Jamie shook his head. “Mom’s food,” he said. “It’s okay, you don’t have to worry about it—I’ll take it to the table later.”
I didn’t even look at the contents of the container. I just assumed that Jamie had told his mother that I was cooking and that she wanted to add to the meal.
I instructed Jamie to open bottles of wine and juice for the table. And once everyone had settled and dinner was served, I asked Jamie for his plate to carve the rosemary chicken for him since it was his favorite.
He waved it off with a chuckle. “Oh, I don’t need any. I brought my mom’s cooking. Honestly, no one can match her skills in the kitchen.”
I paused, the plate in my hand suddenly feeling heavy.
“Oh! The Tupperware!” I said, remembering Jamie’s mother’s food.
“I’ll get it,” he said, standing up.
“What did your mom make?” I asked, trying to keep the mood light, hoping Jamie didn’t think I had intentionally left it behind in the kitchen. “Was it one of my favorites?”
He walked into the kitchen and returned with the container, with an excited look on his face.
“No,” he replied, a bit too proudly. “It’s just that her food is always better. You know, you can’t really trust anyone else’s cooking.”
The room turned silent, with only the music adding to the ambiance that was slowly changing. I was offended. Of course, I was. But I didn’t want to have a confrontation with Jamie. Instead, I smiled at the table.
“Well, why don’t we all try some of Jamie’s mom’s food?” I asked.
As nods of agreement circled and the food was sampled—it was delicious—but still, the initial sting of Jamie’s words lingered. I decided then that a subtle lesson was in order.
As the dinner plates were clearing, my mother brought out the birthday cake, and everyone toasted and sang for me.
The next day was part two of the birthday weekend. I had wanted the same group of people to go go-karting and excitement buzzed around us. Jamie was gleaming with anticipation until I called out just as he approached the kart next to me.
“Sorry, Jamie,” I said, as my father, dressed for the occasion, joined us. “Dad will drive with me—I can’t really trust anyone else driving me.”
ADVERTISEMENT
