General Fiction posted August 9, 2025 Chapters:  ...16 17 -18- 19... 


Exceptional
This work has reached the exceptional level
The Dinner Party
A chapter in the book Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate

Dmitri's Extraordinary Fate: 18

by tfawcus




Background
Dmitri has been recovering from catatonia in Elena's care. He is in love with Leila, who works for her, but her aunt has summoned her to Syria. They have been invited to dinner at Major Kolt's house.
The end of Chapter Seventeen:
 
'Ladies and gentlemen. Dinner is served.'

As the party moved forward, Dmitri fell into step behind them, heart still fluttering. He had no idea what awaited him behind the double doors, but he knew one thing for certain: he was out of his depth.
 
Chapter Eighteen
 
Major Kolt led the way, with the mayoress on his left arm and Elena on his right. They were followed by Pavla and the doctor's wife. The gentlemen came next, and Dmitri took up a position at the rear.

He had a sinking feeling he would be seated next to the formidable Mayor Borodin and the doctor (whose piercing eyes and Van Dyke beard reminded the poor boy of a picture of Lenin he'd once seen). He imagined that he would be forced into excruciating conversation.

However, when they took up position waiting for Major Kolt to seat the guest of honour, he was relieved to find he was flanked by Pavla and the doctor's wife. The latter leaned towards him in a conspiratorial manner and whispered, 'My name is Nadia, by the way,' while at the same time flashing him a smile that could have melted an iceberg.

His eyes stopped roving over the cut-glass wine goblets glinting in the candlelight, and he gave her a look so grateful that one might have thought she had offered him her emerald necklace and all that lay beneath. He glanced anxiously across to the doctor who was, at that moment, sliding Pavla's chair out for her. Taking the cue, he did likewise for the lovely Nadia.

'How kind of you, young man.' She smiled across at Pavla and said, 'So this is the famous Dmitri you spoke so highly of in the drawing room. I've been dying to meet him.'

The arrival of a squeaky trolley broke the hushed conversation that ensued between the three of them. It was propelled by Fedir, who was now wearing the white jacket of a waiter, and it bore a large tureen. The room fell silent, and all eyes were upon him.

Feeling compelled to say something, he ventured, 'Soup, anyone? Chicken broth with dill. 'Tis very good. I had a taste in the kitchen.

Major Kolt beckoned him impatiently. 'That's enough, Fedir. We don't need your life story.'

While Fedir dispensed the soup, the major selected a bottle from the wine fridge, a straw-coloured wine with a black and gold label. 'Ah, here's one you ladies might enjoy. A splendid little local wine from Chateau Chizay. It has a crisp, fruity flavour that owes much to the unique terroir of Transcarpathia.'

Dmitri suppressed a giggle and whispered to Pavla, 'Did he just say "a terror from Transylvania?"'

Pavla held her serviette to her mouth and turned what might have been spluttering laughter into a discreet cough.

The major looked up sharply. 'Come now, Dmitri. Will you do the honours for us, please?'

Dmitri sprang into action, took the bottle, and began pouring into the major's glass. The major tapped him on the shoulder and said, in a stage whisper clearly designed to embarrass him, 'Ladies first, young man.' He accompanied his words with a tilt of the eyebrows and a faint smile.
 
Elena flinched, and though her expression remained pleasant, the corners of her mouth tightened faintly. When Dmitri came up behind her and was about to start pouring, she looked up at him and said, 'Just half a glass for me, dear.'

The soup was served in wide, shallow bowls, steam curling gently above the pale gold surface. Dmitri had expected something heavier, more pungent, but this was light and refreshing, and he found himself relaxing as he tasted it.

The doctor, meanwhile, was recounting to Pavla some incident from the clinic, his hands sketching invisible diagrams in the air. Nadia gave Dmitri a wry smile, the kind people share when they know their spouse has been telling the same story for years.

The second course was river trout, glistening under a drizzle of butter and herbs. Pavla leaned slightly towards Dmitri. 'Fedir caught these this morning.'

