Tristan opened the door to the small town home. He could hear laughing when he and Mikayla stepped inside, and in the living room he saw his mother, the Medved siblings, Jade, and an older man.
“Oh! Tristan.” The man got to his feet and walked up to Tristan. The teenage boy took a step back, looking agitated. The Man frowned, but his eyes landed on Mikayla. “Is this Mikayla?”
“Yeperooni!” Mikayla threw a peace sign up with her fingers. “Who might you be?”
“You can call me Dalibor!” He introduced himself in his thick accent. “I’m Kveta’s father. I heard you and Kveta were in a class together?”
“Yes! Vocal pedagogy.” Mikayla answered.
“I still don’t know what that is.” Jade whimpered.
“Nice to meet you, Mikayla!” Dalibor put his hand out, and Mikayla shook it happily. “I’m going to make dinner tonight. A traditional Slovakian dish!” His eyes shined with the fervor of a man proud of his home country. “Would you and Jade like to join?”
“I-I’m sorry,” Jade stuttered, blushing red. “I’m going to be spending the night with my boyfriend.”
“Don’t worry about it! Maybe next time.” Dalibor replied, understanding. “How about you, Mikayla?”
“I’m free, so I’d love to join!” Mikayla beamed. Dalibor clapped his hands together in joy.
“Great! I know you’ll love what I’m making, Mikayla.” He smiled.
Eventually dinner time came. Jade had already left to spend time with her boyfriend. The rest of the group sat around the dinner table, waiting for Dalibor to finish cooking. Mikayla’s stomach rumbled with hunger; it had been a while since she had eaten.
Soon enough, Dalibor came out of the kitchen. “We’re having Kapustnica,” Dalibor stated, setting bowls of the Slovakian soup in front of each person. Mikayla sniffed the air, the salty aroma of the soup filling her senses.
“Mmm! Smells absolutely delicious!” Mikayla beamed, licking her lips. She grabbed her spoon, about ready to dig in, until she realized it was time for prayer. Kveta held out her hand, and Mikayla took it into her own. Mikayla then reached over to Tristan sitting beside her, and he reluctantly held her hand. Everyone closed their eyes.
“God our Father, Lord, and Savior…” Dalibor recited their prayer, and Mikayla sneakily opened one of her eyes to get a look at Tristan. Sadness surged up in her upon seeing his expression. Tristan was biting his quivering lip, his eyebrows furrowed. Mikayla could only imagine how conflicted he must’ve felt about his own spiritual beliefs.
“...Amen.”
Everyone let go of each other’s hands, and Mikayla immediately dipped her spoon in the soup. She stuck the spoon in her mouth, about ready to savor the flavor, but got a mouthful of scorching liquid instead.
“Mmmmphhh!” Mikayla wailed, covering her mouth. She desperately wanted to spit it out, but didn’t want to look rude. So, she forced herself to swallow the steaming liquid. She seized her water cup and chugged it, the ice cold water soothing her burnt throat.
“Are you alright?” Radim asked, giving her a curious look. Mikayla nodded, some of the water dribbling down her chin.
“Whew! That was hot!” Mikayla gasped.
“We should’ve warned you,” Dusanka giggled.
Mikayla shook her head, laughing despite the burning sensation in her mouth.
The soup eventually cooled enough to be safely consumed, and Mikayla took another sip. It was delicious.
The rest of the family ate the soup, conversing with each other. They asked Mikayla more about herself, and she did the same for them. It was a great dinner, and Mikayla ate until she was satisfied.
However, Tristan didn’t touch his food.
“Tristan, aren’t you gonna eat? It’s delicious!” Mikayla beamed. Tristan stared at his lap, not saying a word. He had been quiet the whole dinner so far; maybe Mikayla could get him to talk.
“So Tristan,” Mikayla started, a warm smile on her face. “What other things do you like to do besides play piano?”
“Nothing,” Tristan replied solemnly.
Mikayla furrowed her eyebrows, the smile still on her face. “Nothing at all?” She asked.
Mrs. Rehbein gazed at her son. “You like playing video games, don’t you?”
“I guess,” Tristan murmured.
“Which one’s your favorite?” Mikayla leaned toward him, her eyes wide with curiosity. “Have you ever played the Kantara games? They are so fun!”
“I don’t know,” Tristan muttered.
Mikayla frowned and tapped her chin. What else could she bring up to get him to talk? Her mind wandered to the food, and she licked the salt off her lips.
“What’s your favorite kind of food?” Mikayla queried. “I really love Mexican, but now Slovakian is up there on the list!” She smiled at Dalibor, then directed her attention back to Tristan.
The young boy tapped the table with his fingers, resting his cheek on his other hand. Mikayla couldn’t help but notice his lack of table manners, but maybe at this point, he didn’t care.
“I don’t know,” Tristan replied bitterly. He looked over at his mother. “May I be excused?”
“Tristan, you haven’t even touched your food,” Mrs. Rehbein scolded. Tristan hung his head.
“I’m not hungry,” he said. Mrs. Rehbein sighed heavily, a conflicted look crossing over her face.
Dalibor waved him off. “It’s alright, dear,” Dalibor said. “Let him go.”
“Alright.” Mrs. Rehbein didn’t seem to like Dalibor’s response.
Tristan got to his feet, tucked his chair in and left. Mikayla watched him leave, her heart hurting for him.
“I thought the food was good…” she murmured.
“He’s been like this ever since we met him,” Kveta frowned. Mrs. Rehbein put her hands in her lip, her lip quivering.
“He used to be so happy…” her voice trailed off. She shook her head, trying her hardest to suppress her tears.
No one knew what to say. They all knew the reason why, and they knew they couldn’t bring Tristan’s father back. Mikayla put her hand on her chin, thinking. This was going to be harder than she thought.
“Well, I still want to help,” Mikayla started up, getting to her feet. “So the dinner didn’t work. Maybe it was too formal.” She tightened her fists and ideas ran through her head. “Maybe something more casual and fun?”
“Like what?” Dusanka asked gently.
Mikayla’s racing thoughts stopped on a mental picture of a sports game. Teams working together to play, relying on each other and having fun. Mikayla gave a toothy grin.
“Sports!” Mikayla shouted, her voice reverberating throughout the room. Excitement coursed through her veins, and her heart sped up. “Yes, that’s perfect!”
“But Tristan…” Mrs. Rehbein started, raising her finger.
“We’ll play a sports game, and Tristan will be on a team with you guys!” Mikayla interrupted Mrs. Rehbein and gestured to the four siblings.
“Sounds like fun!” Kveta threw her arms in the air.
Dalibor exhaled deeply. “If you think it’s a good idea,” he said.
“It’s a great idea!” Mikayla replied confidently. “Alright, I better get home! I got to plan for this!” With that, Mikayla turned and took off out of the kitchen, giving a wave of her hand.
Radim glowered at her now empty chair. “She just… left her dishes…” he muttered bitterly.
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