Six: Not much of a cook

"Ugh! I can't do this! The meat is so smelly and bloody".

My mother planted her hands on her hips and glared at me. "Oh don't be silly Farrah. Now wash the meat the same way I showed you".

"It's smelly mum! And utterly bloody! If I keep touching then, I'll get blood and dirt under my nails, and I just had them done yesterday!".

My mother rolled her eyes, and walked over to the windowsill, before opening the windows to let the fresh morning breeze in, and maybe flush out the stench from the meat.

"Farrah, do you want to save your marriage or not?".

"I do, but I don't want to get my hands dirty. Really mother, don't make me wash those bloody things". I say, before washing my hands with soap.

"You're so impossible. How will you learn how to cook if you can't wash simple meat?".

"There's nothing simple about bloody stinking meat".

She sighs. "Wash the meat Farrah. The hot water I poured on it has washed most of the blood away."

"No can't do. Maybe I should just go home and sign the divorce papers".

"I didn't know you to be a quitter Farrah".

"Then you never really knew me at all. I'm serious mother. I'm not doing this. I love being married, but if it costs me doing things that are almost impossible, I'd rather remain single".

"I won't tolerate such words in my house. Now get your arse up, and wash that meat".

"Can I at least get some gloves?".

"No! You will wash them with your bare hands. Now start washing!".

And that's how my morning begun. Washing bloody meat.

*******

"I can't do this!", I yell for the thousandth time today. I haven't been able to do anything right. The meat that's now cooking on fire was poorly washed, and the vegetables she assigned to me to chop aren't as crystal perfect as hers. It's still a wonder how I haven't even hurt my finger!

My mother is seated on a dining chair, her phone in her hand, and currently in Instagram. Oh so she's allowed to go through social media and I'm not? What a cruel world!

She drops her phone and stares at me. Oh I know I look like a mess. I've got carrots in my hair, and I don't even know how those got there. My apron pockets might have a few tomato cubes, and oh well I think there's a strip of cabbage in my crocs. I'm a terrible chef I know.

"You can't get it right in one day Farrah".

"Well fuck me because I don't think I would ever get it right".

"Now, now that mindset will get you nowhere in my life. If you want to be successful, the first step is building a positive mindset".

"I appreciate your motivational talk and all, but it's really not helping. And I think father will find this horrendous. Ooh, I can just see it on the news. Lady Lewry, wife of the world's youngest billionaire, learning how to cook. Oh yeah, now that will make the headlines".

"Oh stop being so negative Farrah. It's not your fault you didn't learn when you were younger".

I eyed her. "Are you implying I'm old?".

"Do you want to be?", she shot back.

"Of course not. I have not even lived my life".

"You will never, if you don't learn how to cook".

"Cooking is not for me mother. And it's much easier to scroll through reels on social media that wash meat, or...or even chop veggies".

"Now you're exaggerating. These things take time".

"And I don't have time mother! Don't you understand?"

She narrowed her eyes at me. "Now you lower your voice, or I'll have you thrown out ".

"You wouldn't dare".

"Try me".

"I'll pass up on the offer thank you very much. Cooking doesn't have to be the first step. There has to be other things. Oh yes serving! You can teach me how to serve or even bake!".

My mother rose a brow. "How do you expect to bake if you can't even cook?"

"Oh it can't be that hard! I mean isn't baking all about flour and dough?".

My mother frowned. "Seems to me that you really don't know a thing about baking. But I could teach you how to serve. But first, you'd have to look the part. Now go into the guest room and have a shower. Maria will bring you clothes".

Sometime later, I go into the kitchen wearing black pants and a white shirt. The clothing feels so formal. I don't like it, but I'd have to put my dislikes aside, if I want this thing to work out.

The kitchen is sparkling and mother is seated at the dining. She gets up when she sees me.

"Very professional".

I scowl. "So what am I doing next?".

"Learning. First, start with placemats. Next, gather the necessary dishes, glasses and silverware. For the basic setting, you'll need a dinner plate, dinner fork, dinner knife and water glass. Arrange each item properly. In the center of the placemat, set up your dinner plate. Fold your napkin and place it directly to the left of the plate with the dinner fork on top. Place your dinner knife to the right of the plate, sharp edge facing towards the plate. Finally place the water glass above the plate slightly to the right. Do the same thing to the wine glass.

I do as she said. "So? Did I do well?".

She nods and I laugh. "Maybe serving is my thing".

"Oh don't get ahead of yourself Farrah. You haven't even served yet".

"Really?".

She nods. "All you did now was set the table".

"Dang it. Just when I thought I was getting good at this".

"Ladle some food into a bowl and place it in the middle of the table. And when you want to serve, start from the left. And if you want to clear the table, begin from the right".

I nodded and obeyed her instructions. I step back, staring at the table I set, a proud smile on my lips.

"So how did I do?".

"Great. Do it again, so you become perfect at it".

*****

I went home a happy woman. Not only do I know how to set the tables and serve all kind of food, I can now wash meat properly, and chop vegetables nicely, without getting any in my hair or shoes. My happy mood turned sour however the moment I stepped into the dining room. Kian is seated at the head of the table, browsing through his phone. But that's not what has me seething. The maid, I recognize her as the chief maid's daughter Caitlyn, has set the table, and has began to serve. She's leaning over Kian, her boobs in his face. She's got two buttons undone, and if Kian were to turn, his lips would be at her breasts.

Furious, I marched over to the lousy maid and seized the ladle and bowl from her.

She stares at me surprised. "My lady!".

"Get out".

"But my lady, I have not finished serving dinner".

"Don't worry. I'll take it up from here. Turning back to the table, I continue serving. Kian looks up to me, a smile on is face, a glint of amusement in his eyes.

"Is this your first step?".

"No. It's a part of it though".

I put the serving spoon and bowl away, and take my seat next to Kian. "I liked it when you were jealous back then".

I glared at him. "She had her boobs in your face Kian! Her boobs! And just so you know I'm the only one who gets to put her boobs in your face."

"Poor Caitlyn was just doing her job Farrah. It's not her fault she couldn't serve without standing on her tiptoes.

She was serving over your head Kian! If you knew her boobs were in your face, why didn't you tell her to stop?".

"So I shouldn't be served dinner?".

"You shouldn't have her boobs in your face!".

"If you keep yelling like that, you're gonna get sick".

I don't feel like eating anymore. How can Kian act like having another woman's boobs in his face is not big deal? I scraped my chair against the marble floor and rose to my feet.

Kian looks to me. "Where are you going?".

"To bed".

"On an empty stomach?"

"Don't act like you care. You can as well ask Caitlyn to join you because I have lost any appetite for food".

And even as I walked to my room, I feared in my heart that he might do just that.