Planted

Chapter 23 Bonding over Chicken Rice

When I got home, a robust discussion was in progress about whether Boon Tong Kee or Wee Nam Kee chicken rice was better. Dad bought BTK chicken and Logan WNK. Everyone took sides including the children. Chicken pieces were sampled in turn with and without blindfolds and people took turns to state reasons for their preference. Monique's husband, Jed got everyone to vote on flat heart-shaped leaves he gathered from the garden. We were squashed together like caged hens round three tables with barely any space to eat. Jeb collected the leaves in a coconut husk, and sworn to impartiality counted up the votes. A lot of good-natured bantering, pushing and shoving occurred amongst the Marshalls as they put each other's chicken down. WNK won by a slim margin. Spontaneously, the winning side got up and did a chicken dance.

Quick as a flash, Jan took charge and set up a kid's table for Ann's five, Bea's three and Monique's two children. Soon they began their own conversation about school, books and games. The mums and dads moved between two tables at intervals discussing their children, piling on food and making sure they were behaving. I could tell Jo and Bea were fast joining the sisterhood. We shuffled around, brought more food from the kitchen and admired the Tommy's workmanship on the house. Logan provided live Spanish guitar music to impress Doris who was still single. Typical.

But what have I done with my life? I thought, taking my place at the head of the table, and looking at all the plates and soup bowls that did not match. "Doris, sit by me," I said, hoping to provide a buffer against Logan's charms. "Logan," I said, wearily, "over there." They have done so much with their lives, and I, only this--an infinitely long spread of food and soup spoons and chopsticks to celebrate TUF's survival, for the time being before another crisis hit. At the far end was my dad, sitting down, all in a heap, frowning. Jan was busy chatting and he looked neglected. Tommy smiled in my direction and sat next to dad, engaging him in a conversation about his collection of antique furniture and his plans to attend a Recycled conference with Jan.

Thinking back at the last time we entertained like this, I was in primary school then. My friends asked why we still used our great grandmother's teak furniture inlaid with Mother of Pearl in our home. They complained how cold and hard everything was. Good thing I sold those after mum passed on and replaced them with quality pieces from the TUF warehouse. Vaguely, I remember dad's rare exercise of will when he went out and bought us all white goose down pillows, otherwise we'd be sleeping on great grand-auntie's beautifully detailed wooden pillow boxes that gave us all a neck ache. Those pillow boxes and other nine other pieces became the goldmine in dad's small Vintage furniture collection. Jan was so different from mom. She was all about being mobile, on the move, experiencing new adventures and not hoarding. How was she ever going to convince dad move into a more environmentally-friendly line of furniture that was compact, sleek and practical? Could they work it out? What would happen to this if they didn't?

That was what I was worrying about, this was what I was doing--ladling out red bean soup for dessert--I felt, more and more strongly, like an outsider looking in; or as if a shade had fallen, and, robbed of colour, I saw things truly. The living room was still very shabby. There was no beauty anywhere. Just items mum bought as status symbols or things she could not bear to give away. Why was I living a life she wanted for me when our values were so different? Nothing seemed to have merged. The adults all sat separately in little groups introducing themselves to each other. And the whole of the effort of merging and flowing and creating rested on me.

"So," I asked everyone at the table, "tell me what happened in court. I feel like, I was the only one who wasn't there."

The sisters each began to recount what happened in court with sisterly pride and Tommy modestly refused to comment when each took turns to praise his performance. Logan and dad took turns to thank him for his hard work and Tommy thanked me for being his inspiration. Aww!