Bitter Work

The holidays used to be such a disappointment for Eva. She would spend hours cooking and cleaning, setting the table just so, only to have all her guests call to cancel one by one. Jeremy’s car broke down, Angela’s cat had the sniffles, Kathy was so sorry but Mortimer suddenly developed gallstones and she had to get him to the ER. Eva would settle in at the head of the table and glower at each empty chair, silently admonishing her absent guests. One day you’re going to regret missing out on my company, she thought as she ate a forkful of mashed potatoes. And my cooking. After the fourth year of broken invites, Eva stopped asking people to come. A year later she received her first invitation.

Jeremy’s home was lovely, bright, and warm. Eva stood outside for a moment and admired the meticulous landscaping. It was so unlike her rambling cottage gardens where plants were allowed to intermingle at will. She could hear the boisterous voices of all the people she had been longing to see. A tinge of anger crossed her face. How convenient that they’re all free this time, she thought with disdain. She contemplated leaving but just as she began to turn away the door opened.

“Aunt Eva! So glad you could come! Please, join us.”

Several hours later, Eva sat in uncomfortable silence while her family cleared away the remnants of supper. Jeremy put on a pot of coffee while his wife set up for desserts. The small table was laden with pies, cookies, and cupcakes. It looked as though everyone had contributed some kind of sweets, but smack dab in the middle lay Eva’s offering: an artfully crafted pear tart with cranberry glaze.

The children of course made off with brightly colored sugar cookies and heavily frosted cupcakes, but the adults spent much time in admiration of the sparkling tart. No one wanted to cut it, so with an exasperated sigh Eva scooped up a cake knife and sectioned the dessert. As she handed plates out to her family something shifted and her discomfort began to slip away. In short order she was smiling and by the end of the gathering she had even laughed a few times.

Driving home that night Eva felt remorseful over how she had mentally chastised her family for their cancellations. Life happens on its own terms, not mine. She nodded at the thought and found a tiny shred of serenity. She pulled into her driveway beneath the gnarled pear tree that her father had planted when she was a child.

Eva often wondered when the tree would finally give up. As hideous as the tree looked, it still provided ample fruit. It had lost two large branches in a windstorm last year, and she had felt for certain that it wouldn’t survive the winter, yet it had budded and bloomed and hung heavy with fruit despite the scars on its side. Just like me. Suddenly Eva knew why no one came to her gatherings. It wasn’t her - it was the house and all the decades of emotional scars it contained.

Four people had died in Eva’s old farmhouse during her lifetime. The first had been her Nan. Eva had never known her as anything other than ancient. Nan was less a person and more a fixture in Eva’s memory - a constant presence in the corner of the parlor, gently humming while knitting an afghan. To Eva the blanket had been an endless field of colors. It had been draped over Nan’s coffin at her funeral.

Eva’s father was the second departure. His passing was sudden and unanticipated. Eva recalled her mother’s frantic call for help when Pa collapsed on the bedroom floor. There had been no warnings, no signs of anything wrong. An aneurysm claimed him in the blink of an eye.

Not long afterwards, her sister Elise left home. Now alone with Ma, Eva saw her start to slowly unravel. One moment she would be in the here and now and the next she was asking after her late husband. The gaps between time in the present and time in the past became fractional until all that was left of the current moment was the occasional realization of hunger and thirst. Eventually these faded too. Ma passed in her sleep just over three years after Elise left home.

Eva lived alone for a long while after that. Her sister had married and started a family and Eva wasn’t put off by the idea of being a spinster. Little by little she started to learn who she was without caretaking. She began to redo the gardens and discovered a love for cooking. She started taking culinary classes at a community college - and that’s where she met Andres. He would be the love she never knew she was looking for, and he would be her hardest loss.

Eva had slowly made her way into the house while all these memories were surfacing. There was one room she never entered. She hadn’t dared in the nine years since Andres’ passing, but tonight she was bolstered by the realization that the time had come. Eva closed her eyes and opened the door.

Andres’ clothes were still laid out on the bed, just as he had left them. He never got dressed that morning. Eva had been the one who found him slumped in the shower. Another medical anomaly, a rare defect in his heart, and he was gone just like that. Eva’s family hadn’t come around because she had never let him go, and the energy of the whole home was that of suffering and dispair.

Eva ran her hand along the bed, remembering the many nights they had stayed up late just talking. She let herself feel the emptiness that she had been trying to ignore. All her attempts to get people together had been to fill the void.