Rain ruined their plan for a walk, and Luka merely moved his sneakers out of the way and asked whether Irena wanted tea. It almost offended her. She had spent the morning getting ready, changed her blouse twice, and arrived intending for them to go somewhere together. He was not angry at the weather, did not sigh, and did not think Sunday required rescuing with an elaborate new plan. He poured some water and took two mismatched mugs from the cupboard.
In her previous relationship, Irena had known the schedule of excitement well. An argument was followed by flowers, long conversations, and the feeling that they had chosen one another again despite everything. Quiet days meant waiting for the next explosion. She had been seeing Luka for four months. He remembered arrangements, called when he was running late, and did not demand proof that she cared. Sometimes this made her suspect that he did not really care very much about her either.
He sat beside her with a book while their tea cooled. Irena asked what he was reading, then interrupted his answer to comment on the rain. She did this several times, looking for a stronger reaction. Luka lowered the book. "I'd like to finish these two pages," he said, slightly impatiently. "Then we can talk." For a moment her heart quickened, as though something familiar had finally appeared. She waited for a continuation that never came.
While he read, she noticed he had adjusted a cushion behind her back and left enough room for her to stretch her legs. On a plate were the peaches she liked, already washed. He did not look absent. He looked like a man who was comfortable in a room where she was also sitting. When he closed the book, she asked whether she bored him. He looked surprised. "No. Do I bore you?" This time she could not answer quickly.
She said she sometimes missed feeling that something important was happening. Luka waited. She tried explaining the reconciliations, the relief, and her fear that an absence of drama meant an absence of desire. He did not tell her what sort of person she was or why she thought that way. He simply admitted he did not know how to compete with people after whom she first had to stop crying. Irena felt ashamed but stayed seated. She said she had not come looking for a competition. She was trying to learn what to do with an ordinary good Sunday.
Luka suggested starting with the peaches. She took one, cut it with the knife he brought, and offered him half. Juice dripped onto the blouse she had chosen so carefully. They both reached for the same napkin, then laughed. The rain continued. Irena rested her head against his shoulder and asked him to read the passage that had made him want to finish the chapter. She did not try to guess when the mood in the room would change.