Day 303 - Dinner Story

Dinner Story

Matthew Ryan Fischer

Holiday dinners were the worst – unfinished business and buried resentments always lingered in the air. They gathered because it was the change in seasons. They gathered because they believed in the old holidays, the end of summer – Samhain, when the darker half of the year began and the spirits of the living and dead were close together for one special evening.

Willie didn’t hate his family; he just couldn’t stand them sometimes. He hated feeling trapped. He hated being forced into seeing all sorts of relatives that he wouldn’t otherwise choose to ever see. There were the expectations, the family impositions. He didn’t want to feel frustrated and overwhelmed; it just worked out that way most times.

Kitchen duty – everybody had a job. No matter their ability. Everyone made something. And on the years where distant distant relatives arrived, they made something too. There were always too many dishes, too much commotion, and too much food. It was a feast when a meal would have sufficed. Space was always at a premium. There was only the one stove inside and the grill outside. More relatives meant more dishes which meant longer lines and longer wait times at each station. It was a miracle anything ever got finished in time. Too many cooks, not enough kitchens.

Cousin Lydia brought a friend who had nowhere else to be. When Willie first heard the news he was instantly annoyed. Just because someone had no place else to be didn’t mean they should get to come to his family’s celebration. Willie made sure everyone knew his opinion. When Lydia arrived with her friend Casiopea, he instantly regretted being so stubborn and vocal. She was beautiful with a pale glow to her skin. She was quiet and collected, with a look of tortured wisdom hiding behind her innocent eyes. It made her seem brave, experienced, and a little bit dangerous. Willie was instantly enchanted. He was sure everyone saw his reaction. He wondered if she knew what she was doing. He didn’t really care either way.

Lydia introduced her to everyone, but Casiopea didn’t speak. Willie wasn’t sure if she was incredibly shy or just extremely careful with her words. Some people believed words had power and perhaps she wasn’t one to waste any. Willie planned to ask her about that later, but he had kitchen duties to perform and his cheeks were flush with infatuation, so he quickly fled the room.

Willie’s sister Alexandra was in charge of the kitchen. She had been learning the craft from their mother and this was her year to shine. She made the schedule and she assigned the dishes and tasks. It was her kitchen. She had cleaned it and prepared it and made sure all the proper ingredients were there. She was making something special for each course of the meal. She had a secret dessert she wouldn’t tell anyone about, except to promise them it would live up to the suspense.

Cousins Mikhail and Nadia, twins, crafted a stew which had been brought over from the old country and handed down for generations. They swore it held special ingredients that promoted heart health and mental astuteness. Willie swore it held special ingredients that made a repugnant smell beyond belief. Everyone would taste it though, because that was what they did.

Aunt Rochelle rolled dough for meat pies. She never let anyone know what exactly was in the filling. She wouldn’t even say what type of meat it was. She cooked it there, but she always premade the filling, not wanting to reveal what it was. “A touch of this a touch of that,” was what she’d say when asked.

There were too many people trying to work and not enough space. The fires were burning and the stove was on, so the room was far too hot. Willie couldn’t stand it. He was sweating from the heat and from his embarrassment. He told his sister he would come back. Alexandra didn’t care. She had more important things to worry about at the moment.

Later, they ate. Plates were full and dish after dish was brought forth from the kitchen. Alexandra managed things with a smile, even though she was nearly uncontrollably anxious inside. Willie made sure to grab a seat next to Casiopea. Her reticence continued, but she finally did say a few choice words to him. He savored every one of them, even though he didn’t always know what they meant.

They sat around the table and feasted. They ate like beasts. Grease and juices ran down their faces. Bits of meat and drips of sauces stained their shirts. Blood mixed and fingers tingled. They licked their lips and felt the flavors wash over them. They drank it up and felt the spirit of forever inside them. There was a family connection and love and kindness and smiles and general good cheer.

At one point Casiopea tried one of the meat pies. She licked her lips and nodded in approval. She looked to Aunt Rochelle and quietly asked, “What is it?”

Everyone looked back and forth from Casiopea to Aunt Rochelle. The room was silent. Aunt Rochelle never told anyone what was in her pies, but there was something so sincere about Casiopea. She had been so silent all day; everyone knew her words were precious. They all watched the confrontation with bated anticipation.

Aunt Rochelle smiled and in a deadpan serious voice, replied, “Not ‘what’, dearie. Who.”

There was a moment of silence. The family looked back and forth.

Finally Casiopea laughed a loud boisterous laugh. Then they all did.

Alexandra sighed in relief.

Dinner was a success.