Rene walked into the kitchen to the sounds of vegetables being rapidly chopped on the cutting board. Misha was deep in concentration on his white chicken stew. He’d spent almost an hour shopping for the perfect ingredients the day before. Rene had almost left him at the store in annoyance. 

“It’s just a simple dinner. You’re not cooking for royalty,” Rene had pointed out. 

“No, I’m only cooking for the man who is going to write about you and our family in a national magazine. Leave him with a terrible dining experience, and the whole publication might just consider rescinded your entire award. Everything now rests on my stew and balsamic Green bean salad combo! You have no idea what kind of position this puts me in.” Misha had stopped the cart once more in the produce aisle at the grocery store. He was eyeing the organic strawberries now. 

“You put yourself in that position.” Rene pointed out. “I would have been perfectly happy with takeout.”

“That’s terrible. And you’re a terrible person for having said it.” Misha muttered. “Do you think chocolate dipped strawberries would make for a good dessert, or are they too sensual?’

Rene scoffed, and walked away to text Ari that they were going to be late picking up Emory and apologizing profusely. Half an hour later, they checked out with $150 in groceries for one dinner while Rene shook his head in disbelief. 

“What?” Misha looked at him with those puppy eyes. “I had to get the organic chicken. Too many chemicals in the other stuff. Do you want Emory growing up with three heads?” 

“Emory would happily live on gummies and ice-cream and turn out just fine, I’m sure.”

Misha huffed indignantly, but of course there was no real anger behind it. 

Now, Misha was putting on a show like he was presenting the main course at a 3-star Michelin restaurant. Emory popped into the kitchen to check on the progress of the meal. 

“Can I help?” Emory asked. 

Misha looked at her for a moment, and Rene could tell he wanted to ask her to leave the kitchen for now. But being the ever doting father that he was, Misha grabbed a wooden spoon and moved Emory’s step-stool over to the counter to show her how to gently stir the chili so it wasn’t bubbling over.

“Wash hands first.” Rene said. 

Misha’s eyes widened in surprise at having forgotten that little detail. Emory grumbled and shoved the stool over to the sink to wash her hands while Misha got back to cutting vegetables and dropping them in the stew. 

“Is your homework done?” Rene asked as Emory pushed her step-stool back over to the oven with her leg. 

“Of course it is. All I had to do was draw a picture and write a story about a fish. It’s already in my backpack if you want to read it.”

Emory was now concentrating on her oh so very important job of stirring the stew at regular intervals, with Misha occasionally adding new ingredients and giving direction. Misha glanced over at Rene. 

“Shouldn’t you be getting dressed?” Misha asked. 

Rene looked down at his button-up work shirt and grey slacks. 

“Are-are these not clothes?” He asked. 

Misha shook his head, “Teal dress-shirt and black slacks. They should be hanging up. I ironed them this morning.”

“You did what now?” Rene was astonished. Especially as Misha had somehow managed to do that, and get out of the house in a reasonable time without forgetting his lunch today. 

“In the closet. Go get dressed. And Emory’s dress should be hanging up in there too next to my outfit. She should be able to get ready in about ten minutes or so.”

Misha was on top of it right now. His hyper-focus was unreal. As Rene started to walk away to get ready, he remembered what he was going to ask Emory. 

“Hey Em, is Ari absolutely sure she’s not going to eat with us tonight?” Rene asked. 

“Yeah. She said someone canceled at yoga and she’s on call. She’s super sorry to miss it though.”

“Curses, Ari! Who’s going to tell me if I’m poisoning our guest?” Misha shook his fists dramatically at the ceiling. “Rene doesn’t have the exquisite palate I need for this endeavor.”

“Wow, thanks.” Rene scoffed. 

“It’s not your fault, Renny. It’s those heinous foster families of yours, and their evil peanut butter and jelly food-like meals.”

“That hurts,” Rene said, and gestured to his chest as he tried not to break into a smile, “right here.”

“Ooh, Precious,” Misha looked at him with his lips stuck out in a pout. “Don’t pretend you have a heart. Now go get dressed! Quick, before our guest arrives.”

“In,” Rene checked his watch, “35 minutes.”

“Go go go!” Misha waved him away, and Emory turned to do the same thing on a much tinier scale, which caused Rene to burst out laughing as he headed down the hall to the bedroom. He found his outfit hanging, just as Misha had said it would be. Rene put it on and went into the bathroom to brush his teeth and comb his hair. 

