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Show 114 filled it from a bottle. "What's that?" Karl asked. "Slivovice. Plum brandy. You can't dance at a Slovak wedding without a shot of slivovice to warm you. Bohze daj zdrave," Andy said, clicking his glass against Karl's. "That's what you say when you drink with a Slovak." "Bohze daj zdrave," Karl repeated, making Andy laugh at the mangled pronounciation. Tilting his head backward, Karl threw the clear liquid into his throat the way he'd seen men drink the toast at the bridal table. Scalding fire burned a trail from Karl's throat to the middle of his chest. Shocked, he inhaled deeply through his open mouth, as though the warm air of the Sokol Hall could put out the inferno inside him. "You better drink a beer to cool off," Andy said when he noticed Karl's watering eyes. Trying to keep his composure, Karl gasped, "All the-..." The words caught against his seared vocal chords. He swallowed and tried again. "All the women are dancing except Miss Petrov. Why doesn't anyone ask her to dance?" Slowly sipping his slivovice, Andy answered, "The men feel shy around her. They're all laborers in the mill, and she's an educated woman, a teacher. In the old country, she'd be in a higher social class than they are, so they're scared to ask her for a dance." The blazing heat in Karl's stomach subsided, radiating pleasant warmth. He relaxed. |