and
waited, Alexandra craning her neck, eagerly watching for her mother.
Luka was surprised when Alexandra slipped her hand into his. "I love
you," she whispered.

"You do? Even now?"

"Even more. You're a good, decent man, Luka. Nothing will ever
change that."

Luka's first view of his future mother-in-law was rather startling.
She was a tall, slender woman of (according to Alexandra), fifty-six,
but Luka could barely imagine her being more than thirty. She was a
breathtaking beauty, with sleek dark hair, creamy, smooth white skin
and an elegant, dignified way of carrying herself. He could see where
Alexandra got her looks.

"You can put your tongue back in your mouth, dear," Alexandra
whispered to Luka, who pretended to be exasperated by rolling his
eyes.

"Alexandra Marie ferch Thomas Morgan! Oh, darling!" Althea rushed up
the ramp and dropped her bag before throwing her arms around Alexandra
and hugging her tightly. "Oh, my beautiful baby...and she's having
babies!" Luka was startled when the woman promptly burst into tears.
Quite an emotional bunch, he thought, before stepping forward and
bravely extending his hand.

"I'm..."

"Yes, yes...Dr. Luka Kovac. Oh, it's just so lovely to meet you!"
Althea said happily, throwing her arms around Luka's neck and hugging
him. He felt a little light-headed. She hugged rather *tightly*.

"Nice <gasp> to meet you."

"Oh, he is good-looking, dear. But it's odd how he doesn't look quite
like the photograph you sent. Very strange...I suppose you're one of
those people who never looks like the same person in any two photos,
hm?"

"Yes..."

"And you're from Croatia, yes?"

"Uh..."

"Well, come on then, children, let's get my bags and we'll head back
to your flat, Alexandra."

"First we're making a stop at the hospital...Alexandra needs to be
looked over..."

"Oh, Luka!" Alexandra said, stomping her foot. "I'm fine. I ate my
sandwich like a good girl and I've told you a thousand times that if I
feel like I need to see Dr. Coburn I *will*. And I don't think I need
to. Let's just go *home*, all right?"

"Oh...uh...by the way, Mrs. Morgan..."

"Althea."

"Althea." Luka swallowed. "Alexandra is living with me now. The
toilet in her flat pretty much died and so she...uh..."

"Yes. I suppose that would make sense. You are engaged after all,
and Alexandra is pregnant." Althea didn't exactly look thrilled. In
fact, she studied Luka for a moment, sizing him up with shrewd eyes.
Luka sensed a spine of steel and a heart of gold in this woman, and
waited patiently for her final verdict. "Yes. It's perfectly
understandable." With that, she smiled at Alexandra, who returned a
thin, nervous smile. This, Luka thought as they headed toward baggage
claim, was going to be an interesting month.



11:25PM Dinner went well. Hoping Mum didn't realise I'd had food
delivered. She 'oohed' and 'aahed' over my deviled eggs and then
insisted on cleaning up the dishes, forcing poor Luka to sit and watch
as she worked. I'm dressed in outfit with daisies all over it and
feel increasingly ridiculous. Mum just as slim and well-turned-out as
day she married Dad. I've seen the wedding pictures. My wedding
photos shall be of incredibly handsome man and waddling, fat woman
wrapped up in off-white. Shall resemble Faberge easter egg.

Luka.

Kerry kissed him. Okay...allow me moment of irrational, ridiculous
screaming fit. The bloody bitch! How dare she lock lips with my
man?! Shall maim her, then torture her with bamboo shoots under
fingernails, force her to eat my cooking (v. savage and vicious),
listen to Tony Blair speeches and then shall kill her in gruesome
fashion. Arrrggh!!

Okay. Now I'm calm. Can handle this. Kerry is v. nice woman whom I
like. If it had been another woman, I would be much angrier and would
be making her eat shepherd's pie and haggis. I have committed myself
to asking her to be godmother to the twins. Shall insist on it until
she caves in. I will not allow her to think I feel insecure or
jealous or even vaguely psychotic. Though I am all three. Here I am,
fat and waddling like duck, with aching back and frequent urination
and swollen ankles, emotional turmoil, the whole bloody lot while
Kerry is tearing around with fiery red hair and beautiful bone
structure. Limp hardly a factor. Since when have disabled people
been asexual? Obviously she is not. Bloody twaddle, rumors of her
being lesbian. Lesbians don't commonly kiss engaged men, do they?

Bloody, bloody, bloody hell.

Luka came in a minute ago, discarding his tie. Struggled to give him
charming smile and to appear cool and collected. He just raised his
eyebrow at me. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing!" I chirp.

