The place: the living room.
The time: dinner-ish.
Mom says she wants guacamole.
So Dad says he will go to Chipotle.
Mom writes down a list of what she wants in her burrito bowl. She wants carne asada, with cheese etc. Dad says he doesn't need the list, because he will remember everything. Mom says he does need the list, because he has Alzheimer's. Dad, who in fact does not have Alzheimer's, responds to this accusation predictably, and walks out in a huff while waving his hands.
Dad returns with a bag of food, and places the various containers down on table. Mom sits, and starts digging through her burrito bowl with her fork. The food is crumbly, concealed beneath layers of lettuce and cheese and salsa. Mom asks, What is this?...It doesn't look like steak.
Dad: It's the thing you ordered. And then he promptly turns to me, and asks: What is carne--is it cheese?
I say no, carne is meat. Queso is cheese.
Dad shrugs.
Mom takes a bite, and says it is too salty, pushes it away. Dad says, it's what you ordered. Mom pulls it back and takes a few more bites and says she's done. She offers it to me.
I take a bite. It is disgusting. I dig deeper, and notice white curds.
I ask Dad: What did you order?
Dad shrugs again and says, I don't know, I just pointed at what she wanted. It was the one that has the weird name.
Mom asks Carne asada?
Dad said yes, I think so, I don't know, I just pointed at it. I can't pronounce these names.
I hold up a forkful of white curdled food. I say, This is not carne asada. This is sofrito.
(pause, they do not know what sofrito is)
I take a curd between my thumb and forefinger, and squeeze it. It bounces right back.
They watch, transfixed.
I say, You got the tofu.
(another pause)
...and then Mom screams.
Dad's eyes jolt wide open. He asks, I got WHAT?
Mom starts shrieking, I'm gonna throw up! Tofu! Oh my God!...
Dad looks horrified. And says, Oh, no.
Mom's shrieking turns to moans.
Dad again: Oh, no.
I ask Dad, Didn't you notice this does not look like steak?
Dad says, I thought it was cheese! Carne asada is cheese!
I again say, no, queso is cheese, carne asada—
Dad interrupts: Shit I don't know, asada, sofrito, how the hell am I supposed to know what any of this is?
Mom: Because I gave you the list!
I say, It's no big deal, tofu is good for you. But mom has her eyes closed and is pursing her lips, while holding her abdomen, willing herself not to vomit. Dad just sits, with a horrified face. He cannot believe he brought tofu into this house.
I offer Mom part of my food, but mom says, No thank you, I can't eat anything else.
Dad smirks and as he takes a bite, says: Well it's a good thing my chicken burrito is so delicious...
Mom turns to Dad and points an accusatory finger, eyes narrowed to angry slits: If I did this to you, you would be screaming and waving your arms, Goddamnit, Jeeeeeesus Christ, and storming out and coming back with a bag from Burger King!
Dad chews in silence, but his head hangs a little low.
Then Mom, miraculously recovering from her poison-induced nausea, turns to the bag. Mom pulls down the top of the bag and peers in. She lets it go, and as it bounces back upright, she levels her eyes at Dad. Silence.
And after a pause, mom says, AND HE DIDN'T EVEN GET THE GUACAMOLE.
[END SCENE]
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