He spent a moment looking in the mirror at himself. He had fine lines around his eyes. Lines he blamed on Misha for making him laugh all the time. His seafoam green eyes stared back at him, and he realized just how anxious they appeared. As he finished fighting with the cowlick that stuck out on top of his light-brown hair and finally gave up, he began to realize what tonight really was, and his stomach began to churn.

This whole week was something else entirely. He couldn’t have fathomed having an award ceremony in his honor. Nor could he imagine someone coming all the way across the country to interview him, of all people. He was nobody. He was nothing. He was just Rene, the happy gay librarian with the adorable half-Korean daughter. But tonight, he was a fancy man dressed up for a fancy dinner and interview. It didn’t really feel real. 

There was a certain excitement in knowing Khal would be there soon. In a strange way, it felt like visiting with a distant family member. He kept thinking back to Khal’s kind face, and those intense eyes. It occurred to him that if he wasn’t careful, Misha might end up getting jealous. Of course, there was nothing for Misha to ever be worried about in that department. 

It took him a moment to realize that Emory had come into the bathroom and was staring at him. 

“You look wonderful, daddy.” She said. 

“Thanks, Em. Is your dad all finished with dinner?” Rene asked. 

“Almost. He said I had to come get ready. Can you help me with my dress?”

“Of course!” 

They walked into the bedroom and pulled Emory’s beautiful teal dress down off the hanger. Rene helped her dress, then brushed her hair and put it up into a simple high ponytail. 

“How do I look?” She asked, spinning around. Her dress flared out around her. 

“Stunning, my darling.” Rene said. 

She grinned, then turned and rushed back toward the kitchen. Rene followed, now curious to see how it was going with Misha. 

The meal was all set and ready to go. Misha was setting up the table with the fine China he’d gotten as a gift from his mother before she’d passed away. Rene was always nervous about using those plates, as they were so very special to Misha. 

“How does it look?” Misha asked, gesturing to the table with its blood-red tablecloth, delicate bowls and plates, and sparkling crystal glasses. 

“Incredible.” Rene said, genuinely in awe. 

“Now all we need is the guest of honor,” Misha said. 

“I think you will have to get ready.” Rene pointed out. 

“Oh shit! Shoot!’ Misha took off his apron and threw it in the kitchen pantry before running down the hallway to the bedroom as Emory giggled. 

“Dad! You said a bad word!” Emory shouted.

“I corrected myself!” Misha called down the hallway. 

“You still said it!” Emory yelled. 

“Hush you!” Misha closed the door as he got ready. A few moments later, he came back down the hallway looking very nice indeed. 

“Well, hello handsome.” Rene said. 

“Hey, you’re not the only one who has to make an impression tonight. And that’s not me being a narcissist!” Misha said. “Well, maybe a little. But we’re here to represent you, and we’re gonna do it in style!”

Rene kissed Misha on the cheek before letting him go to fuss over the table and the layout of the dishes. He then returned to his stew and salad and assured himself they were properly ready. Rene helped him by carrying the salad to the table as Misha carried the pot of stew as though his life depended on it. 

Almost as soon as the stew was set down on the table, there was a knock at the door. Rene’s heart lurched, and it was clear that Misha could see how nervous he was as his husband placed a hand on his shoulder and muttered “deep breaths.”

“Daddy, can I get the door?” Emory asked. 

“You can go with me to get it.” Rene said. 

“Go go go! Don’t leave our guest waiting!” Misha gently nudged them toward the door. 

Rene could feel himself sweating as he took Emory’s hand and walked over to open the door. There stood Khal in a dark turtleneck and dark slacks under his bright turquoise coat. He grinned when he saw Rene, then his grin grew even wider as he looked down at Emory. 

“Hello there.” Khal said to Emory. “You must be Rene’s daughter.”

Emory nodded and started chewing on her fingernail. Rene looked at her in surprise. It wasn’t like her to be this shy. Usually she was outgoing to everyone, even complete strangers. 

“This is Emory.” Rene introduced her. “Emory, this is Khalid Anwar.”

“Hello.” Emory muttered. 

“Please, call me Khal.” 

Rene stepped back to usher Khal into the house. He looked around curiously and he walked in, then glanced down at their feet. 

“Should I take off my shoes?” Khal asked. 

“It’s more sanitary.” Emory stated, causing Rene to snicker nervously. 

Khal kicked off his shoes by the door where all the other shoes were. He then held out a fancy bag to Rene.

“I got wine. And a sparkling cider for the little one. I wasn’t sure what else to bring for dinner, which smells amazing by the way.”

