“Exactly my point. Now that we’re going to be here for quite some time, I need to teach you how to take care of yourself. Starting with the basics.”
Of course it’s my luck that, after years of ignoring me, Mom is choosing now to all of a sudden start paying attention to me. Before I can let out a squeak of disapproval, she disappears into her room. When she reappears, she’s got some kind of kitchen appliance in her hand.
“What’s that?” Out of habit, I say it in my signature high-pitchedvoice. The only people who aren’t amused by it are my family, which is being made super apparent by the apathy in my mom’s expression. So I correct myself. “I mean, what is that thing for?”
Mom studies my face. “You really don’t know what a rice cooker is?”
“I know what a rice cooker is.”Now.Honestly Mom has been acting weird since we got to Blaire. And it’s not just the apparent undertone of disappointment that’s odd. Her behavior is off, too, like bringing a rice cooker and a giant bowl when we were told to bring only the essentials. I’ve never seen Mom use either of those things in the entirety of my existence.
“You eat a wide variety of cuisine at various restaurants, Elena. How is it that you don’t know anything about the things that you eat?”
“I think you answered your own question there. I eat at restaurants. I do not cook.”
She shakes her head, tutting in disapproval. “Is that how little you pay attention? Food is one of the basic requirements of survival.”
“I pay attention. I don’t eat at places that don’t have at least four and a half stars on Yelp.”
Mom ignores my response and shoves a carrot in my face. “Peel this.”
“Okay,” I say, grabbing it from her. Only to realize belatedly that I agreed to do something without knowing what it meant. “How do I do that?”
She gives me anotherseriously?look, handing me a knife.
“Okay, but how do I peel it? And don’t give me that look again, Mom. I’ve never had to peel anything before, and you know it.”
“Isn’t it obvious? Use the sharp edge of the knife to cut off the skin.” Her tone, though measured, has bite to it. And I’m nothing if not good at picking up on subtle cues, so I don’t ask any morequestions and start peeling the carrots while Mom is prepping the other vegetables and rinsing the rice. When she is about to open up the meat package, I hand her the carrots.
“Done,” I say, presenting the final product on the cutting board with a grand gesture.
“Oh my God.” She stares at the three carrots, open-mouthed.
“I know.” I nod in agreement. “Not bad for my first time, huh?”
“What did you do to them?”
When I notice her expression is not one of wonderment but quite the opposite, I deflate. “Well, now you’re just being critical.”
“There’s nothing left. There’s barely even enough for a crudités platter.”
“Mom, don’t be silly,” I say. “No one eats the carrots. They’re hardly the star of a crudités platter.”
“They’re supposed to be for the Japanese curry I’m making.” Her eyes narrow at me.
“Okay.How the hell was I supposed to know that?”
“Again, by using your common sense. Can’t you see the picture on the package of curry?” She holds up the box to me, and now that I see it, I get it. It’s her attitude I still don’t understand.
I’d always been aware of my parents’ general disappointment in me. But it was always from afar. That’s why my socialite status mattered so much to me. Whatever insufficiency I was feeling with Mom or Dad or Gavin, I could always count on other forms of validation. Parties held in my honor, the paparazzi yelling for my attention, paid appearances at sold-out events. It was the yin to my yang, the balance of my life. Now that we’re stuck together for the unforeseeable future, I’m not sure how I can counteract the negativity.
“So I didn’t know how to make a Japanese curry. Why is that such a big deal?” I flail my hand in frustration. It seems like nothing will be good enough for her. “Don’t you think you’re being a little hard on me?”
At first I think she’s going to lecture me about my outburst. But she surprises me by tilting her head with a saddened expression. “This is my fault.” She sets her knife down on the cutting board.
“What?” I raise a brow, half skeptical, half surprised.
“I hired the best nannies, the best cooks, the best tutors—because I didn’t want you to struggle. I made life too easy for you. Now that we’re on our own, I can see you’re not taking it well.”
“Oh my God, Mom. What happened to us is a pretty big deal. My reaction is reasonable.”
