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melissabik

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“Udavit ču te…” I muttered as I looked through the Croatian translator I had purchased.  I made it a point to remember what the taxi driver had said because I wanted to know what it meant.  “What a jerk!  Udavit ču te means, ‘I am going to strangle you’!” I spat in anger.  Sam struggled to hide a laugh that was threatening to come out.  He saw my expression and thought it was better to keep his mouth shut.  After going to Bogdana and getting some toilet paper, we were all set for bed.  The thing is… neither of us wanted to sleep in that filthy motel.  But we didn’t have too much money for a better place, so this would have to do.  “What exactly do we do now?” Sam asked, feeling completely lost.  I had no answer.  I began to have doubts about picking such a destination.  First of all, we could have picked a place where people at least speak English…

“I guess we should learn the language and get some form of a job; we’re going to need money,” Sam suggested as he sat down slowly and gingerly on the edge of the bed; it creaked with the weight of his body.  I nodded in agreement as I found a notepad in the drawer of the nightstand.  “Let’s make a list,” I suggested as I found a pen to write with.  “Do you think Bogdana would mind if we fixed this place up? It seems like she hasn’t found someone to clean these rooms for years,” he stated as he looked around the room with disgust.  “It’s a good place to start,” I commented.  We sat there in silence for a few minutes.  I still couldn’t believe I was going through all of this again.  The recent events that had gone on were suddenly catching up with my mind.  I was supposed to get married soon…  I had made a new friend…  And here I was running away from it all because my fiancé was in danger…

We had talked to Bogdana about a cleaning service, and she reluctantly agreed to give us the jobs.  Each room had its own unique personality, and each room had its own smell.  I nearly vomited each time we opened a new door.  When the work was done, we had a few hours to ourselves and then we would go to bed.   The next day we would do it all over again.  Once we had enough money to go to the market to buy food, I rushed on a train, or what they call a tramvaj, and found one of their markets.  Croatian markets are so different from American ones.  They have this different aura about them, and they are far more hectic than our markets.  After struggling to buy bread, cheese, water, and some meat from a vendor with my Croatian-English dictionary, I had almost no money left.

I returned to the hotel to find Sam lying on the bed, exhausted.  When he found our food, we both felt as though we were living in poverty… technically, we were…  I knew that one day things were bound to get better; but I wished that I could just fast forward and get to that point…  But I couldn’t do that.  We suffered day in and day out, working like dogs.  Who would have ever pictured me working so hard considering where I had started?  By the end of three months, we were making steady pay; we had enough money to buy an apartment.  Plus, Sam was offered a job at the mechanic shop nearby the hotel, so we would have extra income coming in.  It felt odd to be paying rent in a little apartment with your fiancé; we were supposed to get married first.  But there was no time for that now.  All we did everyday was work off the sweat of our brow.

At night, we were too tired to have a conversation with each other.  As soon as our heads hit the pillows, we were out like lights.  But it was all so we could be as far away from Gabe as possible.  I had even begun to learn the Croatian language.  By month six, I could form sentences and pretty much understand what people were telling me.  Sam was learning even faster because he was surrounded by so many Croatian men all day at the garage.  (But he mostly learned the swear words…)  One day, I was just feeling all of the pressure from the work.  I was feeling sick, and I was just tired of it all.  I came home from working at the hotel and just slumped over onto our little beat up kitchen table.  I couldn’t take it anymore.  Everything was taking its toll.  I hadn’t talked to Sarah in so long, and I just felt so alone…  I began to sob onto the table as my weakness grew more and more.

I heard the door open behind me as Sam entered the room hours later.  I had fallen asleep in my pool of tears.  I turned to him with a dead look on my face; I felt funny.  That’s when I realized that the tears on the table were no longer tears, but sweat.  I was sweating profusely, and I felt like I was burning a furnace inside of me.  As soon as Sam saw me, he was worried.  “Are you okay?” he asked as he rushed over to me and put his hands all over my face.  His hands felt rough and ice cold.  “I’m fine,” I muttered weakly.  I almost couldn’t get the words out.  I could see the worry fill Sam’s face.  “You’re burning up, Kat.  You’re not fine.  What’s wrong?” he asked again, searching the room for the telephone.  I shook my head.  I honestly didn’t know what was wrong with me.  I just felt tired…  I stood up to go and lay down on the bed; I figured sleep might help.  But I never made it; I fainted and fell to the floor in a heap. 

I awoke drowsily in a very bright and white room with people hovering over me.  “Where am I?” I asked as I stared into the faces of strangers.  “Ustala je,” a little nurse informed someone off in the distance.  I was in some hospital…  “Sam, where’s Sam?” I muttered, feeling a sudden wave of fear over me.  The woman nearest to me didn’t understand English.  “Gde je Sam?” I asked in broken Croatian, hoping she would understand me.  She did, and quickly searched for him.  Minutes later, I found his face and felt a rush of relief.  I let out a sigh as he came to my side.  “The doctor said that you have an infection; you’ve been given a couple of injections; hopefully it will help you get better,” he informed me as he grabbed my hand.  Another nurse came to my side to monitor me.  “American?” she asked as she looked down at me.  I nodded.  “What are you doing in Croatia?” she asked with almost no sign of an accent.  “It’s a long story,” Sam exclaimed.

The woman nodded.  She looked at my chart and checked my vital signs to make sure that I was going to be okay.  “I lived in America for some time… I moved there when I was seven, and lived there until I was fifteen…” the woman stated, making a little conversation.  “Nevena,” another nurse called.  The woman checking my chart turned around.  “Šta je?” she asked, which meant, “What is it?”  I smiled at the memory of my school friend.  “You know, I had a friend named Nevena in middle school,” I exclaimed as I thought about her blonde hair that was always in pigtails.  Many of the boys tended to have crushes on her because she was always so sweet.  Nevena smiled.  “Where do you live in America?” she asked as she fixed one of my tubes.  “I lived in a small town called Ruckshire…  It’s really in the middle of nowhere,” I exclaimed.

Nevena laughed at my comment.  “I lived there for a time too… In fact, I had a friend who said the very same thing to me when I lived there,” she stated.  What a coincidence, I thought.  “Kat, I need to get you checked out of here as soon as possible,” Sam muttered into my ear.  Nevena stopped.  “Kat?  As in Katarina?  My friend’s name was Katarina,” she mused as she took a good hard look at me.  We stared at each other for a time as I tried to picture this tall, blonde woman with skinny build as the little Nevena in pigtails.  “Nevena?” I gasped as I suddenly realized this was the very same girl…  How life is funny sometimes…