Garlic

It’s funny, but the garlic press was every reason why she fell for him in the first place. She remembered clearly — it was only a few months ago — sitting on his large leather couch, about to watch a movie. He asks if she wants wine, and so she offers to help while he prepares the cheese and crackers. Where is the corkscrew, she would ask. A clever smile crept over his face as he whispered, wait til you see this! It was an electric corkscrew. He took the bottle from her hand and set it on the counter as he put the device to the cork and set his machine in motion… whrrrr, the metal spike went in… whrrrr, the metal spike came out, drawing out the cork. Fascinating!, she said.

She sat back down on the couch with the cork in one hand and the open bottle in the other. No effort, no second-thought needed. Well, this wasn’t the first time he’d impressed her with some fancy trick. The gas fireplace that went on with the flick of a switch was the first thing she was shown when they walked in the door — before she could take off her shoes, he took her by the arm over to the living room. She’d oooh’ed at the fireplace, and later ahhh’ed at the electric foot massager.

But it wasn’t just the devices — it was the cavalier attitude he had about him, as though he always had a better way of doing things. It was the way he would order off-menu for her at restaurants. It was the way he knew all the shortcuts and back roads around town — even if they seemed to take longer, he assured her that they were saving time by not sitting at all the red lights. It was as simple as grocery shopping with him. What do you mean, you’ve never tried starfruit? And so went the elaborate quotidian moments of the relationship.

At times, she might catch herself feeling melancholy over some of the old, slower ways she used to do things. Her father had taught her all the best ways to arrange firewood in their fireplace back home. As she grew up, he would pretend to leave the room while she lit the wood that she herself had stacked. She knew, though, he was still watching out of the corner of his eye — to see if the logs would catch fire using only one match. She would ask him slyly, did your fires used to roar like this?, knowing he would pretend that his were better.

And then there was that time she thought she would impress her parents at Thanksgiving by opening the wine. She was only 15 at the time, but it was important that they knew she was almost an adult. Her parents didn’t say a word as she poured bits of cork into their glasses with the wine. That same year, on Christmas day, mom asked if she’d like to have a glass of wine with dinner. She put a corkscrew into her daughter’s hand, and guided her carefully through the process. Perfect!, she remembers her mother said.