Chapter 3 - The Uniform of Submission
On Monday I came home early. Norine was already there using the key she had never considered a privilege. She had rearranged the chairs and set three places. Actually, three places. There was no setting for me. “Where am I sitting?” I asked. Norine looked genuinely puzzled by the question. “You’re handling dinner tonight, Willa. Reed has an important guest.” Then she held out my apron. “At least make yourself useful.” I took it. By then, Norine believed she was handing me a uniform. What she was actually handing me was storage.
Reed arrived at 6:40 with Marin. She wore dark trousers and the champagne silk blouse. Reed introduced us casually, like the previous six months had not happened. “Willa, this is Marin. She handles staging for some of my properties.” “So glad Reed found someone talented,” Norine said warmly. She did not look at me while saying talented; she didn’t have to. I served roasted beet salad with goat cheese, candied pecans, and shallot vinaigrette. Nobody complimented it. I texted Poppy Greer, my wine-bar owner friend: First course served. No compliment on vinaigrette. Monsters. Her reply came almost immediately: I’m opening wine.
During dinner Norine asked Marin, “Do you cook?” “A little.” Norine smiled. “Reed loves a home-cooked meal.” Then she turned slightly toward me. “But not everyone has time, do they, Willa?” “I run a professional kitchen,” I said. “I have time. I have skills. What I currently don’t have is a seat at my own table.” “Willa,” Reed warned. There was a special way he said my name when he wanted me to stop existing conversationally. I returned to the kitchen. The main course was pan-seared salmon with dill cream sauce, roasted fingerling potatoes, and green beans with toasted almonds. When I placed Reed’s plate down, he did not look up from his phone. “Thanks, babe.” Babe. His girlfriend sat beside him. His mother sat across from him. His wife was serving him dinner. And somehow babe was the detail that nearly made me laugh. Norine took one bite. “The sauce is rich.” Not delicious. Rich. Norine could make a weather report sound like a performance review. Then Marin tasted the salmon. “This is exceptional,” she said, looking directly at me. For half a second, Norine’s fork stopped moving. Reed noticed nothing. Then Marin stood. “Let me help clear.” Reed waved one hand while looking at his phone. “That’s what she’s for.”
