By the time she’d finished, Luka knew more about the menu than I did, which was impressive, considering I’d eaten there before.
“The ravioli would be my recommendation,” Mom said at last.
Luka considered this carefully. “Then I believe I will have the ravioli.”
Mom looked pleased with herself.
Dad sighed. “Congratulations. You’ve made her week.”
While we waited for the food, Dad asked about training schedules and competition preparation. Mom gave the conversation a respectable amount of time before steering it toward what she clearly considered a far more important subject.
“Are they feeding you properly?”
Luka appeared surprised. “I assure you, I am adequately nourished.”
Mom remained unconvinced. Dad hid a smile behind his water glass.
The food arrived before she could pursue the matter further.
By the end of the meal, Luka had abandoned any attempt to answer every question with diplomatic caution. He was still unfailinglypolite, but he no longer looked as though he expected a scorecard at the end of the evening.
“So, what movies did you grow up watching?” she asked between bites of tiramisu.
Luka thought about it.
Dad noticed the pause. “Jurassic Park.”
He frowned. “I have not seen it.”
Mom looked horrified.
I nearly dropped my spoon.
Dad lowered his own. “You’ve never seen Jurassic Park?”
“No.”
The three of us continued staring.
Luka looked from one of us to the next. “I did not realize this was such a sensitive subject.”
Dad pointed the spoon again. “Star Wars.”
The hesitation that followed was answer enough.
Mom pressed a hand to her chest. “Oh, honey.”
Luka appeared baffled. “What?”
“You’ve missed everything.”
“I havenotmissed everything,” he remonstrated.
“Most things.”
He blinked again. “I won an Olympic medal. Two medals, actually.”
“That’s wonderful,” Mom agreed. “We’re still making you watch Star Wars.”
