Two tables were set together long ways. There weren’t enough chairs for everyone to sit in, so there were piano stools, lawn chairs, and a couple of bar stools set to fill the empty space. Dishes were set out in front of every seat. There was a beautiful center piece that was handmade by my grandmother when she was younger. My brother and his wife have been up since early this morning preparing everything. The crock pot had been cooking on low for two days. Vegetables were being braised. An aroma filled the house. The meal was almost ready. I could hear stomachs rumble.
Close family and friends sat around the table. Beside me, there was my sister and her children, two boys and a girl. Beside them were the neighbors and their kids who we grew up with. Our families used to cook out every Sunday for lunch during the summer. On the other side of the table say my parents’ old work friends. They got close after retiring together. Sprinkled around and in between were people I’ve only met once or not at all that they must’ve been close to. I looked to my brother who was directly in front of me and saw him wipe his eyes as he stood up. He took the table’s attention.
“Mom and dad will both be missed more than we probably know. I think everyone here can agree they were the best parents anyone could’ve asked for. They were friends and maybe best friends for some of you and I know that we will all cherish the times we’ve spent with them and the lessons they taught us. I think I-” A lump in his throat halted his words. His wife placed a gentle hand on his back. He gave her a loving smile a loving smile and thanked her before continuing. “I think I don’t just speak for myself when I say, I will try not to miss them every day, but appreciate their lives and what they’ve done for us.” With a large grin, he clapped his hands together. “Let’s eat!”
As everyone licked their lips, I sat with a pit in my stomach; it was time to eat my parents. My father’s body was long ways across the table, not unlike a dead pig with an apple in his mouth. My brother’s wife made a glaze to help keep his eyes shut. My mother was in the gravy boat. They blended her down piece by piece in an almost liquid state.
“Don’t worry baby, everyone has to do this eventually. You’ll get used to it,” I heard my neighbor say. It was an attempt to comfort her crying daughter. “You remember that daddy’s parents are in the hospital right now? So, if you don’t like this one, you’ll probably get to try again soon!”
The little girl started to cry harder despite the prospect of such a meal.
“Come on, you can do it!”
“You, you’ll love it, I promise!”
“This is going to be so good!”
Faces started to light up. The smell of freshly cooked meat wafted around the table making everyone’s stomach rumble. Everyone’s stomach but mine. I could hear smooth metal sliding as my brother was sharpening his carving knives. My sister started to pass around my mom. There was a chorus of, “Mmm’s,” came from everyone who snuck a taste. The gravy boat was passed around to me. I scooped the ladle and stared at it.
I wasn’t able to sip her. I remember sitting at tables for other people’s parents. I would always pretend to eat so quick, so no one would notice. Even better if they had a dog. Usually, I would avoid going. This time was different though. They were my parents.
I put the ladle back down and passed the gravy boat. I didn’t have an appetite.
“Did you try her?”
I lied and nodded. In return I got, “Are you sure? I don’t think I saw you try any.”
My brother stopped sharpening the knives and was ready to dive in. My neighbor’s daughter had stopped crying. Even she had come to terms with what was going to happen. The dry tear stains on her cheek was wiped away by her mother just in time to watch my brother plunge a large fork in my dad’s buttocks, sawing off a leg.
“Alright everyone, hand me your plates!”
My brother was being handed dishes one after the other. He placed a piece of beautifully sliced meat perfectly in the center of each plate he received and passed it back down. People began to sit straighter in their chairs. The unraveled their napkins, resting them on their laps. Some were folding them in their shirt as a type of bib.
“Pass mom, will ya?”
“Everyone go light on her! There’s only so much to go around and there’s only a little left over in the kitchen. Once we eat her all up, I can’t just make more.”
“Oh my god, this is so delicious!”
The next thing I knew, I too had a piece of my dad placed in front of me. Mom was being passed around a second time. “My mom needed some salt. But that was ok, she was still delicious,” was the only thing I remember hearing my father say when he told me about his experience with this. I poured what I considered to be an appropriate amount of my mother, and passed the gravy boat along.
It seemed as if everyone was diving in for seconds before I could muster up the courage to take my first bite. The only thing left on the table was my dad’s head. The slow drip of glaze dangling from his eye was wiped up by my sister’s finger and immediately licked off.
“Mmm, we should have glazed the whole head, this is so good.”
I looked away and saw some of my parents’ old friends sucking what meat they could off nearly bare bones. My sister tried to entice me with glaze before getting distracted by my plate.
“Why haven’t you eaten anything yet?”
I didn’t have a response for her. My parents had given me everything growing up. Every dollar they made was spent on us. Every moment of their free time was spent together with my siblings and I. The house we grew up in, and the food we ate were all because of my parents. Knowing all that was left of them remained on that plate, I didn’t want to eat it.
“Hey are you ok?”
“Why haven’t you taken a bite?”
“You know, if you aren’t going to eat that, I definitely will.”
“See now, you know how to take it slow and enjoy it for a while. I can’t help but scarf it all down!”
“Come on man, give them a try!”
Reluctantly, I mounted a piece of dad to my fork. I felt eager stares close in around me. My trembling hands raised the flesh toward my mouth until I heard,
“Wait!”
I looked up.
“You need to swirl that around in a little more gravy first.”
Agreement came from around the table.
I dipped my dad to my plate and made circles with my fork. I held it up and felt my mom dribble down the tips of my fingers. I brought them closer to my face, and stopped for a moment. I held my breath, let my eyes close, and took a bite.
Tears fell from both eyes. Everyone smiled at me chewing my parents. I smiled back at all of them.
They were delicious.
∞
Michael Cluff is a soon to be graduate from Ball State University with a minor in creative writing.
