My Mother's Boyfriend

Dinner With The Patels

Alejandro

As expected, we are invited in as if we are wolves entering a chicken coop. And an assault on my nose as soon as the front door was opened. Many different aromas hit me all at once. They’re cooking up a storm in there.

I get the chillis, curry and that’s it. Everything else is lost on me.

Maya’s grandparents greeted us with unkind eyes as we stepped inside. They do not return Maya’s warm but reserved greeting to them.

Maya’s brother, Anthony, grins shyly at me as he hugs his sister and I wave at the little boy. Since our last meeting, I have come to like him a bit. It must be the fierce love I see between the siblings because when Uma first told me about him, I had no love for him.

The old bat and her husband give us both the stink eye, and Maya is given the ‘up and down’ and, full of disgust stare, by her grandmother. Reaching forward because I am standing behind Maya, I put my hand around her tiny waist as a way of support, to her. See, this is why I had to tire myself out. We had just arrived and the old hag had started to step on my nerves.

Venom fills the older woman’s eyes to where my fingers are protruding at the front of Maya’s beautiful long flowing blue dress and the girl bends her head as if ashamed. Why does Maya not understand her grandmother is just bitter?

Her brother tugged on her hand excitedly, pulling her towards the dining area, to show off what was being served for dinner. I hear her shriek of almost wonderment, “Pakora?” Some seconds of silence, while the old hag eyes me then, “Tamarind sauce?”

Russell Patel is in the kitchen. I know this without seeing the man, for I can hear heavy dishes being placed on the table. I wonder if he would appreciate it if I assisted him with bringing the dishes to the dinner table. Common sense prevailed- I think he would rather me keep my hands to myself.

For now, Russell, I vowed, my jaw clenching tightly.

A few days ago, I had called him and instructed him that his daughter and I were coming over for dinner and to choose any night this week. I also instructed a full dinner be prepared that his daughter would enjoy and to speak to her as if he missed her.

He seemed to be complying.

While I am certain he did love her, my directions were for this wrinkled, disrespectful fowl in front of us. I do not think Russell is to blame here for her imprudent behaviour towards her granddaughter. I think this woman is just mean and bitter. Perhaps because she is no longer young and beautiful, like most bitter women who are closer to the ticking clock of death.

Following behind Maya and her brother, Maya explains to me that pakora, is a vegetable dish. An incredibly addictive snack made up of fried potatoes, veggies, and turmeric. Mirchi (green chilli pepper) to make a crispy snack that is her favourite.

While she spoke, her eyes shone. She must truly miss her traditional home cooking. I suspected as much, which is why I put in the extra effort to ensure tonight was memorable for Maya.

This pleases me. It shows that Russell put in an effort tonight for his daughter.

“Dadi-ma made it,” Anthony says gleefully, his hands on the back of a chair as he looks up at his sister and Maya bends her head when the woman walks in at the same time.

“Thank you, Dadi-”

The woman huffs and twists her head, which is such an unseeingly sight for someone of her age, thus causing Maya to not finish her grateful words.

Standing near Maya, I raise it to lift her chin. “Do not bow your head, mi corazón,” I whisper to her before I kiss the side of her temple.

Anthony giggles. “Maya says that means, my heart.”

Winking and grinning down at the lad, I say, “Si, also sweetheart.”

“Si means yes,” he proudly states, and I ruffle his hair, walking towards the kitchen and taking Maya along with me, holding her hand. Man to man, I must meet Russell now as he is the head of the house, and I should have done so as soon as we arrived had it not been for the grandparents. I would have preferred to just sit, eat, leave. In that order.

“Ah, Russell-” I begin to greet the man, who is still in an apron- peach in colour but wearing semi-formal clothing beneath. I ended up coughing, when the high smell of something spicy almost choked me, into my handkerchief.

That had to be pepper.

Russell fans the air between us, by swiping his right hand up once and then down, then gives me a blank, unblinking stare. Ho-ho, he’s mocking me.

No, pepper would have made me sneeze, not cough.

“Papa, she’s here, she’s here!” Anthony runs in quickly, grabbing his father’s waist, in a hug. I used to be the same way with my own father. But Patel is not a good husband, he is a cruel sadistic man.

I am aware of the irony coming from me.

Russell gives the boy a tight-lipped smile and replies. “Yes, I can see that. What did we say about shouting Tony?”

It was definitely pepper. I wipe the tears from my eyes with the same handkerchief then push it into my trouser pocket, feeling a burning in my chest but ignoring it.

“To not do it.” The boy’s booming voice is hushed now. Normally, I would be on Russell’s side. I loathed loud children, but I understood the boy was jubilant about seeing his sister after so long, so I was not annoyed much by it.

