Rejected
Alan Zurückgeben shuffled his feet nervously. He peeked down the flight of stairs ahead and listened to the noises coming from below, where the kitchen lay. When he heard a tinkling laughter, his stomach made a jolt. It'd been like that from the very first moment he saw those two little devils five days before. Ottoborg's twin sons were irresistible. Alan had left everything he had to travel with them, to their land, to their home. To this very place, at the landing of a staircase.Well. If Alan had come so far, he couldn't stop here. The Neverhoodian took a breath and he went down the stairs and into the kitchen.
“Alan, at last!” Ottoborg greeted him. “We've been waiting for so long, we thought the soup would turn to ice before you arrived!”
Alan's stomach made another twist, this time a highly unpleasant one. Embarrassed heat rose to his cheeks and he began to apologe when Caline cut in:
“Otto, don't be rude. Alan's on time. It was you who came early.”
Alan gave the woman a grateful smile. At least she had noticed. He wouldn't dare to show up late on the first dinner he had at the Ottoborg household.
Ottoborg rubbed the back of his head and he grinned sheepishly. “That's because you've cooked such good food! You've been in the kitchen since we got back home. The smell is downright divine. Can't blame me for being impatient.”
“Food, food!” the little twins cheered. Just the sight of them made Alan feel better. They were the most adorable beings Alan had ever seen and they seemed to like him just as much as he liked them.
“Alright then, dinner's served!” Caline announced, picking up a large stockpot from the stove. “Take a seat, Alan,” she told the Neverhoodian as she set the pot on the table.
“Um...” Thing was, Alan would love to take a seat, but he couldn't tell which seats were free for him to take. Around the table there was a large L-shaped bench and two chairs. The twins were playing on the bench while Ottoborg was sitting on one of the chairs, peeking under the lid of the stockpot curiously. He looked up to give Alan a genuinely puzzled look which gave the Neverhoodian the creeps. A memory of his dad flashed through his mind. Alan should have been used to handling this kind of weird people, but Ottoborg was just something else. Maybe it was because he came from a different world.
“Alan?” Caline pulled the Hoodian out of his thoughts. “Is something the matter?”
“Where should I sit?” Alan gathered the courage to ask.
“Oh.” Caline seemed surprised at that question. “You can sit on the bench. Hey guys, make place,” she shooed the twins to the side. Alan sat down at the shorter end of the bench, feeling out of place. But what could he expect from the first day on a different chunk of land? He scolded himself and coaxed the twins into sitting properly while soup was being served.
“Let's dig in!” Ottoborg cheered grabbing a spoon.
“Wait,” Caline stopped him. Ottoborg paused with his spoon halfway to his opened mouth. Caline smiled. “First we should say our thanks for the food.”
“Aw, but we never did that before,” Ottoborg protested.
“Well we will do it starting now,” Caline smiled even broader. “It's a custom I learned in Smark and I think it's a very nice way to show that you value the cook's work.”
“I can show that to you,” Ottoborg objected, “by eating as much as I can. And then, if that's not enough,” he put his hand under the table and Alan had the vivid impression that he was touching Caline's thigh, “I can show you I value your hard work when we're in bed.”
Alan clinked his glass with a spoon loudly. “I'd like to propose a toast,” he said, hoping to distract Ottoborg. “To the lovely lady of the house, who has spent hours upon hours making a delicious meal for us all. Cheers everyone.”
“Cheers,” Caline replied, blushing.
“Cheese,” the twins chirped.
“Cheers,” Ottoborg joined in. “Can we eat now?”
Caline rolled her eyes. “Yes, we can.”
“Let's dig in!” Ottoborg cheered and finally brought the spoon into his mouth. “Mmm, it's delicious!”
Alan was too busy marvelling at how cute the twins looked while handling their small cutlery to start eating his own soup. Caline nudged him gently.
“You won't get satiated just from watching them,” she said softly.
“Ah... sorry,” Alan apologised, giving her a quick grin. Caline grinned back and she asked Ottoborg about something.
