Jessica's Fate

Chapter 43

I was waiting at a booth when Raven arrived the following week. "Hi."

He eyed me for a moment and slid into the booth before grunting at my general direction with a scowl.

"I'm sorry. Do you want me to go into the kitchen and come back?" I gave him just as hard of a scowl as he was giving me. "Don't make me use your name." I threatened.

His scowl deepened.

"Evg..." was as far as I got before a large hand crossed the table to cover my mouth.

"Enough. Sorry. I'm a durak podonok."

I frowned. "What's that?"

He took his hand away. "Durak podonok.... An idiot jerk." He gave me a slight smile and shrug. "Today has been no good. You don't deserve my attitude, kohoetka... sweetie."

I brightened. "Kohoetka..." I tried. "Is that really like how we say sweetie or did you just call me dessert?"

He laughed. "Perhaps." He said before motioning to what was sitting on the table between us. "What is all this?"

"Well, I got the cookbook you suggested." I said, patting the Russian cookbook on the table next to me. "So, I couldn't help but be a little curious and I made a few things out of it so that you could help me translate the recipes into Russian but also so that I'd have a better idea of what they are supposed to be like."

He raised an eyebrow at me when I poured him a cup of tea and pushed the small dish holding orange marmalade towards him. "Orange?" He asked.

"And orange spice tea. I read about it..." I shrugged, my cheeks turning slightly pink. "That sometimes jam or jelly is used to sweeten the tea."

"Da. Is good." He seemed pleased as he sipped the tea first before adding a little marmalade to it. "What else did you make?"

"Well. I wasn't sure if this would be considered a fruit cup or not so I may or may not be offering it to you because you didn't actually tell me what you meant by that yet." I said. "It's a fruit compote. I realize slightly out of season because it is summer and usually you might eat it around Christmas."

He chuckled. "Not fruit cup." He reassured me. "Fruit compote is xopowo... fine." He said before spelling the word for me to write down. He pointed out each of the fruit and gave me their name so that I could write it down. He reached for a piece of the Easter sweet bread I'd made. "Ah, kulich. My favorite khleb." He explained the meaning of the word for bread and the one specifically for the sweet bread. "Also... hospitality is khlebosol'stvo..."

I blinked at him and tried to repeat it.

He finally gave up on me, repeated it more than once before spelling it for me. "Khlebosol'stvo uses the words bread and salt for a reason. You always offer guests bread and salt."

"Cool." I said, writing it down. We talked and ate our way through the things that I'd made and I rolled my eyes at him when he suggested things I should make for next week. "Borsch? You want me to work with beets?"

He grinned. "Da. Lots to do with beets." He rattled off a string of dishes that I could only widen my eyes at. He was my personal Bubba straight out of Forrest Gump only he was naming beet dishes instead of shrimp dishes.

"Okay. Okay." I laughed. "You win. Lots to do with beets next week. Maybe some rye bread too."

His eyes gleamed. "Cobepwehhbin." He said.

"Perfect." I recited back to him with a grin.

He clapped for me. "Da. Very good. Xopownn ypok."