Lira was sitting at a long table with Mitsi and Atlas when Owen entered the kitchen. He seemed to be lost in thought as he bumped into more than one chair on his way over.
"Been inhaling too many paint fumes?" she asked when he was within earshot.
She was in unusually good spirits after helping herself to three plates of the feast Mitsi had prepared for them of no particular theme except everyone's favorite foods: freshly steamed vegetable dumplings, a seafood paella, and her favorite chocolate cheesecake. Lira had told Mitsi she wished her own mother cooked as well as he did. Mitsi had nodded and dropped his gaze, but Lira could tell he was pleased.
Owen sat down heavily and didn't touch anything, staring at the table.
"What's eating you?" asked Lira. They hadn't spoken much since the Fury incident, but Lira wasn't about to bring up that debate again. It was over and done with, and Owen didn't seem any worse for wear after leaving Bebinn's office. Lucky.
Owen shook his head slowly, like he was trying to wake up from a deep sleep. Genzel must have been working him hard.
"Nothing," he said. "Sorry, what's all this?" He seemed to be seeing the various plates of food for the first time and his eyes widened in hunger.
Lira pushed a plate towards him. "Mitsi and Atlas thought we could use a pick-me-up after, well, you know..." she trailed off awkwardly. She wanted to avoid any topics that would bring up memories better left to fade away. This could be a new start, one where they got along as equals, and maybe even friends, in Bebinn's crazy carnival.
"I would've made your favorite, but I didn't know what it was," Mitsi said.
Lira shifted guiltily in her seat, feeling a blush creep up her neck. She hadn't thought to ask Owen even when Atlas had told her what Mitsi was cooking. Her mother would have been horrified at Lira's lack of manners.
Stop, she told herself. Don't think about home.
Owen shook his head again, though this time it was in clear response to the present situation. "No worries. I'm hungry enough to eat a horse, doesn't matter what the food is." Lira smiled at the unintended joke as Owen helped himself to some dumplings. "For the record, it's jambalaya. Or lobster rolls," he continued.
Neither of those things came to mind when Lira thought of favorite foods. She wrinkled her nose at the thought of lobster. "Why those?" she asked.
"My mom is from New Orleans, my father was from Boston. They used to argue about which kind of seafood was better."
"I've always wanted to go to New Orleans," mused Lira. It stung a bit to think about all the places she would like to go if she weren't here, but she pushed the longing feeling away. After all, it wasn't any different than the thought of all the school events and parties she had missed out on because of violin.
"For the music?" asked Owen, popping a dumpling into his mouth.
Lira made a face. "Not everything in my life is about music." She sighed and cut herself another slice of cheesecake. "But yes, that's part of it."
"You'll have to tell me how it is," said Owen. The food seemed to have woken him up for color had returned to his face and he leaned over the table to serve himself some of the paella.
"You've never been?" asked Lira.
"No, but the way my mom talks about it, sometimes I feel like I have." He took a bite of his food and gave Mitsi a thumbs up. "I'd like to go there myself someday, though."
"The food there is awesome," said Mitsi. "Better than a lot of other places in the U.S."
"Do you travel a lot?" Owen asked Mitsi.
"Usually, no. But my parents dragged me on a bunch of college tours. I always tried to convince them to go to a local restaurant after."
Lira stared a Mitsi curiously. She had never heard him speak so much, and when she had summoned him he had just turned twelve-years-old; a year younger than she had been herself at the time.
"Why were you going on college tours so young?" asked Owen, voicing her question aloud and in a much more acceptably curious tone of voice than she would have managed.
Mitsi shrugged. "They were mostly for my older brother, but I think they brought me along hoping one of the tours might encourage me to give up going to culinary school."
"Don't give up on that," said Owen. "This is the best food I've ever eaten." His plate, scraped clean, proved his point and even as he spoke he leaned in for more. Lira was tempted to reach for yet another piece of cake, but her stomach already felt strained. She tried to remember the last time she had felt this full fed and couldn't. Usually she just picked at her food before leaving to go practice with her plate still half-full.
Mitsi shrugged again and lifted a hand to brush his long, black hair out of his eyes, trying to hide a sheepish grin. He stood and picked up the empty dishes. "I'll be right back. There's crème brulee in the oven."
Lira watched him go, trying to figure out if she had room for the crème brulee, when she realized Atlas hadn't said a word since Owen sat down. She turned to look at the small girl only to find her watching Owen with a thoughtful expression on her doll-like face. But when her gaze clicked back to Lira there was nothing but her usual complacent air in her crimson eyes.
"You said your father was from Boston," the girl said, regarding Owen with a tilt of her head.
Owen nodded and Lira saw the muscles in his jaw tense. "Yes, my father left six years ago. I don't know where he is-he could be dead for all I know."
Lira blanched and managed to catch her fork before it slipped through her fingers. She hadn't been expecting such a stark truth and the satiated, sleepy feeling that had stolen over her with all the food she had eaten slipped away in the cold aftermath of his words.
"I'm sorry," she said softly. "That must've been terrible." She couldn't imagine what it would have been like to grow up without her dad. Of course, she had been without her parents for the last four years, but it wasn't quite the same. They were still out there, together, somewhere in the world waiting for her to come home. What would it have been like, she wondered, to be at home where such a huge piece was missing? Where such an important piece of who you were had voluntarily left?
"It was for my mom," Owen agreed.
"But not for you?" asked Atlas, cocking her head the other way.
"Why should I care about someone who doesn't care about me?" He said this with an indifferent shrug, but Lira could hear a rawness in the quality of his words. Whatever he felt now, he hadn't always felt that way.
Atlas flicked her dark braid over her should and placed her folded hands on the table top. "Sometimes these things are for the best, even if we don't understand why."
Owen swung his head to face her and there was anger in his eyes. "So you're saying it's a good thing my father abandoned us?"
Atlas held his gaze steadily. "What's for the best and what is good are not necessarily the same."
Lira had a feeling Atlas was talking about her own abusive father and how it would have been better for her family had he left them as well. But of course, Owen didn't know that. All he saw was a little girl telling him not to miss his dad.
Owen scowled. "You don't even know what you're talking about."
"I think Atlas just means there could be a positive side you can't see," said Lira, wanting to step in on Atlas's behalf as she had done so many times for Lira. Owen snorted, gearing up to argue, but Lira pressed on. "You never know. Things could have turned out worse if your dad had stayed."
"Things are already pretty much at rock bottom, so I don't think it could have gotten that bad," scoffed Owen.
"Things can always get worse," said Atlas mildly.
Lira winced, guessing that's not what Owen wanted to hear. Sure enough, he glowered at Atlas with more hate and anger than Lira had thought him capable of.
"And you know this from all of your life experiences?" he demanded.
"Don't yell at her!" snapped Lira. She knew Atlas could handle herself, but she didn't like Owen jumping to conclusions knowing what she did about Atlas's past.
Owen rounded on her, nearly knocking his empty bowl off the table. "Tell me, have either of your fathers walked out on you and left you to take care of your mom and autistic brother?"
Both girls shook their heads, but before either could respond Owen kept going. "I didn't think so. So, it would be nice if you didn't tell me what's best for my family."
With a squeal of metal against the tiled floor, Owen stood up and stormed out of the kitchen.
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Hmm, thoughts on their fight? Let me know in the comments!
Thanks for reading =D