ON WEDNESDAY WE EAT MEATLOAF
She was watching the kitchen faucet’s muted drip when he called. She let the phone ring once, twice, and then silence. It was his way of letting her know that she had thirty-seven minutes to plate his dinner. She sighed and rose from her seat. Out of habit, she smoothed the wrinkles in her violet skirt before opening the fridge.
It was their anniversary, but it was also a Wednesday, and Wednesday meant meatloaf, toast, and two glasses of lemon-cured water. So, from the fridge she gathered three small carrots, three celery stalks, two large eggs, two lemons, two pounds of green beans, two one-pound packages of ground beef, and one bottle of store-bought barbecue sauce. She placed them beside the sink. In equal and even order.
While the water ran, she began to rinse the three small carrots. Before drying them off, she inspected them.
Which one didn’t belong? Which one was too small or too dirty or too ripe?
She threw the mismatch on the plum-colored floor behind her. The recipe, which she has practiced once a week over the last year, only needed two carrots. But Thomas wanted the best two carrots she could find. This is how she selected two celery stalks, one large egg, one lemon, and one pound of green beans. All fresh from her morning market errand.
She took the two packages of ground beef to the food scale Thomas had installed for her birthday. Tearing the paper wrapping, she placed the first package onto the scale and it was exactly one pound. With a smile, she tore the paper wrapping off of the second package of ground beef and threw it on the floor in a solid thump.
She placed the store-bought barbecue sauce, Sweet Baby Rays, alongside everything else that she found to standard. In equal and even order.
From the cabinet, she needed one box of breadcrumbs, one white salt shaker, one black pepper shaker, and one bottle of extra-virgin olive oil. And all of the stainless steel bowls, cups, mixers, measuring tools, and eating utensils she would need. Once everything was placed together in equal and even order, she could begin to recite the steps to a lullaby she sang in her head.
Step One: Preheat the oven to four-five-zero degrees.
The beep-beep-beep-beeeeeep of the oven buttons were followed by the sudden heat of it all. She felt a tinge in her eye socket.
Step Two: Place two chopped carrots, two chopped celery stalks, half of a half of a white onion, half of a half of a cup of boxed breadcrumbs, and the egg white from one large egg into a food processor. Process it for fifty-two seconds.
The original steps in the cook book Thomas’ mother gifted at their wedding didn’t say fifty-two seconds. It said one minute. But after Thomas’ complaints, and passive aggressiveness, and quiet lovemaking on Wednesday nights, she realized that fifty-two seconds was exactly right.
Step Three: Transfer the processed mixture into a large bowl. Add twelve ounces of ground beef, one teaspoon of white salt, and half of a half of a half of a teaspoon of black pepper. Mix until it becomes firm enough to shape.
With her fingers, she molded and meddled and man-handled the mixture, letting the coolness of the beef and egg white cover and soothe the backs of her hands. Sometimes the salt and pepper stung her, but overall, she enjoyed this part of the process. She couldn’t explain it, but it felt like clay. It felt like before.
Step Four: Form the meat mixture into a six-inch-long loaf.
She kneaded and pressed and folded. The meat stuck more to itself than to her hands, and she felt rid of it. She never liked the feeling of meat on her or inside of her; but it was Wednesday. Her nose twitched, and she thought back to that night when she stood and turned and stood and turned naked in front of Thomas. Somehow, as he looked at her, he had realized that the cutting board was perfect for the measure of the meatloaf. All she had to do was pinch the corners here and there to bring it to equal and even order.
Step Five: Place the loaf onto a foil-lined baking sheet and brush it carefully with barbecue sauce. Place it onto the middle of the middle of the oven.
She set the violet oven timer Thomas bought her one Valentine’s Day for exactly two seven colon three five colon five four. Her lips spread, as she felt the trace of a memory hidden along the top of her left eyebrow.
