Final Meal

[content warning: suicidal tendencies, emotional abuse]

I know I have been staring at the menu card for an awfully long time. I know the server is getting antsy, especially considering today is New Year’s Eve. But I don’t want to look up. If I do, I am sure he will see the tears I am trying to hide. The restaurant is buzzing with merriment all around me, and I don’t want to be a Grinch. That’s why I am sitting at the corner booth facing the restaurant wall, all alone.

‘Stop it, Aisha. Get a grip,’ I chided myself as the tears trickled slowly down my cheeks. There are only a few precious hours of my life left, and I don’t want to waste them by thinking about others. So, taking a deep breath, I ordered what would probably be the final meal of my life.

If the server saw the tears when I ordered the food, he did not comment. He slowly kept bringing the food and kept refilling the water and napkins, but basically, he left me alone. I was extremely thankful for that gesture. I don’t want anyone’s sympathy or kind words. I just wanted to mourn my wasted life in silence. Alone.

As the clock neared midnight, I even stopped caring about other patrons or staff and let the tears flow freely. They could judge me to their heart’s fill since I had no plans of coming back here anyway. When the final course arrived, my frozen heart shuddered a little. It is over. My life will be officially over in just one hour.

***

I always knew my parents were ashamed of me. I was an average child with no special talents or social skills. Whether it was academics or sports, I barely scraped by, unlike my brother, Ryan.

Ryan, the apple of my parents’ eyes, was a gifted child. He was always good at everything. In high school, he was the school captain and football team captain. He could even sing and play guitar fairly well. To top it off, he had a good personality. Our teachers loved him, our relatives loved him, his friends loved him, and even my friends loved him. I had a nagging suspicion that my friends stayed my friends only because of him. It was no wonder my parents loved him far more than they could ever love me. Unless necessary, they never even acknowledged my existence.

As it was bound to happen, I grew up with low self-esteem. It would have been strange not to. My parents took their job of comparing me to my brother diligently. According to them, I was the millstone tied around their neck.

They believed with all their hearts that my averageness was my fault. How could it not be? I grew up in the same household as my brother, and we both had the same set of parents. So, it was entirely my fault that I wasn’t as successful as my brother. Imagine how great their lives would be if I were half as bright as my brother.

It didn’t matter that I was a good kid. I didn’t cause them any trouble, nor did I throw any tantrums. I never asked for anything except for their acknowledgment that I was their daughter. I gave up my art because they thought it was a waste of time. I even gave up the love of my life—my childhood friend turned boyfriend who stood by me throughout my turbulent life—because they didn’t approve of him. It’s sad, I know. But the little girl inside me always wanted—and will want—her parent’s acknowledgment.

Obviously, depression was a constant friend throughout my life. I always hid in the shadows, and my parents were happy to keep me there. It would have been far easier to give up my life instead of learning every day how disappointed my parents were in their average daughter. But I didn't succumb to the dark thoughts. Not because I knew my parents loved me deep inside. I know they didn't. They made it clear a thousand times that it would be better if I wasn't there in the family picture. But because I knew my parents would have thought that their good-for-nothing daughter ruined their family name by taking her worthless life.

***

My parents mortgaged their house and borrowed money from friends and family to fund their son’s ivy league education. They were sure their son would clear the debts when he would start earning with his big job. The debt amount would be mere peanuts to him. He would even buy them a new house in a rich neighbourhood.

The son did get the big job his parents had dreamed of, but he simply forgot his parents’ debts. Instead, he bought a new house for himself. My parents couldn’t digest betrayal and fell ill. They had no choice but to touch their retirement fund to clear the mortgage and debts unless their average daughter, who was doing an average job, stepped up.

Three years ago, I moved near to my parents’ home to take care of them. I didn’t feel bad that they didn’t appreciate me even after all that had occurred. I was grateful that they had stopped commenting about my averageness, at least to my face. In their heart, they still believed their prodigal son would return and make their life rich again.

***

On the Christmas eve this year, the son returned home, but not for his parents. He wanted to use his parents’ retirement fund as the seed money for his start-up. His parents were happy to let the money go. They started boasting among their friends that their son would become the next billionaire and they would be travelling in private jets soon. I knew my brother would never look back and I would have to take care of my parents, again. I didn't mind not spending my sanity, my money and my time on myself. I had accepted my fate long ago.

But, three days ago, the last thread of hope finally broke. I heard my parents whispering how ashamed they were of me and my average life. How they couldn’t wait to go and live with their son. They thought my brother was just letting me take care of them because he didn’t want to hurt my pride. If I wasn’t in the picture like they had always hoped, they would be living with their son by now. He would have had no choice but to take them home with him.

Well, if they want me gone, I will go. Ever since this restaurant opened a few months back, I wanted to visit here, but I didn’t because I was busy saving money for my parents. Now there is no reason not to splurge. So, here I am, eating my final meal.

I have already given up my dreams and my love in a futile attempt to earn their love. Now, there is no reason left. Last three days, I did everything I always wanted but couldn’t. Except kiss my love one last time. I think it’s for the best. It would kill him if he knew what I was planning to do. I am already drowning; I don’t want him to drown with me.

***

As I ate the final bite, I sighed heavily. It was already 11.30 p.m., and I had only half an hour left. There will be a New Year for everyone except me. Strangely, I am at peace. I wave at the server to bring me the check. I want to thank him for his courtesy.

But wait, what was he bringing with the check? A new dish? I didn't order any. I look up at him in confusion.

‘Compliments from the chef,’ he says with a kind smile, and keeps a note and a cheesecake in front of me. I look at the dish, feeling low. A pity gift. Maybe the chef saw me crying and sent this. But hey, the staff had been courteous throughout, even on their busiest night, and I didn’t want to be rude by sending it back. So, I pick up the spoon and cut into the cheesecake.

As soon as the cheesecake melted in my mouth, a single tear left my eye. The tightness in my chest loosened a little. I now know why I picked this restaurant for my final meal. I now know why the ambiance felt like home. I know what is inside the note the chef has sent me without reading it. This time, the tears in my eyes were of happiness. The note was asking me to wait until the restaurant closed down.

Only one person in the entire world knew my weird fondness for mango-habanero cheesecake. Only one person made it for me time and again. Even after I left him, he was still here. For me. I happily took my second bite and sat waiting as the New Year countdown began. I had all the time in the world to live my life for myself. My frozen heart thawed a little as the cheers erupted around me. There was finally a reason for me to look forward to the New Year like everyone else.