The Wacky Cook

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The Wacky Cook did no cooking during the holidays, so here is a Short Story By Debbie Morgenstern
The Writer.

The first time someone asked her politely "And what do you do?" she answered "Nothing!". "Nothing" came the surprised raised eyebrow? "What do you mean by nothing? How can you do nothing?"...

She tried to explain. "You see, for the first time in my life, I am really enjoying my free time. It is quite exhilarating actually".

Yes, quite sure you are, she was told. The speaker moving off. Why? She was a bit baffled.

The next one who asked, didn't even listen to her explanation when she started by saying "Nothing, but I am..."...

"What's wrong with people?" she mused to herself. After thirty years of being a full-time wife and mother, who spent most of her time in the car going from school to piano lessons, from judo to art lessons, what was wrong with doing nothing? She did her share of breakfasts on the run and lunches sometimes for five different people, who would turn up at five different times of the day! Early dinners and late dinners depending on the schedules of everybody that week. The laundry took a couple of days and the shopping was an additional commitment! Her voluntary work took three mornings of each week. There just were not enough hours in a day. She would get up in the morning and it was Sunday; by the time she went to sleep it was Friday and she had no idea where the week went. She enjoyed those busy years and loved all the rushing around and knowing she was useful and productive. It was wonderful and exiting, but now the children were gone. They were fully grown and did not need anything from her any more. They were leading their own lives. The voluntary work after fourteen years in one place was due for a change, so she decided to take some time off and suddenly she was free. Free to do what she wanted, when she wanted to and in any way it suited her to go about it! It was a giddy feeling! There was no reason to rush home, to make food for some hungry dependent. The shopping for food was a cinch. The laundry took no time at all. They were just the two of them at home now and if she didn't serve him leftovers for dinner, he was pleased with whatever was served! When 'he' left after breakfast she had the day to herself. It was wonderful! Slow, relaxed, easy and so lovely. She enjoyed every one of those long days; just being able to have another cup of coffee and read the newspaper at her leisure was a thrill! She had the car and did all sorts of things, which gave her pleasure. Sure, it was not much, but so what? Someone asked her if she wasn't bored. "Why no", she said. "Why should I be bored?".

But it gave her an uneasy feeling; did people find HER boring? Were they trying to tell her something? Could it be that after all these years of being useful, responsible, intelligent and interesting, she has suddenly become just boring? It shook her; could it be true? Did you really have to do something to be interesting? "Nonsense" she admonished herself. "That's really silly! Grow up" she told herself!

The following week she was invited to a luncheon. It was a very lovely, charming gathering of women. A doctor of that, and a professor of this, an educator, a chemist, each one with degrees standing at attention after their names, on charming little cards, which were charmingly presented and exchanged. Enjoying their drinks, small talk was passed around like snacks on a tray and finally lunch was announced and everyone was seated at a beautifully laid out table. She found herself seated next to a formidable lady of mature age. She was a professor of that and a doctor of this, she lectured here and there, she flew all over the world, lecturing and advising. She was a delightful luncheon companion, marvellously entangled in her own importance, entertaining and delightful stories spilled out of her, with herself of course, the interesting subject of them all. Suddenly, as if she ran out of steam, the woman turned and sweetly said "and what do you do, my dear?"

Caught completely off guard, she could only stumble over herself. Eh, ah, nothing.

"NOTHING?" thundered the professor fusing into the doctor. "What do you mean nothing? How can one do nothing in today's world? What is wrong with you?"...

She could not believe she was facing the same woman. A complete transformation took place within seconds! Instead of the charming and delightfully entertaining lady, she found herself looking into the face of an awesome judge, with blue eyes flashing and a number of chins quivering, demanding to know, how an intelligent young woman in these modern times could be doing nothing.

