Kusina

When Marie Lopez thinks of home, she thinks of the kitchen. She pictures the motley of pots and pans her family has collected over the years piled in the cabinet next to the oven. Over time they have been dented and stained, but her father always swears that that’s how you know they’re reliable. She also pictures the tall spice rack by the stove with her grandmother’s mortar and pestle sitting beside it. When Marie had first gotten an interest in cooking, her grandmother tasked her with helping grind up herbs and spices with it. She could still hear her grandmother singing folk tunes over a boiling pot in a language Marie hardly understood. By the window over the sink was an array of herbs her grandfather had grown himself. Her grandfather was a rice farmer in the old country, but here he fondly referred to his potted herbs as his “American farm.” The first thing Marie would wake up to in the morning was the sound of clinking in the kitchen as her mother prepared breakfast for the family and packed Marie’s lunch box for school. Once Marie returned from the school bus in the afternoon, she would always be hit with the smell of a fresh stew and rice her grandmother would prepare. Much of Marie’s life revolved around learning all she could in that small kitchen, which may not sound like much considering that she was still only ten years old. 

These days, however, the kitchen was different. In appearance, it remained much the same. The pots and pans were still there, however they have been used much less than before. Instead, more ready made meals filled the freezer awaiting their chance to be warmed in the microwave. Her grandfather’s herbs still grew on the windowsill, but were growing unruly. It has been a long while since they were picked to accompany a fresh dish. By the stove, the mortar and pestle remained untouched. It had been a year since Marie had last heard her grandmother singing in the kitchen. Her grandmother’s picture now sat on the family altar overlooking the dining table, watching over the family meals she can no longer be a part of.  When Marie got home from school, she was no longer greeted with fresh food. Instead, she was greeted with the sounds of her grandfather’s snores on the couch while her parents worked. 

After his siesta, Marie’s grandfather would check to make sure she got home safe and had started her homework. If his hands weren’t hurting too much, he would prepare dinner for the family before his son and daughter-in-law returned from work. Marie often helped her grandfather cook when she finished her homework. Sometimes when his arthritis was bad, Marie was the one who did most of the cooking while her grandfather supervised. 

“Lolo Julio,” Marie asked her grandfather while she was cooking, “how much vinegar should I put in the pot?”

Julio took a quick peek at the pot from above his crossword. “Just a little, or whatever feels right,” he responded.

Marie sighed and did her best to guess what just a little vinegar was supposed to feel like. Her grandparents were never fans of exact measurement. They always just told her to put a little of this and a splash of that. Marie would do as they said and hoped for the best. Her grandmother even kept a small notebook of recipes in the kitchen, which only listed ingredients and never instructions. Marie gave up trying to use it long ago. 

“Will this really make Mamma feel better?” Marie asked.

“What do you mean?” Julio asked his granddaughter. “It’s good food. Good food always makes us happy.”

Marie thought about this for a long moment, and decided that he must be right. 

Julio slowly got up from his chair to get a closer look at Marie’s work. “It smells good,” he said and picked up a spoon to taste the broth. “It tastes good too. Nice work, now let’s eat it all before your Pappa gets home.”

“Lolo!” Marie shouted scoldingly, although she couldn’t hold back her laughter. 

“What?” the old man asked, grinning. “You’re Pappa eats more than enough already. Look how skinny you are, you need it more.”

“But I wanted to cook this for Mamma,” Marie giggled. 

“What’s for Mamma?” A voice called out. Pia Lorenzo had just gotten home from work and heard her daughter’s laughter as she walked through the door. Her gaze shifted suspiciously between Marie and Julio.

“Maring said you weren’t feeling good, so she wanted to cook for you,” Julio told her. 

Marie’s grandmother, Irina, always said that making good food was an important part of taking care of a family. It’s why Marie got interested in cooking in the first place. She wanted to learn how to take care of her family too. So when she heard her mother complaining about her heart the other day, Marie decided it was time to make something special. 

Pia curiously walked in the kitchen to see what Marie had made. In the pot was a heavy stew consisting mainly of pork and soy sauce. 

“Wow,” Pia said slowly, unsure of what to tell Marie. “Why did you choose this dish?”

