The Many Problems of Luka Erebi | Sapphic Romance | Chapter 13
Luka is a savior
Luka remembered how the wind rushed by, tracing itself on her skin, on the back of Wren’s motorbike. How the frost nipped her nose as she inhaled. How the warmth emanating from Wren made Luka regret not sinking in deeper. These memories were fresh, and it made the still air at the apartment all the more unnerving.
The leering eyes of her neighbor. Her landlord was angry, shouting at Wren as if she was the one who started this. Luka stood by her door and watched. A lump stuck to her throat, refusing to go away no matter how many times she swallowed. She just didn’t know what to say. Wren wasn’t replying to Mr. Holt, her sight lingering toward Luka’s direction, though never looking directly.
They had no choice but to wait for the cops to arrive.
Luka didn’t expect to see the same cops from last week, but they were the one who responded to the call. They split Wren immediately from the group when they saw her fists and the man lying in a pool of his blood. Wren was taken downstairs where she was being questioned by a stern-looking cop. Mosca and her husband stayed upstairs with the younger policeman. Luka was taken to the stairs by another cop she hadn’t seen before.
He had a shaved head underneath his helmet, a clean-shaven face, and a rather sanitized smile. A tablet in his hand and a pen in the other, he introduced himself. “My name is Officer Dowsky. Please tell me your name, if you live here, and what happened here.”
“Um…” Luka stared at the rifle hanging in front of him. Then she swallowed hard, and said, “I was coming back to grab my stuff in 205 when I heard arguments coming from 206.”
As he wrote down the details, he asked, “Name?”
“Oh, sorry. It’s Luka Erebi.”
“Was this the first time you heard them argue?”
“T-the second time. I heard them Saturday.”
“And what did you do when you heard the arguments?”
“I thought someone was hurt, so I knocked on the door, and the man came out and s-started choking me. That’s when Wren protected me.”
“Wren…” He wrote down the name, then circled it with his finger and pressed on a pop-up button. “Wren Vespula. Hm.”
Luka was trying to not be so obvious in peeking at what seemed to be the police database on a tablet. She managed to see Wren’s image and a few red lines. It was a profile. The kind the police made for repeat offenders.
“What’s your relationship with your neighbors?”
“Oh! Uh.” She stood up straight, like she had just been caught snooping. “I only talk to Mosca, the woman who lives in 206, from time to time, but I’ve never talked to her husband before.”
“And with Wren Vespula?”
This had to be the third time someone asked Luka about her relationship with Wren. Though this time, she couldn’t afford be wishy-washy.
“S-she’s my friend.”
“Hm. Okay.” The cop wrote down something. Luka hoped it wasn’t a cheesy note about how Wren had a friend. “Would you be willing to give your full statement at the station tomorrow?”
“Y-yes.” Luka nodded, then glanced at Wren who held a frown and crossed arms. “Are you going to take in Wren?”
Before Officer Dowsky could answer, Luka could hear Wren shout, “Get your fuckin’ cuffs away from me! I already told you I’m willing to go.”
The ambulance had arrived, the responders coming to whisk Mosca’s husband away. Then Wren was taken into the cop car and driven off. Officer Dowsky said his goodbyes, and left.
Suddenly, it was just Mosca and Luka. Her mysterious neighbors had gotten back into their homes, including the landlord. Luka sighed, and walked over to Mosca.
“H-hey, Mosca. Sorry about all this. H-how are you feeling?”
Mosca’s braid was loosened, specks of hairs already straying from the braid’s grip. She gave Luka a gentle smile. “I’m fine now.”
“O-oh. Great. Um… are you hurt anywhere?”
She showed her forearm with a small cut. It was already covered up by a bandaid. “Just a cut from when he threw a plate at me. That reminds me, I still need to clean up.”
Luka raised a hand. “I-I can help, if you want.”
“Thank you. I’d appreciate it.”
So it seemed Luka wasn’t going to the police station after all. At least, not tonight. It was logical that they’d take Wren in since she was the one who committed the violence. The logic didn’t make it sit well for Luka.
For now, she focused on…
Oh. Wow. This is a mess.
