All the Things You Are

Jelena peered at her reflection in the mirror and carefully applied some eyeshadow, using the tiny wand to shade the powder. Her hand was steady in spite of her nerves, finishing with the eyeshadow and putting away the compact.

I'm finally going to meet the old man, yay for me, she thought with a wry chuckle.

Jelena looked through her closet and changed into a simple navy blue dress with white lace on the front and matching stockings with modest black pumps. She brushed her hair and swept it back with a black shell comb, a few of her dark curls falling loose around her shoulders.

Here goes nothing, it's or never, she thought.

Jelena bowed her head and crossed herself before leaving her room and heading downstairs. "Uvolnit se, dceruska", said Jaromir reassuringly, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Dobry vada, but the old man sounds intimidating. And I can't wait for him to tell me why you gave me up", she said dryly.

"You knew?", asked Jaromir in disbelief.

"That's what Miroslav said when Deda thought I was going to look bad. I always figured that my dad was someone important", she retorted, trying to sound flip but instead with a catch in her voice.

Jaromir gave her a hug. "Be strong, dceruska. And I will make it up to you", he vowed.

Jelena gave her father a reassuring smile just as the doorbell rang. The both of them just looked at each other as Milan went to answer it. "Dobry den, Deda", he said.

"Dobry den, do ti, chlapre", said a deep male voice, speaking formally with an old-fashioned accent.

The voice belonged to an old man in his seventies who appeared more dignified as befitted the would-be descendant of nobles. He was over six feet tall and lean with a full head of wavy iron-gray hair cut short, prominent crow's feet around his steely blue eyes and wearing a severe black suit that made him look like an undertaker and just as forbidding.

"Dobry den, sinacek. At least your daughter has the Jagr look", he said.

"Otec, this is my daughter Jelena. Jelena, this is your grandfather Antonin Jagr", he said.

Antonin shook her hand and looked carefully at her, nodding in satisfaction. "While I don't approve of all this, she at least looks like a Jagr and is modest. You know how American girls are, Miroslav did a good job", he said.

Jelena had to fight the urge to throttle the old man as she forced herself to smimle. "Delat ty chtit nekolik caj, Deda?", she asked politely.

"Dobry devce, ty rici Ceska. Ja mit caj", he said.

Jelena went to the kitchen and set a kettle of water on the stove to boil, her hands shaking as she got four cups out and placed a tea bag in each. I hope the old man goes away, he's an asshole, she thought angrily.

The kettle whistle as a plume of smoke escaped from the spout. Jelena poured the steaming hot water into the cups and placed them on a tray along with a tiny sugar bowl, four spoons and a sliced lemon. She carried the tray to the parlor and set it down on the a table as the tea steeped, tiny swirls of steam rising from the little cups.

"Dobry devce", said Antonin approvingly.

"Jaromir, you realize what the press is going to say about that? And with an American girl no less", said Antonin.

Jaromir calmly took out the bag and set it aside before adding sugar and lemon to his tea, the tiny porcelain teacup looking like something from a dollhouse in his huge hands. "Otec, Jelena is my daughter and your grandchild, whether you like it or not. And people don't care about these things anymore, this is not like when you grew up. You will address my daughter with respect", he said coolly.

Antonin gave his son a look. "Imagine how that is going to look, Jaromir. The press is going to be over this like bears on a wounded deer, your heir being half-American and illegitimate. At least when you and Vera have a child they will be legitimate", he huffed.

Jelena was seeing red at this point, her fingers shaking as she set the cup down on the saucer with a clattering sound. "I don't know how the hell you were raised but us American don't believe that kind of shit", she hissed.

"Don't you know who I am, devce? Our family is a noble one, we got the title from the Hapsburgs themselves. Miroslav did raise you properly after all, you are acting like a typical whorish American girl", he sneered.

"Yeah, you're an old asshole. And I'm proud to be an American, we don't have this bullshit in the states. And if you don't shut the hell up, I am going to kick you out", she snarled.

Jaromir and Milan tried to keep their faces straight as Antonin sputtered angrily. "Jaromir, I want you to teach your daughter manners, she is acting like a whore", he ordered.

"Otec, I believe Jelena is right. This is my house and you will treat my daughter with respect, she is a Jagr", he said.

"Pokuta! But mark my words, the press is going to rake you over the coals with this. Na shledanou!", he bellowed, walking out of the house and slamming the door behind him.

Jelena let the cup and saucer fall to the floor and slumped to her knees, muffled sobs escaping her throat. "Dceruska, ja prominte", he murmured, pulling her up to her feet and holding her as she sobbed.

Jelena relaxed in her father's arms and sobbed quietly. "I hate him! He is horrible!", she cried.

"He is an old man set in his ways and does not know better, hopefully he will come around", he murmured.

"I don't want to see him again, I hate him", she whispered.