Family Dinner

It’s Friday evening. I’ve left work a little early to make it to dinner with my family in the South Bay. It’s a bit of a drive, in particular during rush hour. My mom has prepared several courses of food, an appetizer, a salad, a main dish, and a dessert. The dining room table is immaculately set with several plates and bowls and utensils to match the four courses. The plates are white and delicate, with floral looking wavy edges. China, as my mom calls it. They’re placed on round woven place settings. Next to the place settings are cloth napkins, in napkins rings. And several glasses to drink out of. Mine have water in it, and white wine. I don’t like wine, and am probably not going to drink much of it, but my mom has insisted. It is a fancy wine and there are fresh flowers on the table. The whole effect is rather pretty.

My brother, Thorin, is here too, talking to my dad, as I help my mom bring in the first course. Thorin, who is three years older than me, is the chief technical officer at a tech startup. It’s been going for a few years and they are close to an IPO, which is the event where you make a lot of money. “How did things go with the code audit?”, my dad asks Thorin. Thorin beams. “We passed with flying colors”, he says. “They even said that we’ve done the best they’ve seen this year.” “That’s quite the compliment”, my father adds, to the room, as if to make sure we’re all tracking what’s happening. My dad used to be a software engineer, just like Thorin. But now he’s retired. My mom smiles proudly. “I knew you could do it honey”, she says to Thorin. “You’ve just always been so bright.” 

The appetizers, a type of bruschetta with goat cheese, herbs, mushrooms and balsamic glaze, taste almost as good as they look. I fold the white cloth napkin in my lap before taking a bite. “Guten Appetit”, my mother tells the table. “Guten Appetit”, we all echo in turn. “Thank you for the food dear”, my dad adds. “It looks wonderful.” My parents keep asking Thorin questions about his startup all the way through the salad course. 

My dad pours everyone more wine while my mom and I serve the main course, a beef ragout with handmade pasta. My mom buys the pasta at a local Italian grocery. I sip my wine, in an automatic response to having my glass topped off. It is on the dry side and feels like it will give me a headache. I usually get headaches from drinking wine. “How are things with Eleanor?” my mom asks Thorin. “I hope she can make it to the next family dinner.” Eleanor is Thorin’s long-term girlfriend. Except that everyone but my mom calls her Nora. “Nora’s good”, Thorin replies. “She’s sorry she couldn’t make it today. Her paper is due next week and she had some last minute writing to do.” 

I make it all the way through the main course before the questioning turns to me. “How is your work Leia?” my mom asks me. I take a deep breath. Always with the questions. “It’s alright.” It’s not really alright. I don’t exactly know what it is. Disappointing, maybe. Depressing. A daily confrontation with how much people suffer in the most mundane ways and how little I can do about it. A daily dose of tiny failures, lining up as a string of demoralizing heartbreak. “And how is your friend Sarah?” my mom continues. Can’t leave well enough alone. “She’s good” I mumble. “Is she still with her boyfriend Nate?” I nod, staring at my plate. 

The desert course, a tiramisu, is another piece of art. Somehow my mom gets the chocolate dusting just so. I wonder if there are special tools involved. “Everything was wonderful Tina”, my dad exclaims. Thorin and I nod dutifully. I nibble my tiramisu. The biscuits are soaked in coffee and I don’t really want to be up all night. Conversation around me continues, but I’ve stopped listening. Their voices blend with the quietly tasteful music my mom is playing in the background. Jazz, maybe. I let myself sink into the ambience of it all. My dad and Thorin have clearly moved back to talking about his startup. I don’t have to listen to know, I can tell from their body language. My mom and I start clearing the dishes. I’m feeling tired and I’m not looking forward to the long drive home.