The Dinner

George walked through the front door of the restored, three story mansion. He looked around in satisfaction, the entryway was open and airy, finished with deep red oak, not just the floors, the walls and the staircase as well. He’d spent over a million dollars refurbishing and modernizing Fiona’s great-grandfather's masterpiece. He hung his knee length overcoat in the closet and slipped his shoes off and slid them to the side. The house was quiet. He frowned, Fiona wasn’t home. George growled under his breath, he had told her that she should be home to greet him every evening without fail. It didn’t matter that he was home two hours early today she should be here to greet him. He walked stiffly into the kitchen, at least she had a sandwich in the fridge for him. He took the sandwich and a bottle of microbrew up to his study. He sat at his large desk where he could see the entire front drive. He halfheartedly worked on some proposals for the company's newest clients. George stood abruptly, Fiona had just driven onto the property and around to the back of the house, he set his empty bottle on the top of his dirty plate and thudded down the stairs. He was waiting for her when she entered the kitchen.

“I got home, you weren’t here!”

“I don't get off work until 4pm you normally don’t get home until 6 or later.”

George took a step towards her and stated through gritted teeth “you weren’t here when I got home.” Fiona opened her mouth to defend herself. George grabbed her upper arms tightly, stopping her mid-stride. He bent down until his face was inches from hers. “Get the dirty dishes out of my office and have a steak dinner for six ready before seven tonight. There is a hijab on the bed, put it on and go to the halal market on 17th street and purchase the needed food for tonight.” Fiona shook herself away from him and headed to the stairs. “One more thing, if there isn’t enough left in the generous food and entertainment budget I give you, you will cover it from your account.”

Fiona sighed and went up the stairs to their room. There was a box on the bed when she opened it she found a long piece of soft grey cloth, complete with instructions on how to wrap and wear it. George had been talking about the wives and daughters of his new clients and what they wore, how it made them look more gentle and compliant. Anger flared in Fiona, “What has gotten into you George?” she asked half aloud to the empty room. She changed out of her work clothes, throwing her black heels into the closet and tossing her grey slacks and pale yellow blouse over a chair. She dressed with jerky movements into jeans and a light green polo shirt with tennis shoes. Fiona scowled at herself in the mirror, her freckles dominating on her flushed countenance. She splashed cold water on her face, then ran a comb through her straight, red hair, fastening it off her neck in a low ponytail that reached to between her shoulder blades. George used to like her hair down or at least partially, “You look wild and untamed”, he used to say laughing. “It seems that phrase has a new meaning now” she said coolly. She left the hijab on the bed and returned downstairs.

“Hey,” George stepped between Fiona and the back door, “where’s your head covering?!”

“It’s not cold enough for a scarf, I don’t need it.” she tried to brush past him. He grabbed her arm and yanked her around to face him.

“You will get it and put it on before you go to that market, you won’t be able to buy what we need for supper if you are not wearing it”

“You’re telling me that they won’t wait on me if I am not wearing that scarf?”

“They might not, it’s called a hijab, and should have put it on just because I told you too.”

“George, what has gotten into you, you used to treat me with respect and like a partner, we were going to ‘take on’ life together, I don’t know you anymore, it’s like you have a brain tumor or something.”

George sighed loudly, and rolled his eyes “I don’t have a brain tumor, I have just come to realize that I am the Head of this house and you are subordinate to me, therefore you need to do as you are told without question. I have tolerated too much from you already.”

Fiona stared up at him with her mouth hanging open, and eyes wide with shock. “W-w-what are you talking about?”

George sighed again and stated evenly “just go get the head covering and wear it, get the things we need for supper, we will talk about it later.”

Fiona stood in front of her full length mirror with the cloth in one shaking hand and the instructions in the other, after two tries she turned her back to the mirror and looked only at the instructions. “Maybe I should look for a you-tube” she said as she wrapped it again, this time it didn’t fall off or feel like it was choking her. “Okay, now to get to the market I am going to have less than an hour to cook if I don’t hurry.”