“Oh, you didn’t have to do that. Thank you so much.” Rene took the bag and pulled out the wine, which looked incredibly fancy. He and Misha weren’t much for drinking, but didn’t mind pouring a glass on a special location. “The delicious dinner is courtesy of my husband by the way. Misha, come meet Khal.”

Misha buzzed into the room and immediately held out a hand to greet Khal, “Hello, I’m Misha, husband, father, and cook. Welcome to our humble abode. May I take your coat?”

“Oh, yes thank you.” Khal slipped out of his coat and handed it to Misha, who went and hung it up. 

“Khal brought wine.” Rene pointed out, “And a little something for Emory.”

Misha came back, took the wine bag, and smiled. 

“That’s so kind of you. Thank you, Khal. Can I call you Khal?” Misha asked. 

“By all means.” Khal smiled

“Please follow me to the dining room, where you’ll find that dinner is served.” Misha directed them all toward the table. Emory hurried over and climbed into her seat. Rene gestured to the one across from Emory for Khal, who sat down with a muttered thanks. 

“I uh, I made white chicken stew and green bean salad. I hope you enjoy.” Misha suddenly looked very anxious, and Rene could see that he was shaking a bit. 

“It looks delicious.” Khal said, glancing at Misha. “Thank you for putting in the effort.”

“Dad used his best China.” Emory blurted. 

“You didn’t have to go all out for me.” Khal insisted. He looked at Misha, then Rene, his eyes wide. “It’s just a little interview. A casual gathering.”

“Yeah, I may have overdone it.” Misha admitted. Rene could see he was full on trembling now as he began to dish everyone up. 

“No no, this is wonderful. I really appreciate it.” Khal looked straight at Misha, who happened to glance back at him after pouring another ladleful of stew in his bowl. Misha visibly relaxed and began to smile. 

That sudden familiarity came over Rene again and he caught himself staring at Khal, trying to place where they’d met before. Khal happened to look back and catch him staring, and Rene blushed and looked away toward Emory, who also appeared enraptured by Khal as she was looking at him with her mouth slightly agape, as though in a daze. 

“Alright folks, dig i- wait! I forgot the wine!” Misha went into the kitchen and came back with the wine and sparkling cider bottles now open. He poured the appropriate liquid in each glass, then set the bottles down. 

“A toast!” Misha said, holding up his glass. “To new friends.” 

They all picked up their glasses and clinked them together. Emory took an absent-minded sip as she continued to stare at Khal. Rene nudged her under the table and shook his head when she looked at him. She turned her gaze down to her food and began to eat. 

“Bon appetit.” Misha said. 

They set about eating, and Rene’s mind went temporarily blank as he relished in the delicious meal his husband had cooked. It no longer felt like a formal interview, but rather a happy family meal with an additional guest. That is until…

“Why are your eyes so strange?” Emory asked. She was once again staring at Khal.

“Emory!” Rene snapped. “That’s inappropriate!”

Emory frowned at Rene, who gave her a warning look.

“It’s okay.” Khal said. “I’ve always loved the honesty of children. So blunt. So unfiltered.”

“It’s still not appropriate, and she knows that. Emory, apologize please.” Rene insisted. 

“I’m sorry I said that about your eyes. I saw something in them though. A weird light. What was that?” Emory asked. 

“You saw a reflection of the chandelier.” Rene said. “Now eat your food, please.”

Khal smiled and looked down at his bowl. Rene was red with embarrassment. He glanced across the table at Misha who merely looked lost in thought as he held his spoon halfway to his mouth. 

“Tell me, Emory. What is your dad like?” Khal asked, looking at her directly now. “What kind of person is he?”

“I think you mean my daddy.” Emory said. Then she gestured at Misha, “He’s my dad.” 

Misha smiled at her, then resumed eating. 

“Of course.” Khal said softly. “What is your daddy like? If you had to use just a couple words to describe him.”

Emory thought for a moment, “He’s kind. And worried a lot. He always feels like something bad is going to happen. But he’s happy. Dad and I make him happy. Plus he’s a hero. He saved those people.”

“Yes, I heard about that.” Khal nodded, before taking a large bite of his stew. He closed his eyes as he ate with a look of pure bliss on his face. “Ohh, this is delicious. My compliments to the chef.” 

Rene looked at Misha, who was grinning. It seemed the dinner was going fairly well. 

Chapter 5 https://storiesfrommontana.com/2023/02/05/2023-writing-challenge-pt-5-untitled/