Other Voices Magazine

The Monthlies

Winner August 2008

“Love is like cooking. It should be entered into with abandon or not at all.”
-Harriet van Horne

Family Casserole
A fly bounces against the window of a house and swaggers through the opening. Inside, it gravitates toward burgundy slate tiles and ascends onto a simply designed redwood cabinet.

Ursula cuts pieces of cooked chicken and places them on an oval serving dish. Bobby pins bunch her graying hair away from her face. She swallows a piece of chicken and says, “I didn’t know it was that bad.”

Emily lets go of a black pot and potato masher and tucks her brown hair behind her ears. “Before I could tell you how bad it was, you told me, ‘Emily, you made your bed, now you lie in it’.” Ursula says, “I didn’t know he was threatening to kill you—”

They look down in the direction of a loud snap. Emily asks, “What was that?” A mouse pushes itself out from under a chrome and cast-iron wood cook stove with its hind legs. Its neck is clamped between the bar and the wooden base of a mousetrap. Ursula says, “Huh. Good.”

Laura walks into the kitchen and looks up at them. She follows the direction of their gaze. She gasps and says, “We should save it.” Emily says, “No, we should put it out of its misery.” Ursula says, “Don’t bother. Let the trap do what it’s supposed to.”
Laura protests, “We can’t just let it die like this!” She looks to her mother and grandmother but neither of them is moved. Emily puts a good chunk of butter into the pot of potatoes. Ursula continues to cut pieces of chicken. Emily turns to Ursula and says, “See mom, I felt just like that mouse, lying in my bed. Suffocating.”

Isabel takes her shoes off by the door. “Laura, what’s the matter?” Laura points at the mouse. “Oh. Oh, it’s still alive. I’m going to throw it outside. It’s not sanitary.” Laura says, “We have to save it.” As Isabel takes the mousetrap away, she explains, “I’m sorry but the mouse is too far gone to save.”

Emily says, “Laura, set the table, please.” Laura reluctantly takes a set of thick white ceramic plates to the table. She looks through the dining room window and says, “Aunty Isabel just threw the mouse into the chicken pen. The chickens are going wild for it.”

Ursula stops what she is doing with the chicken. Emily says, “Laura quit fibbing.”

Ursula looks at Laura through the open archway. Laura smiles and says, “Grandma, sometimes I throw frogs into the chicken pen.”

Ursula halts her avid chewing and opens her eyes wide. Laura laughs nervously. Ursula swallows. Emily scolds her, “Laura, you do not.” Ursula puts her greasy hands in the air. “Mensch! I don’t want to know.”

Laura continues to set the table. Emily looks at Laura as though she is a stranger. The sound of a motor passes by the house. Isabel goes back to the kitchen. “What’s that look for?” Ursula shakes her head.

Isabel drops the mousetrap in the corner by the wood cook stove. “Here’s your mousetrap.” Emily takes note of it. Isabel washes her hands. “I tried to wave Thom down but he just waved back and kept driving his quad. I guess he’s not interested in supper.”

Ursula frowns. “What do you mean?” Emily says, “He’s probably full from eating his catch.” Isabel laughs and says, “The only thing he’s full of is beef jerky. If he’d caught any fish he would’ve brought them home to brag about.”

As Ursula sets the dish of chicken on the table she says, “Isabella! If my son says he caught fish then he did.” Emily turns to Isabel and winks. Isabel smiles. Emily puts the mashed potatoes into two serving bowls.

Laura asks Ursula, “Can I help with the stuffing and gravy?” “No child, it’s all ready. Including the carrots and the peas and the beet salad.” Ursula grabs an empty pitcher on the counter. “Here, you can bring this to grandpa. It’s for his cider. He’s in the shop. And tell him supper is ready.” Laura takes the pitcher.

As Laura walks away, Ursula adds, “And don’t tell him about the frogs. Even if you are fibbing. You’ll spoil his appetite.” Laura mumbles, “It was his idea anyway.” As Laura leaves the house, Ursula calls to her, “Don’t tell him about the mouse either!” Isabel asks, “What’s the fuss?”

Emily picks up the flyswatter hanging on the wall, creeps toward the fly on the kitchen cabinet, and—

Annalise lives in Edmonton and she is in her third year studying the professional writing program at MacEwan College.

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