At the market, Fiona looked around. There were bins of fresh vegetables in two rows down the center of the large room. The wall to her right was lined with refrigerator cases and the opposite wall was filled with freezer cases. She looked for a cart and noticed no one had a cart, some of the women had baskets hanging from one arm. Most of the shoppers were women, but several of them seemed to have men with them, some were obviously bodyguards with holstered guns.

“Fiona, I haven’t seen you in a long time. How are you?”. Fiona looked up to see, Gloria, the wife of one of George’s associates walking towards her, she was wearing a blue hijab similar to the one Fiona had on.

“I think I’m ok. I haven’t been here before but George insisted that I get everything for a steak dinner for six, here.”

“I like coming here. Most people are friendly and the unfriendly ones are tolerant if you're wearing a head covering. Yours is pretty, where did you get it?”

“George brought it home for me, it took a while to get it to lay right.”

“James helped me figure it out, after the first time I came here without one and was shunned and finally I was informed in no uncertain terms that women must have their heads covered when in the presence of an unrelated male. The food is very high quality, the meat is very tender, and you can get goat and lamb as well as beef and chicken. You said you needed steak?”

“Yes, he said I needed to get everything we needed for a steak dinner for six, and it had to be ready to serve at seven. He was so irritable that I forgot to ask him what sides or even what type of steak.”

“Do you know who you have coming over?”

“All I know is that they are new clients of the company and he wants everything to be perfect.”

“My guess is that it is Ghasemi and Mahan, they own a real estate company and need new advertising. James had them over but he passed on the account.” Gloria steered her friend towards the back counter to the line in front of a friendly looking, dark haired, olive skinned young man in a black pants and a starched, white, button down shirt, with the market logo above the left breast pocket. “Leon can help you. He knows them or at least the kinds of foods they like. He helped me a couple of weeks ago when we had them over.”

“Why would James pass on the account?”

“Mr. Cyrus Ghasemi was very rude to me and told James that he needed to ‘keep me in my place’. He and his partner Kamram Mahan have been golfing with George and James before.” The three women in front of them left together and Gloria and Fiona stepped up to the counter. “Leon, can you help us out? Fiona is entertaining Ghasemi and Mahan tonight and her husband requested a steak dinner for six.” The young man nodded, I know them both and their wives shop here. I think I can help. They tend to order scalloped potatoes and asparagus as well as salad with their steaks.”

“What type of steak do they like?”

Leon looked thoughtful, “I would recommend the sirloin with mushroom sauce.”

“I don’t have a lot of time to cook, around an hour at the most.”

Leon smiled, “Not a problem. I can give you the whole meal in disposable trays and all you have to do is heat them in the oven for 30 minutes and plate them.“

“Sounds awesome, I’ll take it.”

Leon rang up the total, “any salad dressing?”

“I have several different kinds already, um some creamy italian and poppy seed should do it. Thank you”

“That will be $567.23.” Fiona tried not to look surprised, but her hand shook a little when she ran her debit card through the machine. “I can have someone carry it out for you if you like.”

“That would be great, thank you.” Fiona turned to Gloria, “Thank you for helping me out, We should meet for lunch sometime next week.”

“I’ll email you tomorrow. Good luck.”

As she drove home Fiona wondered what George would say about the price of the dinner. She know that he would sometimes spend more than that on a day of entertaining, but he had a business account for that, she didn’t have access to that account and used their household account for all of it, even though there was only $476 left in the budget for food for the rest of the month. She could hear the shower on the second floor running when she entered the kitchen. She put the food in the oven and went into the formal dining room to set the table. She smiled as she looked at the table, the good china was stacked neatly on one end and the silverware that had belonged to her great-grandparents was also on the table. At least George was showing some interest in helping set up the meal. She pulled placemats to match the tablecloth out of the drawer and quickly laid out place settings three on one side of the table one at the head, for George, and two on the other side of the table. She checked the food in the oven then went upstairs to shower. George was pulling on dark grey pants when she entered the room.

“Wear your dress that matches this shirt.” George indicated the medium blue shirt he had laid out on the bed.”

