The Last Meal

TW: domestic abuse

The Last Meal

It’s that time of the day, the time of the day Seema dreaded the most. She had to get the dinner ready, cooking in her spacious kitchen with a wide window overlooking the beautiful garden, the surrounding did nothing to uplift her mood, cooking only brought her fear and pain. I hope, he likes today’s dinner, a silent prayer she uttered.

“I can’t cook”,” I’m not a good cook”, “I can’t follow recipes”, “it always turns out rubbish anyways” “I’m no good”, “no one likes me”, “It’s all my fault” her self-talk, replaying non-stop in her subconscious mind. Statements she adopted to protect her bruised self-respect, a vain attempt so the negative and harsh words would hurt a little less and feel appropriate and well deserved.

All her childhood, Seema had seen her mother spend the majority part of her day in the kitchen cooking and serving hot meals, meals that she enjoyed and relished. Mama, you cook so well, why don’t you start your own restaurant, asked Seema? No, my dear, that is not for me, I enjoy preparing meals for my family and I enjoy cooking for you all”, said, her mother. But that was not going to be her future, I’m not going to limit myself in the four walls of the kitchen, I’m going to be the best world-renowned chef, Mama, you will watch me one day on TV Master Cook Singapore, she grinned. That is all she wanted to be, an awesome cook, just like her mother, and enjoy cooking above all.

But little did Seema know, there would come a time in her life when she would be judged and ridiculed for her style of cooking. Cooking was no more something she enjoyed, the past 5 years in marriage had programmed her to believe she was a horrible cook and her food was below standard.

“What’s wrong with you”, he said, can’t you fix one proper meal a day, I work hard the whole day, to come back home and eat this crap of shit you call food? What have you been doing the whole day? Spending time watching crap on TV or chatting on WhatsApp? “Leave your phone on my desk”, “you are grounded”, “you don’t deserve a phone or laptop or even to sit and watch TV, I shouldn’t catch you watching TV for the next one week”, he said.

 “You make me discipline you, this is the only way to teach you”, you make me do this, you ungrateful, ugly, fat, bitch”. What’s with your long face, can’t a husband comment on his wife’s cooking? Can’t you apologize for cooking an awful dinner and learn how to cook a proper meal? Just one meal a day is too much to ask.

You should be grateful I ate the food, there are husbands who throw the food on their wives face and won’t eat at home.

I’m sorry, she said, I followed the recipe, I tried to cook well, I’m not sure what went wrong.

So, why the long face, he said, you can’t take criticism? Who are you? Queen, some famous chef, no one can comment on your food.

“No, no”, she said, I am just sad, because, I worked hard but the food did not turn out well. “There you go again, he said, with your lame excuses, justifying your awful food”, Lower your voice, you Bitch, how dare you raise your voice, I will pick up my slipper and hit you. You don’t deserve to live in my house, don’t make me angry, or else I will throw you out of MY house. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry”, she said, I will prepare something nice tomorrow. Sorry, dinner was poorly made today, and you still had to eat it.

Washing the dirty dishes, she felt her whole body ache with pain from head to toe, did he hit me, no he didn’t she reminded herself, but then why was she in so much pain, the pain in her heart had passed to her actually feeling physical pain. Her mind repeated the statement “I will throw you out”. She had heard this so many times, day and night over the past 5 years, that now even she believed she was nothing but a bag of garbage destined to be thrown out, either at sunrise or at sunset she would eventually be thrown out.

The alarm bell screeching and waking her, it is 5am, time to go to the wet market, or else all the fresh produce will be sold out for the day.

The restaurant was buzzing with diners and the long queue outside waiting for a table, suddenly the kitchen door opens and the waiter announces, “Request to meet the Chef” by Mr. Smith Johnson” OMG the one and only Mr. Smith Johnson? Seema, asked in surprise? Yes, Head Chef Ms. Seema, it is the one and only Mr. Smith Johnson, he is seated at table no.24 and is eager to meet you.

This was a dream come true for Seema, she inhales deeply and walks out of the kitchen to meet the one and only, acclaimed food critic Mr. Smith Johnson.

As Seema bid goodbye to Mr. Smith Johnson, every single cell in her body brimming with joy, to her shock at the corner of the restaurant, she noticed him seated at the table with his new family. Their eyes meet and a chill runs down her spine, as she walks past his table, she remembered the last meal she prepared at his house and the excruciating pain that made her body go numb. That last meal was both poisonous and pure at the same time, for it had killed the old Seema and gave birth to the new Seema who wouldn’t take any more insults, 10years ago she walked out of his house that night to regain her lost dignity, pride, and dream.

Now, walking past, glancing at her photos displayed on the walls of the restaurant, Seema finds herself standing tall next to famous personalities who recognized her talent. She felt alive and confident, she felt proud of her decision to leave his house that night, not knowing what greatness awaited her. Her first bold step led to many other bold steps, she had learned to believe in herself again and her talent. The day she took control of her life in her own hands, nothing was impossible, nothing stopped her to make her dream come true. She recollected the day, her mother cried tears of joy on her being selected as one of the top 10 contestants in Master Cook Singapore and that made every hardship and trial of the past years disappear and every new dream worth putting up a fight for.

The guests at the restaurant ran towards her for photos, and she obliged with a smile. Ms. Seema, they asked, “please tell us, what’s your secret ingredient to success? She paused and said, “My Self- Talk and Incantations, “I can cook”, “I’m a good cook”, “I create and follow my recipes”, “Anything, I cook, turns out as an awesome dish” “Everyone Loves me” I’m absolutely Awesome”!