Kitchen Envy
She wonders why she comes home not wanting any dinner. After she spent most of her evening, tired, frustrated, and hot as hell cooking a decent meal for her and then she comes through the door, telling her about her day and claiming how much homework she has and retreats to her bedroom, abandoning a nice warm meal on the table.
Catherine just couldn't understand it, though try as she might to understand.
Lindsay emerges from her room and head into the family room. When Catherine catches her, she sits her down.
"Honey," she begins tentatively. "Is there anything wrong? Is something bothering you?"
Her daughter looked at her strangely, shaking her head.
"Nope," she sighed. "I'm fine."
"Oh," Catherine chirped. "Well, are you ready to eat some dinner?"
"No thanks mom," Lindsay says quickly and goes to watch TV.
Baffled and worried, Catherine gives up and cleans up.
The next day, the same thing occurs, and she's annoyed after she let it go on for about a week or so. Catherine knows what the culprit is and she tells Lindsay to stay put in the house while she apprehended the person ruining her meals.
She notices the transition from big garden homes to humble cottage like homes as she drove to the source of her daughter's fulfillment.
Catherine killed the engine, agitated that she had to come over again unexpectedly, and disturb this woman who didn't like her much anyway. Catherine had finally met her match, and she really didn't feel like dealing with her today, but this concerned her daughter so she got up the courage.
There had been no need to knock because Catherine saw her built figure stalking to the door already through the glazed window in the door. With a gentle swing, the door opened, and Catherine stood on the porch, her hands on her hips, tight lipped and angry.
"Child, I don't have time for this," the woman said. "Don't stand out there and make a scene. Come in."
"Listen, Mama Rose," Catherine began. " I know you've been letting Lindsay stuff her face here with whatever you give her and I want you to stop it!"
"Don't tell me what I can and cannot do for that child," Mama Rose said. "She came over here and asked if she can have something to eat and I gave it to her."
"Well, stop," Catherine whined. "By the time she gets home, she's too full to eat dinner and I cook everyday."
Just then, Warrick came in.
"Catherine you know I hate it when you whine," he said, preoccupied with something.
"But Rick, Lindsay's been coming over here stuffing herself with junk food and not eating dinner," she continued to whine. "Not only am I upset, but I'm jealous. Why does she eat your food and not mine? I'm her mother for God's sake."
"Well child have you ever considered the possibility that you can't cook?" Mama Rose proposed.
"Excuse me?" Catherine shrills.
"Did I stutter?" Mama Rose spits back.
Warrick figured that it was high time to intervene.
"Grams," he said. "Cool it. Catherine," he chuckled. "She's right."
More angry than before, Catherine stormed toward the door.
"Ooh, now you ain't right," Mama Rose chided her grandson.
"Baby, wait," Warrick laughed. "Look, I'm sorry," he apologized, taking her hand gently.
"No," she sighed. "You're right. I really can't cook. Well, I can cook, just not that well."
The couple hugged and Warrick ushered Catherine into his grandmother's kitchen. Mama Rose wrapped plates up and cleaned off the table so that Catherine could sit.
"Look here," Mama Rose commanded. "If you intend on marrying my grandson any time soon, you better learn what he likes and how to make it. And you better feed that child of yours to her heart's content."
Catherine rolls her eyes, sighing and resting her head in the palm of her hand. She didn't feel any better, knowing that this time, it was indeed her and not Mama Rose.
"Yes ma'am."
"Good," Mama Rose nods. "Now, come over here and help me with this chicken. This is how we fry chicken. We don't use batter like you white folks."
Catherine rolls her eyes again and mutters, "Oh Lord Jesus help me."