Alan studied his soup briefly. Ottoborg had mentioned that it smelled great, but to be honest Alan didn't find the smell all that fantastic. He put a spoonful into his mouth and he found out that not only the smell, but also the taste was something he didn't quite appreciate. He could taste dust and mould and he wondered whether it was the recipe or some ingredients that he hadn't encountered before. He spared Ottoborg a glance. The king seemed all but in love with his soup, gulping it down as fast as he could. Then Alan noticed that Caline was looking at him. She must have wanted to know whether the new household member enjoyed her cooking. Alan put up a smile for her, swallowed and said: “It's very good.” That satisfied Caline and she began admonish the twins for dripping soup on the table. Alan scooped up another spoonful and he decided that he would just bear it with a smile. He had eaten worse things.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
Unfortunately Alan's hope that the main dish would taste better proved futile. Alan couldn't understand why. Even the twins, who hadn't been too enthusiastic about the soup, clapped their hands in delight when they saw what was being served next. Alan guessed that it was their favourite dish: a roasted something with mashed potatoes and lots of some long hairy plant which Caline had called “figgis”. Both the twins and Ottoborg had lots of fun pretending that it was a sword and challenging each other to fencing battles. The fight escalated when one of the twins climbed onto the table to be a better match for Ottoborg and knocked over his glass of wine. Caline immediately scolded the little one and went to fetch a piece of cloth. Alan tried to soothe the boy as he began crying. After a while of getting nowhere, Alan noticed that the boy's “figgis” was broken in half. The crying magically disappeared when Alan offered him his own, untouched figgis.
“Wow, you're good with kids,” Ottoborg wondered. Alan smirked. Three birds with one stone. The child wasn't crying anymore, Ottoborg was impressed and Alan didn't have to eat that figgis. He loved his power of deduction. He just wished that he could figure out why the food didn't taste good.
When Caline dried the table and poured Ottoborg a new glass of wine, the dinner continued. Despite having solved the crisis, Alan felt more and more uneasy. Main dish was finished and dessert was served, a huge apple pie powdered with sugar, and Ottoborg kept informing everyone of how full he was but he had to eat more because it was just so delicious, while Alan found himself unable to swallow a single more bite. Gradually he located the uneasy feeling to be emanating from his stomach. Then Caline asked him:
“Is something wrong? You've barely touched your dessert.”
“Please excuse me,” Alan said, standing up. “I'll be back in a minute.”
He strode out of the kitchen and up the stairs, suppressing the urge to break into run. He quickly found the bathroom and he closed he door behind him. He had been grasping for the word for a while but now he knew it: he felt sick. Very sick. Grabbing the edge of the sink, he barely had time to realise what was happening before his insides began contracting. His back arched as he threw up everything he had eaten into the sink. He could taste the food again and, to be honest, he wasn't sad to lose it. After the spasms stopped, he felt much better. He rinsed his mouth as best he could, given the dirty taste of the local water, and he washed the sink as well. Right then there was a knock on the door.
“Yes?” Alan replied, lifting his head.
“Is everything alright, Alan?” Caline's voice came through the door. “Your dessert's waiting and I won't be able to keep the guys from eating it for much longer.”
Alan's face twisted in distaste and he hastened to say: “You can let them have it. I'm not going to eat it.”
A short silence followed. Alan was panicking that he had just said something rude when Caline asked: “Can I come in?”
Alan checked the sink: clean like when he had entered. “Sure,” he said, bracing himself.
Caline opened the door and came inside. She studied Alan shortly, her scrutinising look pausing on Alan's belly. The Neverhoodian realised that he was resting his hand on it and he dropped it self-consciously.
“You're pale,” Caline observed. Alan checked himself in the mirror. She was right.
“It might be the lighting,” he suggested however. “You've made a great welcome dinner, queen Caline. Thank you.”
Caline nodded, but there was something in her expression that Alan couldn't quite make out. It became clear in the next moment, when tears appeared in Caline's eyes.
“I'm so sorry,” she sobbed, hugging Alan. The Neverhoodian returned the hug, surprised and a little confused. “I really wanted to give you the best welcome I could. But I was stupid. Not even the best preparation can change what I used as ingredients.”
