By Rey Moreno
I am a stay-home wife. Not a choice. I married a hard-assed man whose ego is as massive as the sand dunes of Africa. Not only does he verbally abuses me, but hits me to give me “a good licking”, his words. I met him at the university. He was a charmer then. We got married right after graduation. That was 15 years ago. We have 2 children: Brian who is 14 years old and Amy who just turned 12 last month. I stay married for their sake. But how long will I suffer? I don’t know. In the meantime, I do what a stay-home wife usually does: prepare dinner.
I love to cook. It is a form of therapy that helps me cope with my life. My specialties, of course, are Filipino dishes, especially beef sinigang, chicken adobo, pansit, and kare-kare. I love other dishes from other countries as well. It is all about acquiring the taste. On my first introduction to sushi, I basically threw up. Now it’s part of our dinner menu. We have it once a month.
There’s something about experiencing foods from other cultures. It’s one adventure worth taking. All it takes is a gut (that can mean literally, too). I got this enlightenment by watching Anthony Bourdain’s food documentary, Parts Unknown. The guy ate everything. He’s quite an inspiration.
*****
I am on top of the world. I made partner in an accounting firm 5 years ago. I did it by bullying my way up the career ladder. My model is Donald Trump. I’m good in inflating my achievements and blaming others for errors made. I don’t apologize – it’s a sign of weakness to do so. I have no moral compass either for it, too, is a shortcoming. Might is right. I demand loyalty and commitment from my underlings. But I take all the credits for jobs well done.
There’s no exception. When I come home, I expect my no-good wife to serve me like a king. My house is my castle. Dinner should be precisely at 7pm and the children are properly dressed. Before we eat I lead the prayer with these words: “Lord, You have blessed this family so much. We are so humbled by your continued love and protection. We thank you and this meal, which my wife and mother to my beautiful children, has adoringly prepared. Amen.”
I love our family dinner. It’s my way of bonding with the kids. I want to instill in them the value of family. I got this idea from watching the TV series Blue Bloods. In spite of their busy lives, the Reagans still get together every Sunday for lunch. Attendance is a must. It’s their way of catching up with one another, as well as giving them a welcomed diversion, though the dinner conversations sometimes can be quite intense.
*****
If there’s one aspect of my husband’s house rules that I agree ardently is our family dinner. It enhances relations, be they families or strangers. I once read a book by Anne Tyler, Dinner at the Homesick Restaurant. The mother tried very hard to get her grown-up children agree for a family dinner. But her children always had ready excuses not to commit. When she died, that’s when the children finally assembled in a restaurant to have dinner together after her funeral. Poor mother!
So while my children are still at home, I want them to have the best culinary experiences they won’t forget. And when they have a family of their own, they can say to their children: “Hey guys, let’s visit Lola and spend a week or so with her. She prepares a helluva dinner!”
*****
These different cultural dishes that my no-good wife decides for our family dinner are getting out of hand. Yes, there are meals from other countries that are rich and tasty. But not everything is digestible. Just like immigrants. There are those who can blend in easily. But there are others who bring nothing but trouble. They carry with them their political baggage and expect us to tolerate their grievances. They make street protests and inconvenience everybody. Their voices are strong and loud because they know they won’t go to jail. They take advantage of Canada’s adherence to the rule of law. Who are they kidding? Let them go back where they come from and they will behave like lambs.
*****
The husband came home last night seething mad from work-related issue. Apparently, someone filed a complaint about him. His boss briefed him about the troubling situation. He might be fired. We had these conversations after dinner.
“Family, you should appreciate me more. I’ve been providing you with all the material things you need to have a comfortable life. Don’t ever think that money is not important!”
Brian spoke up: “Father, do you think money can buy love?”
“Of course! Look at Marc Anthony, the Puerto Rican American singer. Do you think he is good-looking? Yet he was once married to a Miss Universe beauty queen. Then he became the husband of Jennifer Lopez until she got tired of him. After Jennifer, he married a Venezuelan beauty younger than him. Do you think these beautiful ladies loved him for who he is without his money?”
Not to be outdone, Amy asked: “How about peace of mind?”
“Ah, are you familiar of ashrams? These are spiritual places mostly located in India and the United States. They impart yoga-related teachings that make you feel harmonious with yourself and your surroundings, thus allowing you to have a peace of mind at that moment. You may have to come back several times to master the yoga techniques. And that could be very, very costly. But enough of these questions! I am retiring to my study now. Wife, bring me a glass of whiskey. Quick!”
*****
I have to make amends with the wife. I lost my temper when she didn’t bring my glass of whiskey right away. So I gave her a good beating. That would teach her a lesson. I’m pretty sure her body is sore today. She can’t prepare dinner tonight.
“Hi honey. Don’t worry about dinner. I saw this restaurant on my way home the other day which caught my attention because of its unique name. I’ll go there after work and order some take-outs. See you soon. Ciao”
When I open the door I feel an eerie air blowing on my face. As I enter, I hear the last two lines from the song Hotel California by the Eagles: “You can check out any time you like/ But you can never leave!”
“May I see your menu?”
“Ah, well sir, we go by our name. There’s no menu. We cook whatever food you like. Come this way to our special kitchen! Here we surgically cut everything in exquisite pieces.”
*****
The husband never came home last night. Shall I be happy? Shall I be worried? Shall I feel free? Anyway, I’m at the police station now making a missing person report.
“Ma’am, you know we can’t actively look for your husband until after 24 hours.”
“I understand. But my husband never misses our dinner. In fact, the whole family never misses one. This is really quite unusual.”
“How long ago did you talk to your husband?”
“We spoke around 3pm yesterday. He said he’d be checking out this restaurant. I think I heard him say…No Menu Restaurant…”
(This story is wholeheartedly dedicated to International Women’s Day celebrated every year on March 8. May the women who are victims of domestic violence find the courage to escape a brutal relationship.)
Pickering, Ontario
March 18, 2020