Notes

“Congratulations!”, my aunt whispered to me from behind.
“Gracias,” I replied, smiling and lifting my certificate up from beneath the table

My family sat in a circle around a table as white as snow among many other tables now occupied by my close and remote relatives. I wore a graduation gown that looked like one made for a clown at a children’s birthday party, sitting at the head of the table. The murky darkness of my outfit made me seem highlighted amongst the people in the restaurant. Waiters wearing tuxedos straddled in an orderly fashion, as if being trained by a drill sergeant in an army. It was almost hypnotizing. A waiter stopped at our table and placed a silver tray in front of my mother. A burgundy colored steak the size of my car keys seemed to sleep in the middle of the plate, with the vegetable sides that looked like weeds. My mother stared at the plethora of culinary devices that were flooding the table, before eyeing around for clues from my relatives. It was hopeless. This level of luxury was beyond our ordinary life. No one knew whether she was supposed to use a two-pronged or a three-pronged fork. I watched as my mother started fidgeting with a knife the size of my pinky and swallowing her saliva. Red hue glowed on her cheeks.

With a sigh, I slouched into my chair and listened to the calming tunes of The Blue Danube that seemed to have the opposite effect on me at the moment. This was not what I had expected when my mother told me we were going to a high-end restaurant to celebrate my graduation. I shifted uncomfortably under my smothering gown as I dreaded my turn to be served.

When it came, a waiter arrived with a golden tray. My hope and fear grew with each click-clack step. “Maybe coming here might not have been a bad idea at all,” I tried to cheer myself up. The moment the waiter lifted the lid of the dish, my mother quickly stood up with our old polaroid camera. The flash was aimed directly at me. Snap. Snap. Snap. Quickly, many other relatives followed suit. Within seconds, I was being showered with flashbangs as my relatives grappled at the chance to show off elegant food on their social media. Through the chaos, I could hear faint snickers from the frequent guests of the restaurant.

Once the photography craze died down, time seemed to slow down as I closely inspected the dish that rested on such an extravagant throne. A small piece of steak even tinier than mother’s throbbed and oozed out liquid in the color of blood. At this moment, I couldn’t help but wonder just how the night would have unfolded if I had declined the offer to come to this fancy place. I would not have to put up with the judging eyes of the frequent customers. I would not have to notice the slight uplift of the waiters’ mouths that signaled they enjoyed watching the comedic show that was my family. Would I, instead, have been greeted by some familiar congee and fried mackerels, smiles from my close relatives, and the joyful sounds of children playing? I couldn’t help but imagine all the what-ifs as I felt stuffy under my gown on the night that was supposed to be a once-in-a-lifetime graduation meal.