Onions

She was always the cook of the household, because he can only make one dish. But every year on St. Valentine’s Day , it is his turn to cook, and he is always very careful to get everything right. It has to be perfect. Because she is.

While the oven heats up to temperature, he prepares the assortment of vegetables. Everything slices perfectly and symmetrically. Nothing can go wrong today. Last ingredient. Tomatoes. He can't remember why he decided to add the tomatoes. He never has before. Still, he likes the idea. Sweet among the savoury. Like her kisses when he comes home from work.

The chopping board moistens with the tomato juice as he prepares them. Irresistible. Contradicting his carefully planned preparation of the meal, he spreads his index finger across the board, and licks it clean. The flavour of the juice is strong on his taste buds. But it doesn't taste like tomato at all. He panics, thinking he has made a mistake. They’re definitely tomatoes?? He can taste salt, but he hasn't added salt to the dish yet? Bewildered, he attempts to calm himself by checking the temperature of the oven. It’s all going according to plan where the oven is concerned. But upon seeing his reflection in the oven door, he realises what is the matter. His aged eyes are reddened and his face is wet. Tears! Onions! He'd been crying after chopping the onions! How could he be so stupid? Had he just ignored that new found sting in his eyes? You don’t have to be a cook to know chopping onions makes you cry. He remembers her old trick; freeze the onions for a little bit before you chop them. Then you won't cry. How could he have forgotten that?

Annoyed, he returns his focus to his cooking. It will be ok. Everything else is going well. The chicken is tender. 'Done well, but not well done' he always says, as if he is an expert as opposed to somebody who cooks but once a year.

He leaves the stew to simmer and sets the table with the same care and precision. Two spoons. One for main and one for dessert. Then, he checks his appearance in the mirror. Looking smart, he thinks, and smiles. The bow tie took ages to tie. But it always does. It’s always worth it, though. He has to look his best today.

His eyes are still red, however. He remains annoyed that he forgot to freeze the onions. But never mind. He won't let it ruin anything. This is the one day when he can't let anything go wrong.

He fills a ladle with the stew and sips it. Perfect! He fills two bowls and takes them through to the table. He places them down in the usual places. He pours two glasses of rose wine and sits down. Everything is set. Everything is right. Nothing can possibly go wrong. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he notices the freezer door has been left open. He suddenly turns to get up and close it. He pretends he’s forgotten the pepper. Can’t possibly let her know that he forgot to close the freezer.

But then remembers that he left it open when he took out the onions.

He had remembered to freeze them.

Odd. That makes no sense. Maybe he had an allergic reaction to something else, he thinks, as he awkwardly sits back down.

But then he turns around and sees the empty chair opposite him, the untouched glass of wine and the bowl of stew that is doing nothing except growing cold.

And he realises why he was crying.