13 Apr Kitchen Politics
Rhia stared at the lump of blackened mass in front of her. This was supposed to be dinner, she thought.
With a sigh, she called up her husband, expecting the usual taunts again. Again, she’d have to admit to being a failure in the kitchen. Again, her mother-in-law would offer to teach her some dishes, and then proceed to remind her of the favour for many years to come. She was well familiar with these games but just didn’t know how to play it herself.
‘Hey, listen,’ she said into the phone, but was soon interrupted by her husband.
‘I’m still at work, don’t wait up for me.’ He said, before explaining about the long meeting he was stuck in.
Rhia pursed her lips in a secretive smile as she disconnected the call. She quickly dialed the number from her memory, placed the order, and proceeded to erase all evidence of the failed experiment.
Half an hour later her favourite pizza was delivered. Rhia sat by the windowside, watching the rain as she polished off the pizza and a glass of wine.
She was finally learning to play the kitchen politics, albeit her way.