Public Pizza Vs. Private Sushi

Frank and Kelly sit silently at their family dinner table, staring at their phones, trying to avoid eye contact. Frank is drinking a Miller Lite while Kelly sips a finely aged white wine. For most married couples, drinking in silence is a great American pastime, like fireworks on the Fourth of July or bitching about taxes. But for Frank and Kelly, the silence is deafening. As a couple, they excel at communication. This is the main reason that after fifteen years of marriage and three kids later, they are still in a loving, committed relationship. Even when they fight, which is rare, they know how to have a respectful debate that ends in compromise.

But for the last few weeks, the foundation has been crumbling. At last, an immovable object has encountered an unstoppable force. It started small, as these things do. There was a disagreement with far-reaching implications but no need for immediate action. When the couple first sensed resistance, they argued their points through jokes. Three minutes later and the laughs began to sound hollow. Finally, fearing having to face a serious conversation, the couple did what every good American couple does; swept it under the rug and went about their day like nothing happened. And it worked. For a few days.

Over the next couple of weeks, more and more disagreements began happening. At first, the arguments were focused on the problem at hand, but slowly over time, the conversation mutated into something more sinister. The issue was no longer just a difference of opinion but a metaphor for everything wrong with their relationship. Seemingly overnight, their household has gone from Malcolm in the Middle to Breaking Bad. Things took a turn for the worst on Tuesday after Frank told Kelly she is "just like her mother," a rookie mistake, especially for a fifteen-year married veteran like Frank. Since then, the couple has barely spoken to one another, which is why on this lonely Friday night, Frank and Kelly find themselves literally and figuratively sitting on opposite sides of their family dinner table.

The couple is exhausted. On top of working stressful corporate jobs, Frank and Kelly also moonlight as a personal chef, maid, doctor, math tutor, chauffeur and even occasionally amateur psychologist (if Googling whether your child is a sociopath after screaming, "I hate you, I wish you were dead" counts as psychiatry) to their three demanding children. The difficulty of marriage is that at the drop of a hat, the person who acts as the greatest de-stressor in your life becomes your greatest stressor.

Usually, on Friday nights, the couple snuggled on the couch, binging tv. And if they are feeling naughty, they would Netflix and chill (which means binging tv while eating a ton of ice cream, in case everyone isn't up to date on married slang). But on this Friday night, there won't be any tv watching. Instead, the couple is gearing up for another round of debates, taking a brief intermission to fuel up on drinks.

Knowing where the night is headed, Frank relishes the silence until Kelly suddenly slams her glass on the table, indicating she has finished her drink. Immediately, Kelly reaches for the bottle and starts pouring another glass. Frank looks up from his phone and stares disapprovingly in Kelly's direction. Then, for the first time all evening, their eyes meet. Kelly pauses, pouring her drink and lets out an exaggerated sigh. For those who aren't fluent in body language, Kelly's sigh roughly translates to: Really? So you're going to judge me for having another glass of wine? The man who gleams with pride every time his college friends start chanting 'Frank the Tank!'

For a moment, Kelly considers saying it out loud but instead decides it is better to continue pouring her drink and take the rare moment of eye contact to engage Frank on a practical matter. After all, they still are parents and the last thing they need to add to their plate are three hungry children.

"What should we do for dinner tonight?" Kelly says.

Frank stares at his wife with raised eyebrows. What is she planning? Is this a trap? Frank's gut is telling him to be cautious. But his gut is also hungry.

"I don't know," he says, throwing his hands up and leaning back in his chair. "How about pizza?"

"Pizza?" Kelly says, apparently offended.

"Yeah, pizza. It's Friday night. I want pizza."

"But everyone gets pizza on Friday nights."

"Well, then, I guess 'everyone' is onto something."

Kelly bites her lip to avoid lashing out at his condescending tone. Then, after taking a moment to regain her composure, she makes a different suggestion.

"What about Nectar?" Kelly says.

"What's Nectar?"

"It's that Asian fusion place I told you about."

"Asian Fusion?"

"Yeah, Asian Fusion. You know, Asian inspired dishes with a modern twi—"

"I know what Asian Fusion is!" Frank says. "My confusion is why in the world we would get Asian Fusion for delivery?"

"I don't know. How about exposing our children to some culture for a change."

Frank momentarily blacks out from anger. He has to shake himself to come back to reality. After regaining consciousness, he tries taking a deep breath to calm down, but instead, he starts shaking his head vehemently.

"What?" says Kelly. "Did I say something wrong?"

"Nope," Frank replies.

"Then why are you shaking your head?"

"Because…" Frank trails off. Clearly, he has no idea what to say. Finally, desperate and seeing no other viable options, Frank decides to just go for it. "I'm shaking my head because I'm wondering, when did you change?"

"Excuse me?"

"You used to love pizza on Friday nights. Now suddenly pizza isn't good enough for you, like your tastebuds only deserve fancy food."

"This has nothing to do with my tastebuds and everything to do with our children's future."

"Our children's future? God, you're so dramatic. What's wrong with pizza on Friday night? We both had pizza on Friday night growing up. It's delicious, it's cheap, and everyone we know does it, so why wouldn't we?"