“Ok.” Fiona shrugged, “no how did it go at the market, or even who is coming to supper. Just wear this dress.” Fiona mumbled to herself as she stepped into the shower.

Fiona was taking the hot, delicious food from the oven when the doorbell rang.

“Get the door.” George’s command came from the dining room. He walked up behind her as she opened the door to greet their guests. “Welcome to my home, Mr. Ghasmi, and Mr. Mahan, my wife will take your jackets if you like.”

“Please call me Cyrus” said the taller man, they both were dark complected with short black hair.

“Kamran, thank you.” The shorter man looked relaxed and almost jovial next to Cyrus.

Fiona took the jackets she was handed and hung them in the entryway closet, inwardly fuming at George’s tone when he said “my home” and his failure to properly introduce her. It was going to be an interesting evening. George and the men headed into the living room, the two women with them stood by Fiona until the men were around the corner.

“I’m Fiona Hamilton, it’s nice to meet you.”

“I’m Jasmine Ghasemi, and this is Esther Mahan, we are happy to be here”

“Let’s go to the kitchen” said Esther, “where is your Hijab? Cyrus will be upset that you are not wearing it.”

“I left it in the car, How did. .?” Fiona took in the full appearance of the two women, and smiled. “You were in line in front of me at the market, That’s how Leon knew exactly what I wanted for dinner!” Fiona laughed, Esther chuckled and Jasmine smiled. Fiona relaxed somewhat, and led the way to the kitchen. Fiona made it through dinner with a little cultural coaching from her guests. There were some icy looks from Cyrus and some uncomfortable silences from Kamran when Fiona tried to join the conversation. Cyrus had redirected the seating so that he and Kamran were seated on either side of George, with their wives next to them and Fiona on the end next to Esther.

After the guests left Fiona went to clean up in the kitchen, but George didn’t join her, after running the sink full of water, collecting all the dishes and throwing the table cloth in the washer she went to look for him. When she didn’t find him in the living room or study she called up the stairs. “George, are you coming to help with the dishes?”

“No, I’m getting ready for bed, don’t be too long.”

Fiona shook her head, and then hurriedly washed the dishes, there were no leftovers to speak of so she just threw the foil pans away and tied up the trash to take out in the morning. About forty-five minutes later she went up stairs. George was laying in the middle of the bed propped up on the headboard with his ankles crossed flipping through channels on the TV. “that took a while”

Fiona stared at him, “why are you acting this way? We have always cleaned up together after having company, and what’s with the icy tone, what is wrong with you?”

George sat up and swung his feet to the floor, and stood facing her, glaring. “Nothing is wrong with me, Except that I have let you run over me for three years or more, house work is the woman’s job, and what do you mean by paying for dinner with the house account?! I told you to use yours.”

“It was a shared dinner, one that you can either get reimbursed for or deduct as a business expense, why would I use my personal account instead of the joint one.”

George took a step towards Fiona and raised his hand, as if to slap her, “Because I told you to.”

Fiona stepped out of his way, apprehension growing, “Seriously, George you are acting like you have a brain tumor or something, we should really get you to a doctor.”

George closed the distance between them, grabbed her arms and threw her onto the bed, then himself on top of her. As he tried to kiss her, she pushed him away, “stop”

“I am your husband, you can’t tell me NO ever again.” He caught her around the waist as she tried to get off the bed.

Fiona screamed, George slapped her hard across the face, Fiona stared at this stranger in her bed, for the first time in the five years she’d known him and the three years they’d been married, Fiona was truly afraid. George stared back startled like he just realized what he had done. “I don’t have a brain tumor, I've just been talking with Cyrus and Kamran about the roles of husband’s and wives, perhaps you should sleep in a different room until we get it sorted out.” he said evenly.

Fiona grabbed a few clothes, two keys from the top drawer of the dresser and ran all the way to the top floor to the nanny apartment they put in when they remodeled. She locked the door behind her and sat on the bed shaking. She was thankful that she never got around to putting George’s name on the house, she loved him. She always promised herself that she wouldn’t tolerate abuse, she loved him. She was totally exhausted, drained. She loved him. She would decide what to do in the morning.