RSVP for One

Roast preparation begins with spices saturating in beef broth, ingredients trapped so that our dinner will be imbued by the flavors. Concoction rests in the spacious fridge for 12 hours before Mother transfers it into an ancient cracked dutch oven. A dense fog of pungent aromas permeates the cozy kitchen space as the meat cooks. I steal long breaths of pink peppercorn, rough sea salt, roasted paprika, roasted garlic, and chili powder.

Table settings gleam with white china, and Gramma’s antique, spotless silver. Crystal glass refracts above us in the chandelier and in our frail glassware. Table cover is the luxurious run our great Gramma weaved herself into a lace tapestry. Walnut furniture and fixtures are blinding with the sheen of freshly applied treatment. Father pressing and steaming the carpet to show off the unique gray, and white pattern.

Perhaps I should go back a few days. Dear Penelope, my baby sister, graduates with honors. I am still in shock we have a lawyer in the family. All of us are beyond proud, glowing even, at the achievements she’s made. Upon hanging up the phone, my mother's face confirms the question on my lips. Lunch preparation will begin, and at our house, it’s a spiritual event.

Mother insists on the freshest ingredients so we go to the farmers market for the herbs and vegetables we don’t grow in our garden. The bustle of the morning shoppers sparks a tiny flame of excitement in my soul. Muddying our hands by sorting through every carrot, potato, and onion, until our haul satisfies Mother. We continue the day's journey by filling our noses with the spices that will marinade our roast. Final stop is the fresh kiln bread, which we will serve alongside the main dish.

Upon arriving home, mother prepares all the ingredients we will need for the next day, and she orders father to clean and set the dining room. My job, as the older sister, will be choosing the animal for slaughter. Wanting the best to honor my sister’s achievements becomes my obsession. Something that has just the right amount of fat and muscle ratio and absolutely from a specimen in their prime. I sit outside watching the fields as I ponder which one is worthy. I finally make up my mind and head out hunting with my bolt gun and machete.

Dragging the carcass home, I hoist it onto a hook and raise it into the air. Pride swells in my heart and I can’t wait for father to fabricate the meat. I head to bed with dreams of my sister’s smiling face. I sleep so deeply. Penelope will be home before noon and the butterflies in my stomach are already racing. Hugs and kisses abound when she arrives! We set about getting the food on the table and last minute lunch additions. As father uncovers the roast, we all bow our heads in prayer. “Thank you, Mr. Nelson, our dear neighbor, for being our sacrifice on this occasion…”