Across the table, Fedir, who was stationed near the sideboard, gave a discreet cough. The major shot him a look that might have been stern, though there was an unmistakable twitch at the corner of his mouth.

By the time the roast duck appeared, the conversation had settled into comfortable, overlapping threads. Dmitri found himself speaking more than he had in weeks, Nadia's easy manner drawing him out. Elena, he noticed, was quieter now, her smile a little fixed.

She caught his glance once, and there was something reproachful in it, though whether at him or at herself, he couldn't tell. He remembered, then, that this evening had been built on a deception of his and Pavla's making, and a dull weight settled in his stomach.

Conversation continued to flow freely as the meal progressed, winding between the mayor's hunting exploits and Pavla's recollections of an art exhibition she had once staged in Kyiv. Elena laughed easily, though Dmitri noticed she kept her glass mostly untouched.

A fresh bottle of wine accompanied each course. While his guests exercised some restraint, the major quaffed freely. He also refilled Dmitri's glass on several occasions without asking, loosening his tongue and inspiring him to speak with even more confidence, at times addressing the whole table rather than just his own little coterie.

After the last course had been cleared away, the major tapped the rim of his glass with a fork. 'My friends,' he began, favouring the assembled gathering with an expansive smile, 'Mayor Borodin has a few words he would like to share.' He swept his arm forward in a mock bow. 'The floor is yours, my dear Ruslan...'

The mayor clipped a pair of pince-nez to his nose and withdrew a small sheet of paper from his pocket. He arose, gave a slight cough, and shifted his gaze to Elena.

'My dear Mrs Prishtina, what a privilege it is to have you with us tonight. Your work at the clinic is known to us all, of course. But I want it said here, plainly, in front of witnesses, that your service has been nothing short of outstanding.'

Elena coloured, murmuring her thanks, but Mayor Borodin was not finished. He produced a small box from his jacket and opened it to reveal a gold medallion. 'I would now like to make a presentation on behalf of the town and the clinic to recognise your devotion to duty. And how appropriate that it should coincide with your 40th birthday. Many happy returns!'

The assembled gathering clapped politely, and Elena's smile faltered. She was clearly embarrassed, though she did her best to conceal it. Dmitri glanced anxiously at Pavla when the birthday was mentioned, then, in a moment of bravado, he leapt to his feet.
 
'A toast to Elena! Please be upstanding!' The phrase was one he remembered from somewhere, and he hoped it was appropriate. As he raised his glass, his eyes met those of the major, and he faltered.

'You overstep the mark, Master Zahir. It is up to the host to propose toasts, and the first one is always, "Glory to Ukraine!" He uttered the words while standing rigidly at attention, and he swung his glass to his lips as if it were a sword presenting arms. In doing so, he splashed half of the contents down the front of his dress shirt. The winestain spread slowly across his chest like a mortal wound.

For an instant, there was a stunned silence, then the guests rose with one accord to give the time-honoured response, "Glory to the heroes!"

The loyal toast complete, Ruslan Borodin remained standing. 'My dear Andriy, what a pleasant evening this has been, but I fear Olena and I must be on our way. I have to be up early in the morning.'

Dr Savchenko also rose to his feet. 'And since Ruslan was kind enough to give us a lift here this evening, Nadia and I must also take our leave. It has been delightful. Truly delightful.' He gave a thin-lipped smile and beckoned to Nadia with his eyes.

'Such a pleasure to have had the privilege of welcoming you to Velinkra, Viktor. Perhaps you will be able to return the favour one day by dressing my wounds when I return from the battlefield.' The major clutched at his winestain melodramatically and fixed his eye on Dmitri. 'Even here in my own home, I am not immune from assault.'

As he escorted his guests to the front door, a deathly hush fell on the room. Elena gave Dmitri a weak smile of sympathy, and Pavla whispered, 'Take no heed of him. He is the worse for drink and forgets himself. I have seen it all before. Nonetheless, tread carefully. He can be a dangerous adversary.'

Elena regretted not having taken the opportunity to leave at the same time as the other guests and was framing a farewell in her mind when distracted by the sound of a squeaky trolley approaching from the kitchen.