Apparently, a hurricane had gone through Mosca’s apartment. Broken glass caught the light from the kitchen. Books and papers fanned across the floor. Three potted plants had tipped, dirt spilling in dark streaks. A framed photo had fallen from the wall, its glass cracked.
A lovely smell wafted by Luka’s nose.
Mosca made her way to the kitchen to her right, seemingly relieved that her food wasn’t burnt as she turned off the stove. Then she took out a broom and pan from the closet next to the kitchen.
Since Mosca was going to sweep, Luka took it to pick up everything that didn’t belong on the floor, starting with the potted plants. Luka had never been in Mosca’s place until now. She didn’t know what to expect, but she didn’t expect all these bookshelves. Who read these books? A glimpse at one of the titles suggested it was a romance.
Yeah, I’m gonna go and say it’s Mosca.
While she organized the books in alphabetical order, she heard Mosca ask, “After we clean, do you want to have dinner? I made too much to finish by myself.”
“Um… sure.” Luka would be lying if she said she wasn’t interested in what Mosca was cooking. Whatever it was, it smelled good.
Oh, shoot! I almost forgot.
Luka pulled out her phone and sent Bellamy a message about what happened.
Luluka: Wren got taken into the police station because she was protecting me from that man in 206.
Bell.A: Huh???
Luluka: Yeah… Sorry.
Bell.A: I’m not sure what you’re sorry about. Wren was just protecting you. Are you alright?
Luluka: Yeah. I’m just helping Mosca clean up her apartment, then I’ll head to Ari’s place.
Bell.A: You’re gonna stay at Ari’s?
Luluka: Yeah.
Bell.A: Okay :)
Bell.A: I’ll go to the police station and get Wren. I don’t want her to stay the night in a cell.
Now this is a confidence of a rich woman! She wrote it like it’s guaranteed she’ll get Wren out.
Her phone now back in her pocket, she resumed her reorganizing of the books. As she slid her feet sideways across the bookshelf, her foot hit a book she hadn’t seen until now. When she picked it up, she noticed it felt a little lighter than the other books despite its thickness. It was one of those hardcover with a removable cover, which wasn’t on. She turned to read the title on the spine. No title, but—
Thud!
Something was inside.
Luka remembered doing something like this before. She had gotten one of her father’s book and glued all the pages together. Then she cut out the middle to create a “hidden” storage. It got her a good whoopin’ from her father when he found out.
As curious as Luka was, she knew she shouldn’t pry in case it was really personal. So she placed it back on the shelf, along with this murky feeling in her gut.
Once everything was cleaned up, Mosca invited Luka to the dinner table. Luka should’ve felt more awkward about the fact that Mosca made this for her and her husband, but her rumbling stomach was ready to welcome the beef stew. Not only that, Mosca laid out a nice selection of side dishes too. Fresh artisan bread, pickled onions and cucumbers, and green bean salad.
If this was what Mosca’s husband got to eat everyday, Luka was very jealous. Whatever he was upset about, it definitely wasn’t this.
“Please, go ahead and eat,” Mosca said.
Luka nodded, and was about to dig in, when she felt her phone rumbling.
Ari is a Weaver: Are you coming or not?
Luluka: Sorry! A lot of things happened when I came back to my apartment and now I’m having dinner with my neighbor. I’ll be there as soon as I finish.
Luka shoved the phone back into her pocket, then realized she had to wash her hands again. There were so many germs on her phone, even when she cleaned it often. Before she turned on the kitchen sink, her phone vibrated again.
“Are you a bit of a germaphobe?” Mosca asked.
“Um. A little.”
She pulled out her phone again.
Ari is a Weaver: Oh, I see. You didn’t want to eat with me, huh? And I had a dinner date all planned out too.
Luluka: … No comment.
Finally back at her seat, Luka began with the breaking the bread and dipping it into the stew. It was savory with a right amount of saltiness. The potatoes and carrots were soft and sweet. Next up was the green bean salad. Luka picked up her utensils, noticing that they were chopsticks while Mosca had a fork.
“Does your husband use chopsticks?” Luka wondered.
“No. I actually bought those on a whim,” Mosca replied, before gasping. “Oh, sorry. I just assumed—”
“N-no. It’s fine. I can use it.”