"Really? You have that look on your face...kind of like Jack
Nicholson in 'The Shining', after
he busted through that door with an axe. You look ready to kill."

"I'm fine," I squeak like silly twit.

"No, you're not. You're upset. Tell me what's wrong."

"Ugh."

"Is it your mother or Kerry?"

"Both."

"Baby, you know I love you. Why would I risk *everything*? And as
for your mother, she's a very nice woman."

"She's bloody perfect. It's so humiliating. I'll be fat and bloated
at my wedding, waddling up the aisle and probably knocking over
candles during the service and forgetting how to speak English
coherently, and you'll look gorgeous and Mum will be thin and
Vogueish, as if she's never seen a Twiglet in her life and lives on
watercress and tonic water."

Didn't appreciate it when he started laughing. He turned and looked
at me with those *eyes* of his and grinned. "First of all, *you're*
gorgeous, beba. Secondly, living on watercress and tonic water would
make a person look pretty bad after a while. And thirdly, have you
ever seen pictures of your mother when she was pregnant?" He began
clattering stuff on my vanity table, digging through my jewellery box.
What the bloody hell is he doing?

"Probably," I say sullenly. Not sure if I have or not.

"And don't you figure she probably felt kind of insecure, too? I
mean, look at you. You're a knockout. So that means that your mother
is a knockout-and she is-and your father must be pretty good looking
himself. So think about it...she's pregnant, waddling around, weeping
at the mere *mention* of dead factory workers in Bangladesh, and he's
off doing whatever he does for a living...?"

"Dentist."

"...and meeting beautiful women every day. Don't you think maybe she
had the same kinds of thoughts you're having right now?"

Threw a pillow at him and he left, chuckling. Hate it when he's
right. But Mum probably handled pregnancies far better than I'm
handing this one. Probably breezed through it without a hiccup or a
hot flash, and I'll bet my name on her never suffering from swollen
ankles. Can't even imagine Mum *pregnant*. Almost seems absurd.
Earliest memories are of Mum looking very slim and perfect, like
Jackie O. I remember her always dressing up to go into town, even to
the market, always Collected and Together. So what if she forgot
things sometimes? I forget things all the time. Like fact that I
left my bloody purse in the car. Yell for Luka to run and fetch it,
tacking "please" at end of demand so I won't sound like Queen Bee
Bitch. He snickered and went out, returning a few minutes later with
my purse. Dug through it and found my collection of photos in my
wallet. Pictures of Johnny, Alice, with respective spouses and sets
of children. Photo of my cousin, Colonel Sir Griffith ap Daffyd
Morgan, Bart., KG, former MP from Tredegar-nationalist, poet, expert
on Welsh language. He memorised all of Dylan Thomas' poems and oddly
enough is strict Methodist and teetotaller. Photos of Derby winners
Generous and Benny the Dip (won fifty and ninety pounds on both,
resp.) and a photo of Mum and Dad standing on beach at Ilfracombe.
Dad v. handsome as always, wearing swimming trunks, Mum in two piece
bikini (forty-two at time), looking gorgeous.

Ugh. Can't even imagine two-piece bikini. Last time I wore one, it
was made of whipped cream and Luka was licking it off.

Mmmm...happy memories at last. Wish I was more seductive, instead of
looking like beached whale. Luka in living room, reading through a
journal. Mum in bed already. Switch telly on and watch a few minutes
of 'Late Show With David Letterman', hating sight of perfect slim
Julia Roberts and her giant teeth. Switch telly off and wish Luka
would come to bed. Feel so miserable. Babies kicking. Need to pee.

12:03AM Luka finally comes to bed. Love it that he never wears
anything more than his briefs to bed. Only wearing those because Mum
is here...otherwise, he doesn't wear anything at all. Mmmmm....

Would hate to have him wearing bloody Dick Van Dyke pjs. Am totally
surprised when he kisses me. "What was that for?"

"Because you're beautiful and I'm horny."

"Really?" Am even more startled.

"Yes, really. C'mere."

4:09AM Was startled four times and Luka only napping in preparation
for startling me a few more times. Feeling much better. Luka calls
it Practicing Geometric Strategies when we have sex. Kept telling me
how beautiful I am, how sweet and soft I am, how sexy I am and am so
utterly *smitten* with him. Mmm...watching him sleep. So gorgeous.
Love his hair and that lovely perfect profile. Of course, his mouth
is particularly nice. Shall wake him up.

4:45AM Aaah...

To be continued...