(no subject)
So I have writer's block in regards to most of the things I'm working on, but I've been going through Peter Sís' latest rather closely the past few days and this is an avenue I've always really wanted to explore.
There's a lot of bitter irony in the events surrounding the deaths of Mirek's parents. It happened at a time when many other people were being beaten and tortured and killed for the beliefs that Ema and Tomáš tried valiantly to hide, and the result was Mirek being sent away to America against his will at a time when people were literally dying to get out. The reason his life is so normal once he gets to New York is mostly because I had to make up for all of the heaps of tragic irony I started his story with.
That being said, as per Advent Ficlet 24, Mirek and Gideon are supposed to be on a trip to Prague right around now and while I'm clearly no where near that in my slow-as-a-glacier writing of current and past events, but I can't shake the images, so here's a little bit.
***
Lenka and Jakub were a nice enough couple, when Gideon could understand what was going on. They were gracious, at least, hugging both Mirek and himself even though they had no idea who he was. Mirek had assured him that they were very forward thinking and had met one of his past boyfriends on a trip to New York, but he was still nervous when he heard Mirek introduce him as a lover, his palms sweating even as Lenka and Jakub both smiled and nodded eagerly at him. Mirek said something that might have meant his Czech was attrotcious, and then Jakub laughed and said, "Ahoj, Gideon. Lenka... ah, does not have good English. Mine is... better, but not... um... great."
Gideon smiled in relief and shook his hand. "I'm sure it's better than my Czech," he said.
With Jakub's stilted English and Mirek to act as a translator, they all managed to get inside and around the table. Lenka disappeared and reappeared with coffee, and Gideon's delight upon first sip managed to transcend the language barrier.
He took a conversational backseat, ostensibly so that he could drink his coffee, but mostly because it was clear Mirek had some catching up to do and stopping to translate everything was going to lengthen the conversation significantly. He didn't much mind sitting back and watching Mirek talk, hands moving as quick as his tongue. He caught words he knew and names he recognized, but little else, although he had a feeling that even Valentine, with her extensive knowledge of rudimentary Czech slang, would have had trouble following.
He sat up a little straighter when Mirek stuttered to a stop, a blush creeping up his neck. Lenka and Jakub had stopped as well, faces both stunned and happy. Mirek fumbled to his feet and pulled out his wallet, and Gideon knew exactly what turn the conversation had taken. He took out his own wallet, his hands shaking much less than Mirek's, and pulled out a picture of Aaron, sliding it across the table to where Lenka and Jakub were sitting in awe.
"Thank you, milovany," Mirek managed to say. He squeezed Gideon's fingers tightly before letting go and continuing on in Czech, voice hushed and sincere. Gideon watched, again, as Mirek pulled out two more pictures and handed them across the table. He let the words wash over him and concentrated on Mirek's face, on the obvious joy and affection and reverence there. He had to swallow to get his heart out of his throat and even that did nothing to stop the ache deep in his chest.
Lenka said something to Jakub and then jumped up from the table and rushed away.
"We have some photographs," Jakub said, slowly and carefully. "We thought you...might want them."
Lenka returned with a dark blue leather photo album and paged through it quickly before turning it around and pushing it towards Gideon. She pointed at the smaller of two boys in a picture.
"Mirek," she said, smile incandescent. Mirek groaned in the chair next to him and covered his eyes, but Gideon ignored the protest and leaned closer. Mirek couldn't have been more than four years old. He was small and nearly buried in an oversized sweater, and his smile was exactly the same.
"Look at you," he murmured, reaching an arm around Mirek's back and cupping the back of his head tenderly. "You were a little peanut."
"Shush," Mirek said, barely opening his eyes. "That was Jan's sweater. A hand-me-down. I do not know why I insisted on wearing it."
Gideon looked over the rest of the page, past a younger Jakub and Lenka and people who must have been Mirek's parents and Jakub and Lenka's children. He focused in on the photos of Mirek, tiny and happy in nearly all of the photos. Gideon barely restrained the urge to wrap his arms around Mirek and hold him close.
"Oh, Mirek," he said quietly, fingers carding through his hair. "I don't even know what to say." Mirek uncovered his eyes and looked at him plaintively before sighing and leaning over the album.
"Those are my parents," he said softly. Gideon recognized them slightly from the photos that Marenka had. "And that's Jan, my brother."
"Other children are Josef, Irena and Oskar," Jakub said. "Our children. Irena and Mirda were same age. Oskar and Jan were same age too. Josef is oldest."
Mirek's fingers smoothed over a photo of all five children together. Mirek's clothes fit him in the picture and he had one of time tiny hands pressed into his mouth. Josef was holding him on his lap. It was maybe one of the cutest things Gideon had ever seen.
"You were absolutely precious," he said, leaning over to kiss Mirek's temple. "You still are."