“Ingredients?” Alan echoed, unsure. Caline nodded and let go of him.
“I thought that if I prepared the food well enough, it wouldn't be so apparent. But I just can't hide the fact that I don't cook from the best klay.”
“Ah...” Alan groaned quietly. So that's why the food hadn't tasted good.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
Caline grimaced. “Yeah.” She plopped down on the edge of the bathtub and she gazed at her feet. “That's the curse of every Neverhoodian that leaves the Hood. The food, the air, the objects... nothing feels as good. I'm sure Hoborg named all these things to you while he was trying to convince you to stay there.”
Giving a low chuckle, Alan confessed: “To be honest, I didn't listen to him.”
“That's what I thought,” Caline said with a lopsided smirk. “Hoborg knew what he was talking about though. Food made of regular klay doesn't only taste bad. It's completely rejected by the body to boot. It's like... like the best klay won't give up its purity.”
“But you ate the dinner just fine, even though you're made of the best klay,” Alan pointed out.
“That's because I'm used to it. Did you notice that I didn't eat anything during our visit on the Neverhood? If I did, I'd acquire taste for the best klay and Brokenhood food would make me sick all over again. As hard as it was to hold back, it would be even worse not to be able to eat for weeks.”
“Weeks,” Alan repeated. So he would throw up everything he ate for weeks? Brilliant.
Caline nodded. “It's really unpleasant but I'm afraid there's no way around it. Your body won't get used to the food if you don't eat it. In a few weeks you'll stop being sick and after a few months it will start tasting good.” She paused. “I'm so sorry for not telling you in advance. I thought...” she bit her lip and Alan realised that she was about to start crying again.
“It's alright, Caline. I honestly don't mind,” he hastened to say. “I just want to tell you that I appreciate all your hard work. You tried to make the meal the best you could and that's what counts.” He gave Caline a supportive smile, which in turn elicited a smile from her.
“You're really sweet Alan. It will be nice to have you around.” Caline wiped her eyes and she stood up with a grunt. “Well, that's all I had to say. Let's return downstairs.”
“Just one more thing,” Alan said quickly. “Could you please serve me smaller portions? To make the meals a little easier?”
“Of course.” Caline checked herself out in the mirror. “You know, after you get used to the food, you'll actually eat a lot more than you used to. Regular klay isn't very filling.” She patted her belly sceptically. “Or it's just that I love to eat.”
“I think you look gorgeous,” Alan said without thinking. Caline burst into giggles.
“I take back what I said earlier. It will be absolutely great to have you around.” Shaking her head and grinning from ear to ear she followed Alan out of the bathroom.
Alan listened to the evening air. “Are the twins still downstairs?” he asked.
“Most likely. After dinner they usually have a nap with their father,” Caline answered. “I'll do the dishes. In the meantime, why don't you nap with them? There's plenty of space on the sofa.”
“Okay,” Alan agreed as they were going down the stairs.
“I want you to know,” Caline said just before they reached the kitchen, “that I'm really glad to have you here. Not just because you'll take care of the twins, but also... it's nice to have a bigger family.”
Alan chuckled. “I'll do my best to be a good family member.”
“Just don't get too flustered over it,” Caline winked at him. “My folks can't hold a grudge. You virtually can't do anything wrong.”
Having said that, Caline headed left to take care of the dishes. Alan walked to the right, where Ottoborg and his twin sons were sprawled all over the sofa. Common sense told Alan that there was no space left for him.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
“Can't do anything wrong, huh?” he whispered to himself. Then he shrugged and gathered one of the boys in his arms. The child opened his eyes sleepily and squinted at Alan. “Sshh,” Alan told him as he picked the other boy up. Having created enough space for himself, he climbed onto the sofa and lied down, resting the twins against both his sides. The boys snuggled into his shirt, snaking their little arms over his belly to hold each other's hand. Alan found that incredibly adorable, which was the last thing on his mind before he realised how tired he was and he swiftly fell asleep.
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
(Picture by OttonandPooky.)
