Dinner for four

The sun outside had started to set, but Momina wasn't looking at it. She had spent her entire evening cooking—roasted chicken with rosemary, tomato basil pasta, grilled shrimp salad. Chocolate cookies for dessert. It was Wednesday evening and she was about to have dinner with her family. To a stranger, it might have seemed like a lot for a regular weekday. But the longer the cooking time, the lesser the anxiety of the load she carried.

The clock on the microwave read 7:30 pm. Thirty minutes since dinner was on the table. The chicken was losing its shine, looking dry. Momina, Denice, and Sonny sat waiting for Fatho. He was running late again, as usual. Dinner time was 7 pm. Since a few days, he had been reaching home late. Nobody bothered to call or message him. Somehow, they were enjoying the silence.

Momina shook her legs vigorously under the table. Denice kept adjusting her skirt. Sonny pulled off skin near his fingernails. To anyone looking in, waiting seemed like eternity.

At 7:40 pm, Fatho was at the dining table.

"Sorry folks, the CEO wanted to run through some numbers. Are we ready to eat or what? I'm starving." He said this enthusiastically.

Nobody said a word. They started serving themselves. Pin drop silence except for the metal clunks of cutlery.

Momina served herself slowly. She had been holding onto knowledge for many months now—the burden burying her day by day. Fatho was seeing someone. She knew it was never the CEO. She knew it was never the work. Twenty years of marriage had worn them thin. She kept putting spoonfuls of salad on her plate until she realized it was too full. She had avoided confrontation all these years because protecting the kids mattered the most. She was completely unaware that his secret was no longer hers alone.

Next to her sat Denice who glanced at her phone under the table. Her screen lit up with a text message from Wendy: "I saw them again today." Denice sat with her feet feeling the weight she was carrying. Fatho was seeing Wendy's mom. Wendy was a girl in Denice's senior year—for years they couldn't stand each other, had always felt jealous of each other's beauty. Since the day Wendy approached her with the news, things had changed. Denice sighed upon seeing the message. She hoped she could gather courage to confront Fatho someday. But courage was fighting a strong battle with protection for Momina within her. Somehow, protection felt like the safer choice, keeping Momina unaware and happy.

Fatho took a contented bite of his chicken leg, completely oblivious to the silent judgment of the two women on the table. His mind was occupied with a gentler secret. Denice's relationship with the boy next door was disturbing—disturbing in a way that he didn't want his little girl to grow up. He wasn't fond of the boy. Yet he chose not to interfere. To see her sad would make his heart sink. The complications during her birth were a bitter reminder of how precious she was in ways Sonny never quite was. He knew Momina loved their son more—had always known. He looked at Denice lovingly, diagonally across the table.

Sonny sat beside him, lost in his own thoughts. School wasn't for him; his mind was firm. He had been quietly looking for jobs outside of town and had already applied to a couple. Fatho had made money, built respect. Sonny wanted it too and soon, he couldn't wait for school to finish. Breaking the news to Fatho was what his heart desired. He was waiting for the right moment. But Fatho seemed busy, as always. Momina he would tell later. He wasn't fond of her clingy nature—she always treated him like a small boy, refusing to accept that he had grown up. Sonny disliked that, even though some part of him understood it.

The room was filled with sounds of food getting chewed and water being poured.

Momina glanced at Fatho, sitting across from her. Fatho could feel her looking at him, so he reached out for his phone from his pocket and started looking at it.

A frustration crack opened up within her. Not just about the phone. About everything.

"Fatho, didn't we decide no phones on the table," she said.

"Well, I have important work to do, so don't lecture me."

"Well, if you can't obey the rules in your home, don't make them," Momina said, her voice furious.

Fatho flung the chicken leg across the wall. It left a mark. Nobody looked at it.

"I work hard to give this family happiness. You have no right to say that to me," he said.

"I work hard too, to feed this family," said Momina.

Fatho gestured his hand in the air, palm facing her, as though he mocked her.

Momina let out silent tears. She was not crying about the phone. The sadness inside her was too much, and it needed an outlet.

"Oh, there we go again," said Fatho.

Sonny intervened. "You know Momina, Fatho is right. He supports this family financially, so he can be allowed to use his phone."

This was not the moment to say that. Sonny felt proud in standing up for Fatho. He trusted that Fatho would understand his need to drop out of school and start working.

Denice snapped. "No Sonny, that's not fair. A rule is a rule. Momina took so long to make this meal, so stop siding with Fatho. He needs to obey the rule too."

Denice's frustration wasn't about the phone. In her mind she questioned Fatho's love for the entire family. He wasn't obeying the basic rule of keeping his family together.

"Can you stop siding with Momina for once?" said Sonny.

"Well, I won't," said Denice.

"Ughhhhhhh," Sonny let out a noise, clenching his teeth and holding his stomach in.

Fatho banged repeatedly at the table with his palm. Momina continued sobbing silently. Denice started singing a random song.

"Well, I am thinking of quitting sch——," Sonny blurted while shouting, but somehow stopped himself.

The room went silent. All eyes were on Sonny waiting for him to finish the sentence.

Momina asked, sounding curious, "What did you say, Sonny?"

"I am thinking of quitting this argument," replied Sonny.

"Okay, yeah you should. That's a good idea," said Denice.

"Are you sure you were going to say that, child?" asked Momina with a tone of disbelief.

"Yes," lied Sonny, convincingly.

"Denice, my child," said Fatho. He looked at her, sensing worry in his heart. "You yourself brought your phone to the table. And you have such dark under eyes. Maybe you should get off that phone and sleep more."

But the dark circles weren't from the phone. He had watched her silently from his bedroom window, sneaking away almost every night with that boy, climbing the fence and running to the other house which stood right beside theirs. The boy was much older and skipped school often.

The table went still.

Denice dropped her fork on the table with a loud thud, as though giving up on the meal. Nobody moved.

"Fatho, you work all the time. You never have time for us. When did we all go for a movie together last? I don't even know. It's like you aren't even a part of this family anymore."

There, she said it. At least part of what she wanted to say. It felt nice.

"Hey honey, look at me," said Fatho, his voice softening. "I will keep my phone away, okay? If that's what you like. Let's try and enjoy this meal, alright."

Fatho decided to let go of his anger for the sake of Denice.

"I am not hungry anymore," said Momina, and left the table.

"Same here," said Denice, and left the table.

Sonny and Fatho stared at each other. The chicken had gone completely cold. The mark on the wall waited to be explained. Momina was in her room sobbing. Denice looked at the clock in the living area impatiently, waiting for it to turn to 11:00 pm.

Nobody said anything.

Nobody ever did.