Fedir scratched his head thoughtfully when he found only three guests remaining. However, he shrugged his shoulders and lifted the birthday cake from the trolley. He stumbled towards Dmitri, nearly tipping the entire confection in his lap, but managed at the last minute to retrieve his balance, and he slid it safely onto the table, knocking Dmitri's glass over in the process.

He then stood back, evidently pleased with the outcome, and said, 'Happy birthday, young sir, and may you live long enough to enjoy many more.'

The major's thunderous demeanour when he re-entered the room cast considerable doubt on that happy outcome. It took him a moment to comprehend the transformation of Elena's birthday cake into one for this young upstart, and he was about to launch into another diatribe when he was arrested by Pavla's warning cough.

He cast a withering look at Fedir, who shrank several inches before retreating.

'So, the young man has come of age, has he? This calls for a celebration.'

He strode across to the sideboard and grasped a decanter, curling his fingers around its neck as if it were a chicken he intended to strangle, and he returned to his seat.

'Well? What have you got to say for yourself?'

Dmitri cleared his throat. 'It's like this, sir...'

'Come on, lad. Spit it out. What are you going to do with yourself now you've reached the age of adultery?'

Fuelled by Dutch courage, Dmitri launched into a more confident reply. 'As you probably know, sir, Pavla has been giving me art lessons. She thinks I have talent and is encouraging me to become a war artist.'

'No, no, lad. I don't mean in seven or eight years' time. I mean now.'

'So do I, sir. At least, as soon as I have helped Leila out of her current difficulties.'

'What kind of nonsense have you been filling the lad's head with? Starting now? Pshaw!'

Pavla's response was quiet yet firm. 'He has a unique talent, Andriy. He captures grief and hardship in his painting in a most extraordinary way.'

'And you think battle-hardened soldiers will take to a mere stripling making a caricature of their misfortunes? You must be mad, woman. There isn't one of them a day under twenty-five.'

'That's another thing, sir. Perhaps you can tell me. Why does the government deny me the right to leave the country when the conscription age is twenty-five?'

The major splashed a generous measure of plum brandy into his wine glass, swilled it around, and drained it in one draught. 'So, you'd like me to tell you that, would you?' He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. 'Soldiers on the battlefront are being slaughtered every day. We're losing an entire generation. And how are we to recover? Eh? I'll tell you. Your country is giving you free licence to fornicate your way across the land for the next seven years.' He saw Elena's horrified look. 'Sorry, ma'am—to sow his wild oats. It's your responsibility to replace the lost generation before you go into battle and give your life for your country.' He slopped more liqueur into his wine glass. 'And you may as well start with the lovely Leila—if you haven't already done so.'

Dmitri sprang to his feet. 'How dare you, sir! You'll pay for that. You see if you don't.' He tore off his dinner jacket, rolled up his sleeves and bore down on the major with his fists raised.

The major grasped the half-empty decanter and lurched to his feet. 'All right, lad. Let's see what you're made of.'

Write A Review


Recognized


Characters

Dmitri Zahir, a teenage boy recovering from catatonia after the death of his twin sister in a bombing.
Mira Zahir, his twin sister, who was killed in a bomb attack.
Elena Prishtina, a volunteer carer looking after Dmitri and aiding his recovery.
Leila, a Syrian girl employed by Elena whom Dmitri has fallen in love with.
Pavla Miret, an art teacher who has been giving Dmitri lessons.
Andriy Kolt, an army major who Dmitri and Leila rescued when he fell fom his horse
Fedir, his faithful retainer
Ruslan Borodin, the Mayor of Velinkra
Olena, his wife
Dr and Mrs Savchenko (Viktor and Nadia), recent arrivals in Velinkra

Illustration by Art Pixel AI Images
Pays one point and 2 member cents.


Save to Bookcase Promote This Share or Bookmark
Print It Print It View Reviews

You need to login or register to write reviews. It's quick! We only ask four questions to new members.


© Copyright 2025. tfawcus All rights reserved.
tfawcus has granted FanStory, its affiliates and its syndicates non-exclusive rights to display this work.