Now that her stomach wasn’t starving as much and she could take her time to think, the murky feeling from before began bubbling. It might be because she noted the texture of the chopsticks being similar to the first lunch box she saw. It could’ve just been a coincidence.
The green bean salad was great. No complaints there.
When she scooped up more of the stew with less gusto and not breaking the vegetables in half, she finally noticed the shapes. Hearts. Kind of like when she saw the seaweed heart in the lunch box. Luka put down the spoon, not even daring to touch it with her lips.
“Is there something wrong, Luka?”
Luka looked at Mosca, who gave her a smile only an angel would give. Her stomach was rumbling, though not from hunger. Her thoughts were going in a direction she didn’t like.
I’ve never bounced back this quick whenever my father got angry at me. Maybe that’s just how she is. Everyone is different after all…
No matter how hard Luka tried to reason with herself, she couldn’t stop thinking about the bridge and how lifeless Mosca’s expression was back then. Was that someone who could rebound in an instant?
“No. Nothing’s wrong, but what about you? Are you really fine?”
“I’m fine now that you’re here.”
“Uh… I’m not sure I did anything. It’s Wren who you should be thanking.”
She shook her head. “It’s been you from the beginning.”
Luka’s brows flicked upwards. The beginning? She quickly set them back down. She couldn’t afford to get her heart pumping more than it already was. Calm, not panic.
She should finish her meal, and bid Mosca goodbye. Mashing up the potatoes and carrots so she wouldn’t see the shapes, Luka began taking big bites. She washed down the savory meals with some pickled veggies.
“T-thanks for the meal,” Luka said, putting down the chopsticks on the plate.
“I’m glad you liked it.”
Mosca, having finished too, began to clean up the plates. Normally, Luka would offer to wash the dishes. It was the right thing to do. However, the sink sat at the far end of the kitchen, tucked behind the column that formed the U. With Mosca back there and the water running, she’d have no view of the bookshelves and a harder time hearing Luka move.
She drew in slow, steady breaths, in an attempt to stop the shivering in her bones and especially her hands. It was easy to find the thick book with no title since she made sure to put it on the middle shelf. Hooking her finger on the edge of the spine, she pulled out the book. Her hands weren’t stable enough to hold it properly.
Inside was a phone. The battery was full. There was no lock. Her thumb hovered over the screen before she opened it. Besides all the default apps, there was only one custom app installed. A camera app.
Luka’s mouth dropped. The book dropped, hitting the wooden floor before bouncing against the bookshelf. As if she needed the book to make any more sound.
“Luka? Is something wrong?”
Luka heard the sink turn off and Mosca walking out of the kitchen. Then a gasp. Luka didn’t look in her direction. She didn’t know if Mosca also dropped her jaw, like when Luka saw what was on the phone.
Live footage of her balcony. A saved history beneath it, thumbnails lined up in rows with. Each one showed Luka on the balcony, calling her mom every Friday. She couldn’t count how many there were.
“W-what is this?” Luka’s voice shook. “Why do you have this.”
Mosca squeezed her apron with both hands. “You always went out to your balcony every week, and I was just curious about what you were doing. That’s all.”
“A-and you… d-decided to record me without me knowing? You… you’re the one who’s been leaving those lunch boxes.”
“You weren’t getting enough nutrients from those pre-made meals.”
“S-so you have been coming into my home!”
Luka couldn’t believe it. Last Monday wasn’t a fluke when she noticed her window was opened. Mosca was already in her apartment by then.
“Y-you need help!” Luka shouted, taking one step toward the front door.
Mosca took a step closer, her smile turned more revering than happy. “I did get help. You.”
“N-no! I mean professional help!”
When Luka saved Mosca after she jumped off the bridge, she hoped Mosca could somehow recover from all this. She spoke with Mosca to make sure she knew that she wasn’t alone, while implying about the benefit of therapy under the guise of her “newfound” knowledge from her psychology class. Luka thought Mosca was doing better, when she saw her last week.
Luka couldn’t be more wrong.
Mosca stepped closer, trying to close the distance. Luka braced herself, and rushed toward the door. It was locked and deadbolt, but she quickly unlocked both and ran out of Mosca’s apartment. She could hear her neighbor screaming her name.
She ran still.