That morning, she was in the bathroom, sitting on the floor beside the base of the pale purple bathtub. Thomas bypassed the lock on the door and approached her. He didn’t have to ask her what was wrong. He didn’t have to guess or assume. He knelt down, and brought his face to hers. He kissed the stitches so gently, and so deeply, that she couldn’t stop herself from crying.
She allowed him to place his hands on her chin. She allowed him to angle her face so he could kiss away every teardrop that sat on her cheeks. She allowed him to lay his lips on hers. And then she allowed him to enter her, there on the bathroom floor, as her hospital bracelet tap-tap-tapped onto the cheap lilac tiles. Tap. Tap. Taptap. Tap. Tap. Tap. Taptap…
***
She must have lost track of time, because suddenly and with a blink she was setting the kitchen table. In the middle of the table, she placed the studio-colored butter dish and butter knife, knife, knife, fork, and fork next to the two halved wheat toast slices on two eggplant saucers. And then the pompadour water vase laced with cold water droplets next to the glass cups bottomed with seedless lemon slices. And then the two large wisteria dining plates. One directly in front of herself, and the other in front of Thomas.
He was waiting and watching her, so she gave him a smile and went into the routine of detailing her day.
“Yes, I bathed today. The lavender milk bath you set aside.”
It had been warm and smelled like milk.
“And then I put on the lavender perfume you bought me, and the organic shea butter lotion you placed on my place in the bathroom.”
She had to make the butter into a thick cream before she was able to knead it all throughout her skin. She had to take her time, especially around the purpling parts of her ribcage.
“Thank you for the beautiful dress and shoes and earrings and necklace. I love the way you think about me even when you don’t have to, Thomas.”
He smiled at her, his eyes warming the room.
“Oh, the meatloaf,” she said, as she stood at the side of the oven right when the timer rang.
It smelled heavenly. It smelled perfect. It could be her best meatloaf yet, but it needed something.
“I’m going to try something special,” she said to him with her eyes low. She pretended not to notice his eyes glaze over, or his lips go tight. “I promise, you’ll love it. It’s the only thing I could try to give to you today on our special day.”
She reached for the barbecue sauce she had stored in the back of the cabinet weeks and weeks and weeks ago. She brushed it onto the top of the meatloaf in equal and even strokes.
“Perfect,” she said as she took her time placing the meatloaf into the direct middle of the table. “Can I hear about your day?”
Thomas spoke about his day in dull details as he cut and plated the food, first for himself, and then smaller portions for her. She pretended to listen to him. She nodded when he expected her to nod. And smiled when he took a moment and paused for what he thought was dramatic effect.
She steadied her hands as he reached for them. It was time to bless their meal.
“Thank you for this meal. The blessings that I have prepared for today are the three scriptures from our wedding vows:
Ephesians five colon twenty two dash twenty three: ‘Wives, submit to your own husbands, as to the Lord. For the husband is the head of the wife as Christ is the head of the church, his body, and is himself its Savior.’”
She said, “Amen,” and they sipped the water and bit the toast.
“One Timothy two colon eleven dash twelve: ‘Let a woman learn in silence with all submissiveness I permit no woman to teach or have authority over a man; rather, she is to remain silent.’”
She said, “Amen,” and they sipped the water and bit the toast.
“Genesis three colon sixteen: ‘To the woman he said, “I will surely multiply your pain in childbearing; in pain you shall bring forth children. Your desire shall be for your husband, and he shall rule over you.’”
They said, “Amen,” and they finished the water, finished the toast, and began to eat the meatloaf in a familiar silence.
After one minute and forty-seven seconds, she asked him about the meatloaf. He said it was bitter. He said it kind of tasted like almonds. He lied and said that he didn’t mind it. But for some odd reason, fear didn’t tickle the nape of her neck like it usually did.
In fact, she started laughing as her head began to ache in her temples. The laugh went hard and loud as she grew dizzy from the sound of her racing heartbeat. The laugh turned to a hysterical cackle as vomit trickled up her throat, and she watched Thomas suffocate and claw at his throat until he drew blood. She howled as Thomas landed face first into his meatloaf causing a backsplatter that was so equal and even and…