"Now explain yourself, young woman" instructed the dragon. Speechless with shock, she could not find words to answer the sudden attack. What was she to do? And how to do it? Should she get up? Should she pretend she had to leave? Drop the salad into her lap? Faint into it? This was just too much! Taking a deep breath, she finally regained her poise and was about to launch into her explanation and let the bitch have it, when the dragon again changed into the lovely charming old lady of a few seconds before, beamed at her and with a most ingratiating smile, said kindly "As long as you don't feel guilty about not doing anything, my dear, that's fine, quite wonderful in fact. Isn't that right my dear?"...

At which point, as if she was done with her, the great one, pointedly turned to talk to the woman sitting on her other side and she found herself ignored for the rest of the luncheon.

Walking home, she thought it all over; how strange people were and what an amazing thing to say. Why should she feel guilty about not doing anything? Why feel guilty at all? Guilty of what? Ridiculous. She was a mature, relatively secure person, with the job of bringing up two sons well done and behind her, her home running smoothly, her husband happy, relatively so and she had lots of friends. What was it she was supposed to feel guilty about?

The more she thought about it, the guiltier she felt. She started to feel uncomfortable with her leisurely life-style. She started making up stories of what she did or did not do, making up jobs, which she did not do! And yes, she finally decided, damn it all to hell, she did feel guilty. Blast the old bitch! Why did she go to that stupid lunch? She became miserable and depressed; her peace and quiet completely destroyed and her tranquility vanished. Afraid of the next "And what do you do" question and what she might or might not do. Or say! She would be rude next time, she just knew it. She became obsessed with the problem and finally hit on a plan.

The very next day they were invited to a cocktail party. It is a form of entertainment, which she particularly detests. She hates standing around, talking to strange people, pretending to be interested in things they tell her, which actually bore her to tears. Who needs it, she always says... Some people obviously do, because that's where they were that very night. Drink in one hand, cigarette in the other, which successfully prevented her from eating the dreadful food usually served at such treacherous occasions and bored stiff, just waiting for the proper time to make her excuses and go home. And suddenly there he was; a charming man, giving her a charming smile, introducing himself charmingly and while looking around to see what or who else he might be missing by talking to her, saying in his languid, charming way, "And what do you do, you lovely, lovely lady?"...

"I write", she said, charmingly smiling at him.

His eyes stopped roaming and came to rest on her. His face became serious.

"You do what? Did you say you write? How clever of you! What do you write? Do tell me all about it! But you must! Come, come and let's get some more drinks and sit over there, at that little table! Do come along!"...

She spent a delightful hour,and decided that cocktail parties were actually not that bad at all. Not at all! Lovely way to spent an evening. She was quite sorry to leave...

The following week she tried it again and was thrilled with her second glowing success. It was a bit more difficult; she was asked what had she written lately? Was it published? And what was she working on at the moment? She gave a very mumbling sort of a reply, "Doing research, you know. Terribly busy with that. Must meet dead-lines, such a bore!"... It worked! She could not believe it. Was that really all there was to it? She discovered new people at new places, who all found her interesting and charming. A new life was opening up for her and it was great fun!

It was disgusting. It made her very angry and very sad; how utterly useless it all was! How stupid! Did she really want to play that game with people? Did it really matter? Who cared!

She did an awful lot of walking. She does her best thinking that way. If you cannot swim in a large pool doing laps, up and down, up and down until you solve your problem, you walk! Always works for her. This was wintertime, so she walked. And walked some more. She simply could not keep on telling stories about herself. It disgusted her, belittled her past and endangered the peace of her future. It came to her one day that maybe she should try to write; really write. Why not? People did tell her how much they enjoyed her letters; they were a treat, they said. She did tell a story wonderfully, they said. Why not start by writing them down? Short stories or longer ones? Why not try? Really try! Maybe,by fooling everybody,she would get something wonderful out of it? Become a writer? A real one? Maybe. Maybe not.

Send your questions to The Wacky Cook: email: debbiemorgenshtern@gmail.com

Debbie Morgenstern is the author of "My Life in Israel" and other short stories.
"My Life in Israel" can be purchased by accessing this link: "My Life in Israel"