“I heard Auntie Gigi call adobo hearty, so I decided to cook it to make your heart feel better,” Marie announced proudly. 

Pia didn’t know if she wanted to laugh or cry. Although the dish Marie chose may not be good for her mother’s heart physically, it did fill Pia’s heart with joy. Pia immediately hugged her daughter. “Thank you, anak. I ate something already, but I’ll be happy to eat a little food with you.”

Just then, they heard the door open again. “Pappa’s home!” shouted Marie and she ran out of the kitchen and into her father’s arms. He promptly picked up Marie and swung her around in circles. 

“Something smells delicious,” he said, giving Marie a piggyback ride to the kitchen. “ Did you help your lolo cook?”

“It was mostly Maring cooking,” Julio insisted. “I was just there to eat and make sure the house won’t burn down. Now come sit with us or you don’t get any food.” 

“Welcome home, RJ,” said Pia. She gave her husband a kiss as he sat at the table. “Marie cooked especially for me today, so you can only have a little bit.” 

RJ dramatically put a hand over his heart with a dramatic gasp. “Marie, how could you?”

Marie only responded with a series of giggles. The good mood continued throughout dinner. Dinner was the only time that the whole family could be together, and it was the first night in a few days when they were able to eat something that wasn’t prepared out of a box or had been sitting in the freezer. The Lorenzos sat together recounting their day and telling jokes. Marie told everyone about the new friends she made at school. Julio reminisced on old stories about his children. Before dinner was over, RJ had excused himself to go to bed early. He had been suffering from a headache since he left work. That night Marie slept with a stomach full of rice and a head full of dreams.

When Marie returned from school the next day, the first thing she noticed was that her father’s car was still parked in front of the house. She wasn't used to seeing her father home so early. She found him drinking coffee on the couch while her grandfather took his usual nap. 

“Welcome home, anak,” greeted RJ when he saw Marie step in.

“When did you come back from work?” asked Marie.

“I never left. My head was still hurting so I took the day off,” replied her father. He continued to sip his coffee.

“But Mamma said you need to drink water if you’re sick,” Marie said.

RJ laughed at his daughter's sincere concern and accusatory tone. “Well then, don’t tell Mamma and go do your homework.”

Marie nodded and ran off to her room to get started on her assignments. A part of her was excited that her father was home. She thought perhaps when she finished her homework they could play a game together. Maybe today she can even convince him to buy her ice cream for passing her latest quiz. When Marie finished her homework and went back to the living room, however, RJ had gone to bed early to rest his head. 

The next day passed similarly except this time RJ had barely left his room at all. He mainly stayed in bed with a fever and Marie was not allowed to go inside and see him. Pia had called and said that she would be working overtime and told her family to eat dinner without her. That evening, Marie was helping her grandfather make a pizza with some store bought dough.

“When can Pappa come out and play with me?” Marie had asked as they flattened the dough together.

“Not tonight, he needs to rest. When he feels better again he can play with you,” said her grandfather. 

“Will you play with me then?” 

Julio sighed and had a sad look in his eye when he saw how eager Marie was. He began pouring sauce over the dough. “I can’t right now, Maring. Your old lolo is too tired today, maybe we can do something else while we wait for this pizza?”

Marie looked disappointed, even as she added the toppings. Making happy faces with the pepperoni was usually her favorite part. After some silence she finally asked, “What else can we do?”

“Your Aunt Avi sent me some new pictures in the mail. Will you help me place them in the album?”

Marie nodded, and after preparing the pizza Julio took a photo album and an envelope from a shelf. He let Marie take the pictures out of the envelope that read “To Papang Julio.” in her aunt’s neat penmanship. There were three pictures inside of her Aunt Avi’s family. One was a lovely family photo, professionally taken. The other two were pictures of Marie’s three cousins holding awards and playing together. 

Julio opened the album to a blank page near the back. “Maring, put the pictures here for me.”

