The lasagna presented before Irene looked as though it had fallen from a great height before coming into sudden contact with her plate. She looked across at Bettie’s plate, then scanned the nursing home’s cozy dining room to see that she was not the only resident to be served such slop.
“Excuse me,” she called to Josh, who was making a hasty retreat to the kitchen with his serving trolley.
Josh chose to ignore her.
It was Friday and he had places to go and people to see. He usually didn’t finish work until 7pm because he had to serve a hot dessert, but recently he’d gotten away with preparing a cold one on Fridays, so that he could leave earlier and be down at the bar with his friends by 6pm.
Tonight would be no exception and he had already prepared dessert; some hastily chopped up fruit with cream that the nurses could serve up.
All he had left to do was turn off the kitchen lights, then he was out of there.
“Excuse me Josh,” Irene tried again, loud enough to definitely be heard.
Josh came to a halt. Leaving his trolley, he made his way quickly back to Irene’s table.
“I am afraid I cannot eat this,” Irene said, then pushed the plate away from her to show that she meant business. “Could I have something else, please? Anything will do.”
“And I’m afraid that the kitchen is now closed.” Josh said, placing both hands on his hips.
“Please, Josh. Some cereal would be fine and it would only take a minute.”
Josh was about to comply when he looked down at Irene’s plate.
“You haven’t even touched it. I’m not getting you something else if you’ve not even tried it.”
“Please Josh, just get me a bowl of cereal.”
Chefs can be prideful creatures, and Josh was no exception. “You’ve not even tried my lasagna so there’s no way I’m getting you anything else. If you don’t like it, you can help yourself to extra fruit salad.”
For a few moments Irene was too stunned for words, giving Josh time to leave the dining room before she could think of a suitable reply.
Josh was halfway down the hall when a horrendous shrieking sound stopped him in his tracks. It reminded him of an animal in pain. He rushed back in to find a nurse consoling Irene, who was sitting slumped with her head in her hands, wailing at the top of her voice.
As he walked towards her, Josh felt guilty, but that the guilt was unjustified. The disapproving looks from some of the residents and carers didn’t help.
“I’m sorry Irene. Please be quiet and I’ll get you some cereal. I’ll even bring you a choice.”
Eventually, Irene’s sobs subsided. Speaking slowly, she explained. “You do not understand. It is not about the cereal. It is the lasagna.”
“I’ll get you the cereal. Coming right up.”
“You do not understand. It brings back such terrible memories of my...”
Josh took a couple of steps towards the exit then stopped and turned to face Irene. He could feel residents and carers watching their interaction and knew he’d come across as rude if he didn’t listen.
“...husband Ronald. He was in the army. That is how I got to travel the world and see so many places. We were in Germany when we had our first child, a boy called…”
Three minutes later and Josh was well-informed about Ronald Junior.
“...then two years later along came Emily in Korea…”
Five minutes later and Josh knew all about Emily’s formative years.
“...now the thing about Koreans is they…”
Now Josh was no longer standing. He’d taken the empty seat between Irene and Bettie, and was learning about Korean culture.
“Where was I?” Irene eventually asked herself. She looked down at her plate, scrunching up her face in disgust.
“Oh yes. I was getting to the reason why I can never eat lasagna again. To be honest, I can barely tolerate the smell and do not even like to look at the stuff.
To emphasize her point Irene covered the lasagna, which by now was stone cold, with her napkin. Satisfied, she continued spinning her yarn.
“It was the summer of ‘69, like that pop song by…now what was his name? Adam something or other. Give me a minute, I am sure it will come to me.”
“Bryan Adams,” Josh blurted, not wanting to give her a minute more. He should’ve been sitting at the bar by now, enjoying his first drink.
“Yes, that is right. It was the summer of ‘69 and man had just landed on the moon. It was July 31st, I will never forget. We had been back in America for nine years and the kids were teenagers, Ronald Junior fifteen and Emily had just turned thirteen. My Ronald was over in Vietnam, his third and final tour.
“It was just me and the children. I remember it was a warm evening and we had the windows open to let a breeze in. We were sitting at the kitchen table, eating lasagna when there came a knock on the door. When I answered it, two officers told me my Ronald had died a hero and presented me with the flag. I still had the taste of the lasagna in my mouth and from that day until my last, I will never eat it again.”
“Forget the cereal,” Josh said loud enough to be heard. “I guess I can turn stuff back on. What would you like?”
After much consideration, Irene said, “I think I will have a well-done sirloin.”
Twenty minutes later she was thoroughly enjoying her steak.
She had just about finished when Bettie asked her, “I thought they presented the flag at the funeral, not at the doorstep?”
“I think you might be right.” Irene said. “Perhaps I got my wires crossed.”
“Perhaps you did,” Bettie agreed. “Perhaps you did.”