"What's wrong with wanting more? Yes, we had pizza on Friday nights growing up. But that doesn't mean our kids have to. Don't we want our kids to have the best food they can?"

Frank grips the table in an attempt to restrain his rage. "Yes, I do. Which is why I suggested pizza."

"So you're telling me that you would rather feed your children less quality food for a $5 pizza instead of paying $20 for a sophisticated meal and much better dessert options?" Kelly's words cut deep.

"Well, clearly, you ate pizza growing up because your math is way off. I'm saying not only is pizza good, but it's also free. And your Asian Fusion wouldn't cost $20, but instead $20,000 a year. So yes, I choose free pizza over losing all my money to $20,000 sushi."

Kelly stands up from her chair. Then, almost like a reflex, Frank follows suit.

"You would deny your child an opportunity to get ahead?"

"No, I'm denying my children from being surrounded by pretentious elitists who think just because their family can afford Asian Fusion, they are better than everyone else even though they have never earned a meal their entire life."

"Wow, what an example you're setting. You're afraid of your kids thinking they're better than everyone while judging anyone who happens to eat at Nectar. Newsflash, not everyone who eats Asian Fusion is an entitled snob. Some are genuinely good people who want the best for their kids. You act like every kid that goes to private—"

Frank's jaw suddenly drops at the word "private." Kelly stops mid-sentence, suddenly feeling like she just said something horrible.

"What's wrong?" But as the words leave her mouth, she already knows what happened.

"Hey, angel," says Frank.

In her best horror movie performance, Kelly slowly turns to see her beautiful daughter Sarah standing at the kitchen entrance.

"Hi, sweetie. How long have you been standing there?" Kelly asks.

"Long enough," Sarah says dryly. "It's hard to miss when you're shouting."

"We're sorry. We were just having a spirited debate. It's nothing to worry about."

"I know what you were fighting about," Sarah says.

Frank and Kelly exchange worried glances.

"Oh well, don't worry about that, honey. We both just want what's best for you," says Frank.

"Why don't you just ask me what I want?"

Another look is shared between the parents. Is this the best solution? Let her choose? Both parents nod to each other in a secret agreement that only they would understand.

"Well..." Frank says. "What do you want?"

"I'm sorry, Mom," Sarah says. "I want pizza."

Kelly is devastated. "Are you sure?" she asks desperately.

"Positive," Sarah says.

Frank is ecstatic. Not only has he won the debate, he is also getting pizza. Victory will never taste sweeter.

"We accept your decision," says Frank. "And I hope you know how much—"

Before Frank can finish, Sarah interrupts. "Can you make sure we get pepperoni?"

"Excuse me?" asks Kelly.

"Pepperoni," Sarah says plainly, looking down at her phone. When she doesn’t hear a response, she looks up to see her parents with jaws ajar, staring at her. "Umm, hello? Am I speaking a foreign language? I said pepperoni. For my pizza."

"For your pizza?" Frank says, confused.

"Yes," Sarah says, returning to her phone. "Get garlic knots too. Oh, and cinnastix!" Sarah momentarily looks up from her phone to make sure her parents hear her. When she sees they are still staring blankly at her, she rolls her eyes before adding, "May I please get cinnastix?"

All that either parent can muster is an "umm" before Sarah’s phone starts ringing.

"Oh my god, it’s Ariana. Is it ok that she comes over later?" But before any parent can answer, Sarah says, "Ok, thank you, bye" and darts from the kitchen to answer her phone.

As her voice grows fainter, Frank and Kelly can hear Sarah telling her friend they are getting pizza and there would be enough for her. Both parents stare blankly at each other. Then, after a moment, they slowly return to their kitchen table seats.

"She thought we were talking about food?" Frank asks.

"I guess so."

"But how could she possibly think…" Frank trails off as he replays the conversation in his head, desperately searching for some way to possibly explain how Sarah would think they were actually yelling at each other about dinner. When he can’t find anything, Frank finally gives up.

"Well, that settles it. She’s going to private school."

"Really?"

"Hell yeah. That girl is going to need all the advantages she can get. My god, we may have dropped the ball on that one."

"Uh, yeah, that was terrifying. But I can’t lie, it really helped my argument."

"Yeah, no kidding," Frank says, and for the first time all night, he holds a smile. "You know we're not actually getting Asian Fusion for dinner, right?"

"Are you kidding me? We can’t spend over a hundred dollars on delivery food. We have a kid attending private school in the fall."

"Great point. Let’s also cancel the cinnastix."

A wide smile comes over Kelly's face. She jumps from her chair and embraces Frank, sharing their first kiss in weeks.

"I love you," Frank says.

"I love you too. I'm so happy to be on the same team again. I really do think it's the best option for her."

"I agree," Frank says. The couple continues holding each other, overwhelmed with reassurance that their marriage is the best decision they have ever made.

"And hey," Kelly says. "If worse comes to worst—"

Frank finishes Kelly's sentence for her. "She can meet someone and marry rich."

Kelly holds her hands over her heart. She was going to say the same thing!