Marie obediently slid the photos into the empty slots. She began to flip through the pages to see what other pictures her family had put inside. The album itself was rather new. Her parents decided to buy it after cleaning out their shed and finding a box of old photos. Since then, they managed to fill most of the album with an array of old photos and new ones. She stopped when she saw the familiar face of her grandmother smiling back at her from the page. She had less lines on her face than what Marie remembered and her grandmother was holding a baby. 

“Ah,” Julio sighed next to Marie. “That’s your Lola Irina holding your cousin Noah for the first time.” Noah was the youngest of Avi’s children. 

Marie’s eye was caught by the next picture. This one was of Lolo Julio holding a toddler and a baby on his lap. She recognized the toddler as her cousin Mila immediately, but she wasn’t sure who the baby was in the picture. “Who’s this messy baby?” Marie asked, scrunching up her nose. The baby in question looked like they were trying to squirm out of Julio’s arms and had what appeared to be red jam across their face. “They look like a lion after a meal.”

“Oh that little monster was you. I think you were trying to run away to get more food,” chuckled Julio. 

“I still do that,” Marie laughed. She began flipping through more pages. She saw pictures of the family's old rice farm on the other side of the world. There were pictures of large family meals served on banana leaves. There was even one picture of her father stuck in a mango tree. Marie got a good laugh out of that one. 

“Look right there,” Lolo Julio picked up another photo of her father that had been falling out of a page. He looked to be around six years old in it. He was smiling maniacally and holding a bowl of food. The contents of the bowl appeared to have spilled onto his face and shirt. The back of the picture had the words “Ramon Joel - Christmas Day” written on it.

“That’s where I get the messiness from!” she shouted. The big smile on her face matched her father’s smile in the picture.

“That was one of the first times RJ got really sick,” Julio explained. 

“He looks too happy to be sick,” pointed out Marie.

“Well that’s because he really liked the food we gave him. He even tried drinking it out of the bowl, which is why he got so messy. Ina was so mad at him for that.” Julio had a far away look in his eye as he reminisced. 

“Lolo Julio,” said Marie. “Did that food make Pappa really happy?”

The old man thought for a moment. “Yes, it was one of his favorite dishes growing up. It’s like that chicken noodle soup you like, except there’s rice instead of noodles.”

Marie got an idea. “Let’s make some for Pappa!”

“Oh, Maring. Maybe tomorrow we can make it for him, we still have the pizza-” he cut himself off. As he was talking Julio looked over at the kitchen counter and realized that the pizza was still sitting there instead of in the oven. Both of them stared silently at the uncooked pizza for a moment.

Marie was the first to speak up. Slowly, she asked, “Now can we make food for Pappa?”

Julio looked at the pizza then at his granddaughter and said, “Yes, I think we can.” 

About an hour later, Marie knocked on her father’s door. “Pappa, are you sleeping?” she called out.

“Well not anymore,” a muffled voice responded from behind the door.

“Lolo and I made you dinner. He said to leave the tray by the door for you.” 

Marie heard a shuffling sound behind the door. No doubt it was her father getting up to open it. However, by the time RJ Lorenzo had opened the door Marie had already scurried back to the dining table and he stood there alone. He picked up the tray on the floor and took it inside the room. There was a bowl of rice porridge on the tray along with a single small slice of pizza. As RJ sat down to eat  his phone began to ring with the name “Papang Julio” flashing on the screen. 

“Hello?” RJ asked. He was confused as to why his father was trying to video call him when they were in the same house. 

To his surprise, it was Marie on the other side of the line. RJ could faintly make out the side of his father’s head next to Marie on the screen. “Hi Pappa,” Marie said merrily. “Lolo said I can video call you so we can eat dinner together.” Julio was waving his arm behind Marie’s head in greeting. 

RJ was not the kind of man to get emotional, but he felt tears sting his eyes when he answered that call. “Wow, thank you anak. Thank you Papang. Did you guys cook this for me?”

Marie nodded enthusiastically. “Lolo said that Lola Irina used to make this for you whenever you were sick. Have you tried it yet?”

RJ looked down at his bowl. He was probably a teenager the last time his mother made this for him when he had a cold. He took a spoonful into his mouth, Marie looked on expectantly from the screen. 

“Does it taste like the one Lola Irina used to make you?” asked Marie.

“It tastes exactly like it.”