“We’re not having instant mashed potatoes just to appease him.” I had to draw the line somewhere. People had been coddling him for nearly fifty years. It was time he grew the fuck up and ate what was put in front of him. If he was lucky, I’d leave some plain mashed before piling shredded cheese on the rest and baking it.
“Brandon, you know it’s easier to deal with it than listen to him complain all afternoon.” Yes, I did. I was also fully aware she never would have accepted that behavior from her own kids, even when we were younger. “So, about Matt and his mom?”
“I’m not sure yet,” I admitted as I scribbled a few ideas under the menu Mom had put together. I pulled out my phone and started searching through the recipes I had bookmarked when I’d first came up with the idea of preparing Christmas dinner as a way to ease the discussion about my major.
“How can you not know? It’s a tradition that they’re here with us.” I watched as she puttered around the kitchen. When she started pulling the storage containers of flour and sugar out of the cupboards, I knew shit was getting real. “I know they’re a proud bunch, but seriously, Brandon, I don’t see why they have to be so stubborn. It’s not right for them to be alone inthat houseon a holiday.”
“I know that, and you know that, but it’s always been this way. For all I know, they could have other plans.” I highly doubted it, but I was trying to get her to drop the damn subject so I could have five minutes without obsessing over the chasm between Matt and me.
“Well, please try to find out. I need to know how many guests we’re going to have so we can get the extra tables pulled up from the basement.” What she really meant was, so she knew how many tablesIneeded to bring upstairs. My brother and sister wouldn’t be here until Christmas Eve with their families, and that was simply too late to set up by her standards.
“I’ll have an answer by tonight,” I promised her. I was sick of Matt trying to dodge me. If he wanted to keep avoiding me, I wasn’t above using the key I had. I’d park around the corner and wait for him in the dark if I had to.
Mom sat down next to me at the island and we went through the menu. She asked questions about some of the substitutions I’d made and voiced her concerns about me managing to get everything on the table by noon, but in the end, she seemed impressed by my plans. She didn’t realize I’d spent my free time figuring out the best way to work on the various dishes to make sure they all came out of the kitchen on time. Next, I helped her put together a list of baking that would keep the ovens running for the next two days, and we headed out to the store.
I loved the times it was just Mom and me. She might not understand why I resented their insistence that I get a “normal” college degree, but she was willing to listen. As we strolled the aisles of the grocery store, I told her how I’d taken over cooking for our suite. She looked at me like I was insane as I explained how cooking for six college guys was a way to relax before I tackled my homework. I was used to that reaction. The guys always shook their heads but never bitched about forking over their share of the grocery bill, and there were rarely leftovers.
For her, cooking was a necessity. She was the caretaker of the family and that included preparing meals every day of the week. Dining out was a rare treat growing up, because my dad hoarded the wealth he’d amassed like a dragon with his treasures. I was pretty sure she was secretly relieved to have my help in the kitchen for Christmas dinner, even if it was going to result in endless rations of shit from my dad and brother.
She stood back as I picked the perfect produce, smiling like she was proud of me as I filled the cart. In the meat department, she gave up trying to have any input as I picked out not only the ham for Christmas Day, but also a prime rib that would be epic for Christmas Eve. She didn’t realize it, but that was part of my plan to lure Matt to the house. No way could he resist when red meat was on the line. And if he and his mom happened to crash at our place that night, they wouldn’t have to drive back for the big celebration.
“You really enjoy this, don’t you?” Mom followed me up and down the aisles of the store.
Yes, Mom. It’s my passion, but you and Dad made it sound like it’s not a respectable enough career.
When I took too long to answer, Mom rested her hand on my forearm. “Honey? Is everything okay?”
The middle of the cereal aisle wasn’t the ideal place to have a heavy conversation, but this, of all times, was when Mom chose to be observant. If I didn’t tell her where my head was at, she was going to nag me until I caved. It was her way of showing she cared. I jerked my head to the side and kept walking. She plucked each of the grandkids’ favorite cereals off the shelf. When we’d been kids, brightly colored, sugary goodness had been off-limits. Apparently, different rules applied when you could send the kids home at some point.
Talking while we were in public turned out to be the best plan. She couldn’t make a scene and I could pretend to be too busy making sure I didn’t ram into anyone’s heels to look at her. “So, I know you and Dad want me to get a degree, but I’m not sure I want to go into business.”
“Are you saying you want to drop out? Take a year off? What are we talking about here, Brandon?” she interrupted. She’d never been good at waiting until someone got done speaking if they weren’t offering the details she wanted quickly enough.
“No, nothing like that,” I reassured her. Annandale Eastern had agreathospitality management program. I’d already done the research to find out how many extra courses I was going to have to take because I’d waited so long to switch majors and had been relieved to find out it only added one semester to my plans. “I know a college education is important to both of you, and it is to me, too. But I’d like to do something where I can combine my passion with my career.”
“You’re going to be a chef now?” To her credit, she didn’t sound appalled by the idea, only surprised.
“No. Geez, Mom. Do you think you could let me get this outand thenask questions?” I let out an audible sigh. “I’m going to switch to the hospitality management program at school.”
“I see.” Mom tapped her lips with a perfectly manicured nail. “And what do you plan on doing after graduation? I’m not trying to shoot you down, but I do worry you’re not thinking things through, honey. You need to make sure the money you’ve spent getting an education won’t be wasting doing a job that’s beneath you.”
And there it was. She’d spewed shit like that so often I wondered if she even knew what she meant by it. Hell, sometimesIwondered what exactly she meant because she’s never been a classist snob like some of my parents’ friends. This time, I wasn’t leaving any room for argument. This was what I wanted to do, and I refused to live my life trying to live up to their expectations. “Doing something I enjoy isn’tbeneath me, Mom. It’s trying to set myself up to not burn out or wind up with ulcers by the time I’m thirty. At first, I might go into restaurant or hotel management, but my five-year plan is to be on my way to opening my own catering company. In case you didn’t notice, I enjoy putting together menus that take people on a journey from the first course through dessert.”
“That sounds ambitious.” She didn’t say anything at all through the next two aisles. I wondered if the shoppers passing us in the other direction could feel the tension in the air. Finally, she stopped, let out a deep breath, and turned to me. “Your father isn’t going to be happy about this.”
I nodded once to let her know I understood and agreed.
“But I think it’s wonderful that you want to forge your own path,” she praised me. I wasn’t sure when I’d last seen a gleaming, genuine smile on her face. “It’s going to take time for him to understand that this is something you truly want, but once you prove to him that you can be successful, he’ll come around.”
“I don’t plan onprovinganything to him. He can accept it or not, but this ismy life, Mom.” There were only a few aisles left and we couldn’t get through them fast enough. Every time she pulled this ‘I support you, but what about your dad?’ bullshit, it made my skin itch.
“I understand.” Silence fell between us again. I couldn’t wait until we got home. Now Ireallyneeded to escape.
“Once we have everything put away, I’m going to head over to Matt’s for a bit,” I informed her as I loaded our groceries onto the belt.
“That’s fine. I’m surprised you’ve been around the house as much as you have. I was starting to worry the two of you might have had a falling out.” She wasn’t the only one. Something was definitely going on, and I planned to figure out what in the hell it was before I went to sleep tonight. “Should we expect you home for dinner tonight?”
“Nah. If we don’t head out for pizza or something, I’ll grab a bite on my way home.” She didn’t need to know I was already trying to figure out what I needed to pick up on my next trip to the store so I could make dinner for us and possibly some freezer meals for them to heat up while he was home.