"Shush," Mirek mumbled, but he hooked an arm around Gideon's waist anyway, leaning against him as he turned the page of the photo album.
There's a lot of bitter irony in the events surrounding the deaths of Mirek's parents. It happened at a time when many other people were being beaten and tortured and killed for the beliefs that Ema and Tomáš tried valiantly to hide, and the result was Mirek being sent away to America against his will at a time when people were literally dying to get out. The reason his life is so normal once he gets to New York is mostly because I had to make up for all of the heaps of tragic irony I started his story with.
That being said, as per Advent Ficlet 24, Mirek and Gideon are supposed to be on a trip to Prague right around now and while I'm clearly no where near that in my slow-as-a-glacier writing of current and past events, but I can't shake the images, so here's a little bit.
***
Lenka and Jakub were a nice enough couple, when Gideon could understand what was going on. They were gracious, at least, hugging both Mirek and himself even though they had no idea who he was. Mirek had assured him that they were very forward thinking and had met one of his past boyfriends on a trip to New York, but he was still nervous when he heard Mirek introduce him as a lover, his palms sweating even as Lenka and Jakub both smiled and nodded eagerly at him. Mirek said something that might have meant his Czech was attrotcious, and then Jakub laughed and said, "Ahoj, Gideon. Lenka... ah, does not have good English. Mine is... better, but not... um... great."
Gideon smiled in relief and shook his hand. "I'm sure it's better than my Czech," he said.
With Jakub's stilted English and Mirek to act as a translator, they all managed to get inside and around the table. Lenka disappeared and reappeared with coffee, and Gideon's delight upon first sip managed to transcend the language barrier.
He took a conversational backseat, ostensibly so that he could drink his coffee, but mostly because it was clear Mirek had some catching up to do and stopping to translate everything was going to lengthen the conversation significantly. He didn't much mind sitting back and watching Mirek talk, hands moving as quick as his tongue. He caught words he knew and names he recognized, but little else, although he had a feeling that even Valentine, with her extensive knowledge of rudimentary Czech slang, would have had trouble following.
He sat up a little straighter when Mirek stuttered to a stop, a blush creeping up his neck. Lenka and Jakub had stopped as well, faces both stunned and happy. Mirek fumbled to his feet and pulled out his wallet, and Gideon knew exactly what turn the conversation had taken. He took out his own wallet, his hands shaking much less than Mirek's, and pulled out a picture of Aaron, sliding it across the table to where Lenka and Jakub were sitting in awe.
"Thank you, milovany," Mirek managed to say. He squeezed Gideon's fingers tightly before letting go and continuing on in Czech, voice hushed and sincere. Gideon watched, again, as Mirek pulled out two more pictures and handed them across the table. He let the words wash over him and concentrated on Mirek's face, on the obvious joy and affection and reverence there. He had to swallow to get his heart out of his throat and even that did nothing to stop the ache deep in his chest.
Lenka said something to Jakub and then jumped up from the table and rushed away.
"We have some photographs," Jakub said, slowly and carefully. "We thought you...might want them."
Lenka returned with a dark blue leather photo album and paged through it quickly before turning it around and pushing it towards Gideon. She pointed at the smaller of two boys in a picture.
"Mirek," she said, smile incandescent. Mirek groaned in the chair next to him and covered his eyes, but Gideon ignored the protest and leaned closer. Mirek couldn't have been more than four years old. He was small and nearly buried in an oversized sweater, and his smile was exactly the same.
"Look at you," he murmured, reaching an arm around Mirek's back and cupping the back of his head tenderly. "You were a little peanut."
"Shush," Mirek said, barely opening his eyes. "That was Jan's sweater. A hand-me-down. I do not know why I insisted on wearing it."
Gideon looked over the rest of the page, past a younger Jakub and Lenka and people who must have been Mirek's parents and Jakub and Lenka's children. He focused in on the photos of Mirek, tiny and happy in nearly all of the photos. Gideon barely restrained the urge to wrap his arms around Mirek and hold him close.
"Oh, Mirek," he said quietly, fingers carding through his hair. "I don't even know what to say." Mirek uncovered his eyes and looked at him plaintively before sighing and leaning over the album.
"Those are my parents," he said softly. Gideon recognized them slightly from the photos that Marenka had. "And that's Jan, my brother."
"Other children are Josef, Irena and Oskar," Jakub said. "Our children. Irena and Mirda were same age. Oskar and Jan were same age too. Josef is oldest."
Mirek's fingers smoothed over a photo of all five children together. Mirek's clothes fit him in the picture and he had one of time tiny hands pressed into his mouth. Josef was holding him on his lap. It was maybe one of the cutest things Gideon had ever seen.
"You were absolutely precious," he said, leaning over to kiss Mirek's temple. "You still are."
"Shush," Mirek mumbled, but he hooked an arm around Gideon's waist anyway, leaning against him as he turned the page of the photo album.