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  “Come on, synak, you have to stay,” my mother begs with her pretty Slovak accent.

  Despite the irresistible scent of the buffet my sister and Mom prepared, along with its mouthwatering visual, I dread this day every year.

  They all know how I feel about this. How important it is for me to remember him the right way. And these moments, which should bring joy and complicity within our family, only remind me how wrong our lives have become.

  “I hate it when you do that,” she adds, disappearing into the kitchen, opening cabinets for yet a little bit more food.

  In the corner of my eye, I see Elena snatch some Lok?e. My stomach gurgles.

  “Do what?” I ask.

  “Look at me with your big brown eyes and hope I’ll get tired enough to wait for an answer.” She comes back to the dining room, hardly covering the smile on her lips.

  “It’s hazel,” I correct her, grasping a piece of Vyprá?any syr my sister gives me behind my mother’s back.

  “What?” she yaps, turning around after placing the napkins next to the plates. I try my best not to chew, but my cheeks are stuffed, and she immediately notices. Her stare could kill matter. Dissect molecules. Bombard atoms.

  I place my hand over her arm in an act of peace and give her a gentle squeeze. “The color of my eyes. It’s hazel. Same as yours.”

  Except for that, and the shape of my nose, the rest I inherited from my father. Dark, bushy eyebrows matching the hair. Large hands and bones. Sharp, masculine features.

  “Katarina, love, let him go if he prefers.”

  Speaking of the devil.

  Stefan enters the room like he would in court. His casual, imposing presence has always brought fear during my childhood. But now, I only feel exhaustion.

  “Hello, father.”

  “You are wasting everyone’s time,” he says, watching me as though I’m a stain on his shirt. “Choose.”

  I wish I could.

  Spending time with my family is probably the best option to ‘waste time’. Elena’s energy might be too much to handle sometimes, but my mother’s tenderness usually resolves the trouble that befalls us. And Stefan is often the trouble in question.

  I know, deep down, that he only wants the best for me and my academic future.

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  Maybe a bit too much about the latter and not so much about the former.

  My happiness, or my well-being, frequently subsides to other subjects. “Have you talked to Dr. Krelic?” he demands, sitting around the table first.

  Katarina and Elena follow, and I’m now forced to join the party as well.

  My work at the university is one of those subjects. The advancement of my medical article, which has been waiting on my desk, is another. He’d also love to elaborate on my promotion as a research professor, but I don’t see that happening in the near future. For now, I’ll have to stick with Lecturer, despite my PhD and the promise of my former advisor, Isabella, for an opportunity at Tufts’ labs.

  Because, after four years, all I’ve won is more classes to teach and not a single more word on that damn article.

  My chance of ever reaching my goal is thinning by the second. “I couldn’t even if I wanted to, Dr. Krelic has been retired for a year.” His expression remains stoic, as if he’s not listening. “I thought I told you that.”

  “You didn’t.”

  I did. But there’s no point in arguing with this man. I’ve never met someone as stubborn as him.

  Both my sister and mother watch the conversation silently. They eat in silence, surely just as tired as I am from hearing the same things over and over again.

  “You know,” Stefan insists. “Your lack of publications isn’t helping. How’s your article coming along?”

  “Good,” I lie. Mentally checking another box. Tonight is not the proper moment to speak of this. I don’t have it in me. “You’ll be the first to know when it’s finished.

  “I hope so.” He chews one, two, three times, swallows, and then points at me with his knife. “If you don’t put yourself out there, show your worth, nobody’s ever going to hire you. This isn’t about the diplomas anymore. They need to be on their knees for what you could offer to the science field.”

  Talking like a true shark of a lawyer.

  These words, I’ve told myself in the past already. Unfortunately, they got buried alongside my motivation under Anxiety and Fear of Failure. What Stefan seems to forget is that I’m not the only one (unconsciously) working against my dream. I wish I could just snap my fingers and magically get to where I need to be: participating in the improvement of science and cures. Some aspects are beyond me. Above me, really. And it answers to the name Clark Haynes.

  “You have a reputation at Tufts,” my father continues, and the tone he employs reminds me of the numerous scolds I got as a kid. His expensive watch clings while he dabs on his lips with his napkin.

  I serve myself some more Lokse. “Oh yeah?” I say, not bothering to conceal my annoyance.

  “They say you are rude. Rough.” He waits, letting the silence simmer among the sounds of cutlery and mastication. Could he be hesitating to avoid hurting my feelings? “They say you are unqualified.”

  My mother interrupts in Slovak. I don’t recognize the words, but I get their meaning. Elena has stopped eating.

  “I always speak to him like this,” Stefan answers, squeezing her hand in his.

  Elena leans my way and murmurs while our parents continue bickering on the side. “And it works, apparently.”

  I shoot her a wink, and she laughs.

  “No need to fight over me again,” I state when their voices start to rise, the loud noise of my chair enough to draw their attention. “They would have fired me if I weren’t qualified, Dad. They’ve asked that I take over Dr. Felandra’s courses while she’s on her maternity leave.”

  He nods while I grab my sweater from the backrest of the chair. They all follow when I reach for the entrance and the coat hanger. “I have much to do,” I add.

  “Alright, son. You can do it.” He admits, giving me one of his rough hugs. He won’t apologize for his behavior, as he doesn’t even realize what he did. But I trust Katarina will give him a piece of her mind, at least. “Just keep us updated.”

  “Of course.” I take Elena by the neck and shove her onto my chest. “Talk to you later, sis. And good luck for your first day.”

  “You say that as if we won’t see each other there.”

  “We will cross paths, probably.”

  She will be starting her year at Tufts University as well, only in the Engineering department.

  “Give me a kiss,” mother says, and I bend for her to smash a peck on my cheek. “Take care.”

  “Thanks for dinner,” I answer.