Spring in Prague was always beautiful and Radek was well aware that it might be the last spring he saw for awhile. So, he walked to Marjeta's for their monthly dinner. It wasn't far, close enough that Radek should visit more often than once a month. But he was busy with work and Marjeta was busy with her work at her dance school and as a mother. Once, when they were children they had been the best of friends, but then life had happened for both of them. They had grown further and further apart until all that was left between them was this dinner. Once a month.
The perfume of spring was in the air with the promise of summer coming soon. Everywhere flowers were starting to bloom and the trees were painted in green. Radek didn't often take the time to really look at the beauty of the city he lived in. But tonight he slowed his steps and looked at the cobbled streets and the graceful buildings that lined the streets. He listened to the happy cries of the children and paused to say hello to those he passed.
And yet, as beautiful as it all was, he was going to leave it. He wasn't a brave man. Radek knew there were dangers where he was going, but it was the opportunity he had waited for all of his life. There was no way he could not go. For all that Prague boasted a history of over 1,000 years, the city he was hoping to travel to could be as much as 10,000 years old. He found his breath coming faster in excitement just thinking about it.
Unconsciously Radek's steps sped up the closer he got to his sister's house. This was the last thing he had to get through before he left for Colorado Springs. Ironically it was the hardest thing he had to get through. Despite the fact that he and his sister had grown apart over the years, he didn't know how to tell her that he was leaving and he didn't know when he would be back.
Too soon he was standing at Marjeta's door. His door really. When Marjeta's musician husband had left her alone and pregnant, Radek did his best to take care of her, providing her a home and paying most of her bills. It seemed a poor substitute for a husband and a loving home, but he did the best he could.
He stood on the stoop and practiced what he needed to say a couple of times. Then he tugged on his jacket and smoothed a hand over his hair. With a deep breath he knocked.
Inside the house, music was blasting; he could hear it through the door and tightly closed windows. He waited. And waited. Finally, he reached over and rang the doorbell. There was another pause, long enough that Radek almost rang the bell again. Just as he was reaching once more for the bell, the door opened and he was hit with a wall of sound.
His eight-year-old nephew stood in the door scowling up at him. He was a sweet-faced cherub with blue eyes and a riot of dark curls. Those who did not know him thought he was an angelic child. Radek knew better. He knew him for the demon spawn that he truly was.
He winced as Damek screeched at the top of his lungs (to be heard over the music, obviously), "Mama, Uncle Radek is here." Then he was gone, leaving Radek standing at the door.
It had always been so between them. Radek didn't like children, but he had tried to love his nephew if only for his sister's sake. But the child had always had a particular animosity for his uncle. As a baby Damek would always throw up on Radek whenever he dared to hold the child. Since then they circled one another warily, always in a poorly concealed truce where neither side declared all-out war for Marjeta's sake.
Marjeta appeared, wiping her hands on a towel. She looked surprised to find him still standing at the door.
"Radek," she tugged on his arm, drawing him into the house, "you are late." She scolded softly as he leaned down to kiss her cheek.
"I walked," he explained. He handed her the bottle of wine that was his customary contribution to dinner.
"You shouldn't waste your money on such frivolities," she told him in disapproving tones. Then she went to the kitchen to get the glasses and place them on the table.
"I want some wine," the demon spawn shrieked from his room.
"You are too young," Marjeta told him fondly. "Now turn your music down and join us at the table."
The music level went down perhaps by a decibel. Damek appeared from his room and took his take his place at the table, scraping the chair on the floor as he pulled it out.
They all folded their hands and bowed their heads. Damek, the demon spawn, recited the prayer quickly, one word blending into another. He already had food on his plate by the time Radek shook out his napkin and placed it in his lap.
"Slow down, Damek," Marjeta told her son, with no appreciable affect. She caught Radek's eye and shook her head with a fond smile. "What are you going to do?"
Radek assumed it was a rhetorical question needing no answer because he didn't think his sister would like his answer.
Dinner went as it always did.
At first there was just silence as they all ate, but eventually Marjeta would tell stories of her dance academy. Radek tried to listen, he really did. But he had trouble letting go of whatever he had been working on that day. Inevitably Marjeta would ask him a question that he didn't hear and she would know that he wasn't listening. She would turn her head away so he couldn't see the tears that trembled in her eyes.
Damek kicked him under the table, just as he always did. Radek had never complained before because he knew it was childish, he was the adult; his nephew the ten-year-old child. Normally he endured the bad behavior for his sister's sake, but tonight, tonight he'd had enough.
"Would you stop that," he snapped.
Damek actually looked surprised when Radek snapped at him and he scooted back in his chair as if afraid that Radek was going to hit him. Which was ridiculous.
"What?" Marjeta interrupted her newest interminable story about the children at her dance academy to blink between her brother and her son.
"I wasn't doing anything," the Demon Spawn protested.
"Radek?" Marjeta turned to him.
Radek wondered when she had become so… faded. Her face was worn and tired, it bore the lines of years and disappointment. He remembered the bright young girl who had wanted to be a ballerina. Of course that was before she was left alone and penniless with a child on the way. He'd done his best to take care of his sister over the years, but for all of his knowledge of math and science he'd never yet learned how to heal a broken heart.
"It is nothing," he said at last. It would do no good to complain of Damek's bad behavior, it never did.
"You have not been yourself all night," Marjeta observed, touching his hand tentatively.
He took a deep breath, he needed to tell her and this was as good as time as any, "I have to tell you something," he began.
Only to be interrupted by his nephew, "May I be excused? I have homework to do." It sounded like he was asking for permission from someone on the next block.
Radek winced and turned back to concentrate on his food.
"Of course," he heard his sister say, "and keep your music down," she called after her rapidly escaping son.
It was no use; the music was turned back up to its full volume only moments later.
Marjeta glanced over at Radek and shrugged apologetically.
In some ways it made it easier, they didn't have to talk. Marjeta wasn't really interested in his work and he didn't really want to hear about her students and the dance academy. She always looked so sad when she talked about it, as if she were reliving her own hopes and dreams through her students.
At last it was time to go and Marjeta brought him his coat. He could put off the moment no longer, so he turned to her and kissed her cheek.
"Marjeta," he said, "I am going away for my work. I do not know when I will be back."
Something, maybe relief, passed across her face and she nodded. "Call me when you get back," she said. "We will have dinner."
She wrapped her arms around him and hugged him, something she hadn't done for as long as he could remember. Then she released him and he stepped out the door, ready at last to face his future.
Just a little piece I wrote for a class I took. I hope you enjoyed it!
Disclaimer: They're not mine, but that's okay as long as I can take them out and play with them from time to time.