A porn actress!
That explained a lot ... tattoos ... drugs ... good lingerie.
"I'm sorry, you do look familiar but I can't say I'd recognise the title of any porn film I've ever watched. It's not like the days of 'Deep Throat' where the titles became famous or even some of the clever parody titles like 'Pulp Friction' ..."
I saw her looking at me with a slightly bemused look on her face. I trailed off and blushed.
"Sorry ... I was going on ... I don't watch that much porn ... I just know a lot of trivia."
She gave a knowing smirk that turned into a grimace and I could see her body tense as a cramp overtook her small frame. I reached out to hold her hand and immediately regretted it as her finger nails dug into it with surprising force.
She started to moan in pain. It was in Czech but I guess it was filled with expletives and I almost joined in with her from the pain in my hand. The painful grip flashed me back to a fly blown village in Helmand as I held the hand of a young marine as his life pooled in the dust beneath him and some of my own blood mingled with his.
"
Come on Bootneck... hang in there ... the casevac is on its way ... don't let your pain control you ... channel it ....... oh fuck ...... he's gone."
The slackening of Luka's grip brought me back into the room and I could see she was sobbing as the pain eased.
"You are right ... your pills don't work as well ... ohhhh ... another one."
Her grip tightened again and I could feel the paroxysms in her body coming in waves until after several minutes she seemed to pass out as her brain shut down against the pain. I went to get a damp cloth and wiped her sweaty face and she stirred.
"Water ... please."
I supported her head and held the glass again. This time she sipped slowly.
She looked up at me quizzically and asked in a hoarse whisper.
"Why did you call me Bootneck?"
I hadn't realised I'd said it out loud.
"Oh ... I wasn't really talking to you ... I was remembering another occasion ... someone in pain ... it was one of my Marines ... he died."
"You tried to help him ... like you are helping me ... you are a good man I think ... thank you for helping me."
I was embarrassed again.
"I do what I think is right ... what I would hope other people would do for me. I try to help others ..."
I tried to curb the emotion and got business-like.
"I've placed a bucket here if you need to drive the porcelain bus."
She screwed her face up in puzzlement. God, she had some adorable facial expressions!
"Drive the porcelain bus? What does this mean?"
I grinned.
"Sorry, English slang ... it means to be sick ... you know when you are kneeling in front of the toilet and you have your arms like this ..."
I adopted the position and she giggled.
"I will remember that one. You are helping me learn English as well. You are a very good man ... Greg ... Greg? ... I do not remember meeting a Greg before."
She spoke my name as though trying it out for size.
"It is not a common name now but it is a family name ...my father and grandfather ... I have never met a Luka before so it's a first for both of us. May I call you Luka ... it's nicer than Analise?"
She smiled wanly.
"Of course ... I like the way you say it. My mother liked a song by Suzanne Vega called 'Luka' but it is really a boy's name. It is a good thing I'm flat chested."
"I don't think anyone will confuse you with a boy."
She smiled and settled back into the bed and closed her eyes. I tucked the covers around her and stroked her hair as she fell into a fitful sleep.
The pattern of violent cramps repeated itself over the next few hours but after a while they passed and she fell into a deeper sleep and I took the opportunity to grab a shower and make myself some food.
Perhaps it was the smell of bacon frying that woke her suddenly and she started to retch over the side of the bed but very little came up and she missed the bucket anyway. I went to her and stoked her back and head as her body convulsed talking to her gently. Once the episode passed I got her to take some more pain killers and water. She gave a tired shake of the head to the suggestion of food and fell back into a fitful delirium.
The curtains had been closed for the two days since I moved in and I had lost track of time with my self-imposed exile from the world but realised it was now late evening as the noise from the street and the train station started to decline.
I grabbed a blanket and settled into the chair to sleep.
I woke every time she moved in her sleep but she seemed more settled and her face was relaxed allowing the pretty ... no ... beautiful girl to appear despite the bruises and the traumatic process she was going through. She woke and asked for water at about 02.00 and I offered her more pain killers but she thought about it and declined. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze to say 'well done' and she gave a pleased smile in return.
I went to sit back down on the chair.
"Greg ... sleep on the bed ... it will be better for you. There is plenty of room."
I looked over at her and saw a pleading look on her face. I nodded my thanks and went round to the other side of the bed and lay down on the top. She rolled towards and gave a shy smile.
"Hold me please."
I moved my arm to let her rest against my shoulder and she settled in with a sigh. I have to admit that she had a big body odour problem after all that gone on over the past few days and was tempted to suggest she have a shower if she was feeling up to it. Maybe she was reading my mind or maybe the close proximity of another body concentrated her olfactory senses as she started to sniff.
"I smell bad. I need a shower."
I laughed gently.
"Yes you wouldn't win a prize for the sweetest smell."
She giggled and dug me in the ribs.
"You are not meant to say that. Perhaps you are not such a nice man after all."
"Maybe not but I am honest."
She sighed and cuddled in closer and spoke softly.
"I don't meet many honest and nice men. I forgive you. Will you help me shower as I don't know if I can stand up too well?"
I lifted my head to look at her quizzically and she craned her neck so our gazes met.
"Are you sure? You trust me?"
She gave a guilty smile.
"Yes ... I'm sorry I was suspicious but you have been a gentleman. Anyway I'm in porn so lots of people see my body."
She giggled.
"Sorry I lied about not having sex for money ... it is different though ... kind of."
"I hadn't thought about it. Even if you were a whore it wouldn't change what I did ... or do in the future. Come on... let's get it done ... can you walk or do you want me to carry you?"
"It is probably best if you carry me."
I got off the bed and went round the other side to gently lift her. She certainly hadn't put on any weight since I last picked her up and I carried her effortlessly to the shower cubicle and she rested quietly against my chest.
I sat her down on the toilet and then moved her drying clothes from the shower. She noticed and started to get teary.
"Greg ... you washed my clothes ... you are a not a nice man ... you are a wonderful man."
"Shh... don't worry sweetheart ... there's not much point in wrapping a clean body in filthy clothes is there? Now ... what do want me to do? Just be here if you have a problem or help you shower?"
I could see the cogs working in her befuddled brain and she turned to me with her eyes wide with confusion.
"I don't know. What do you think? Will it work if I lean against the wall and you wash me? You will get wet too so maybe you take your clothes off. I'm sorry I shouldn't have asked you. I'll sit in the tray and you turn the water on and ..."