“Maya, baby-” Russell Patel greets his daughter, and she rushes towards him in tears.

Maya had gone through phases in the past two days when I told her we had been invited to her former home. Her eyes brightened in the first minute or so then it dulled, and she refused to go.

But I did not cancel on the Patels.

Then she cried herself to sleep. I could not comfort her, but I figured if she wanted my shoulder or chest to lean on, she would turn to me. She had not. Then by mid-afternoon the next day, she was all for it.

Today, she wore brown flats on her feet with a simple blue floral dress- I must remember to get rid of it. Her hair was up in one of those fancy buns and simple studded earrings that matched the dress. No jewellery except for a simple gold watch on the left wrist.

Meanwhile, I feel like a giant here. I am well over six feet and topping everyone here. Including Russell, who stands at maybe five feet, ten inches. Maya is a tiny woman herself. The older Patels have shrunken in height, maybe with age but are about their son’s height as well.

My weight is ninety-three kilos. I am pure muscle and intimidating to all besides this shrivelled old sack that Maya calls, ‘dadi-ma’. ‘Dadi-ma' contorts her already twisted ugly f*cked facial expression at the sight of father and daughter embracing.

Why is she so against her granddaughter?

“Oh, this will be a while,” Anthony grumbles playfully and grabs my hand, leading the way- a few footsteps, to the countertop where he picks up two bowls, twisting his head to show me to do the same.

Okay, so I am setting the table. Cool. The innocence of the little ones. Hmm.

A few trips later, we are set.

My chest burns more.

More than five minutes into the meal, nobody has spoken a word, so I say, “Dadi-ma,” to which everyone stops chewing and looks up at me. Gawking. Some with food in their hand still- just Russel and Anthony. We are eating with our hands, and I am again irritated so I decide to cheer myself up.

Again, venom shoots through her old cataract-looking eyes which widens when I finish my sentence. “No meat?”

Then all turn to Maya as if she is to blame for my ‘careless’ words.

“No meat,” the grandmother hisses out, her thin lines lips in an ‘n-shape’. “Have you no manners? Maya teaches you nothing about decency? See Russell, for the shame she has brought home to us.”

Wait, I am ‘shame’?

“Sometimes we eat meat, but not home here, bleh,” the little boy informs me in a low tone, one curried potato messed up hand shielding his mouth on one side of his face. “See papa also cooked without chillis for you.” The boy is so little, yet he is trying to ease of tension.

I am so confused. Uma gave me the impression that the men are usually more dominant in their culture, but the old man has not spoken since we arrived. And Russell is quiet as well while his mother is mouthing off.

Maya and Anthony act like humbled children and chew their food slowly, not watching the ‘adults talking’ but yet paying attention to what is being said.

“Mrs Patel to you,” the old woman again hisses out then shoves her hand into her mouth to distribute the food down her throat. I am having a difficult time with this part, and I am starving. How do they do that without making a mess around their mouths?

I like the flatbread, er, paratha roti. It’s butter-soft, almost melting in my mouth, but how to scoop up vegetables together with it using my hand only? I need a spoon here.

“Classic shrimp cocktail roasted prime rib, grilled chicken americana, and beef steak are some of the foods I eat and enjoy, Mrs Patel. Perhaps next time you can prepare it?” Making another failed attempt to put food in my mouth, I added in a huffed breath, “With spoons, forks and knives, si?”

Left hand on my lap, my right wrist resting on the edge of the table, fingers hanging over my plate, I simply arch one eyebrow. “Fresh salad too since you seem to be big on it,” I add just to irk her. “Olive oil, vinegar, pinch of salt to that too, hmm?”

“Beef? It’s disrespectful of you to enter my house and say this,” Russell finally speaks to me. “Maya has not spoken to you of our-”

“That little devil brings her uncivilised white pati (husband) in here, to talk about eating our sacred cows!” The old man is shouting now. Huh.

Anthony’s eyes bulge as he exchanges glances with me and then his sister. The little boy seems scared. Whether this is normal behaviour for the older folks or this hardly happens at all, the boy ducks beneath the tablecloth.

“Um, we avoid eating beef because cows are traditionally viewed as sacred to us. We never eat it because the animals are very meritorious in human life.” Maya’s meek tone irritates me.

What a stupid thing to say or even believe in. Then we should stop consuming goats and sheep as well. Why stop there? Add plants to the list too, because we get oxygen from trees as well as fruits and vegetables.

However, I do not say this out loud, but I now also understand why Maya refused to allow me to kiss her that drunken night. I had consumed the steak she had refused to eat.

Cow’s flesh.