"That's not how you do it, love," Stanslaus said for the first time - or so he thought.
When Amartya's eyes flicked in his direction, he immediately got a hint that it might not have been his first word for the night. He might have been unconsciously muttering it again and again under his breath, either in a tone of dismay or reluctance or anything that could possibly tick his girlfriend's wires. With how Amartya looked at him (and with how she dropped the sticks onto her plate), he was certain that he had done something wrong for the night. This wasn't his first reaction. Maybe not even the second. And he was certain that he had said the words in a tone she didn't like. Worse, he had said it in a tone that he uses every time he's at work-a tone of terror.
But figuring out what he had said and how he said it exactly was already beyond his grasp. Nothing he could do with what's already done - but there's still so much potential in what's about to happen. "Here, love, let me show you how," he immediately picked up the pair of thin sticks right in front of him and raised them to the level of Amartya's eyes. "This... this is how you hold them."
Amartya looked at him for a long while. Or, to be exact, she looked at how he graciously positioned and balanced the chopsticks between his pointer finger, his thumb, his middle finger, and his ring finger. Her brown, determined-to-learn eyes never left his fingers, much to his sudden nervousness.
Truth be told, Amartya didn't have to learn how to use chopsticks. After all, the food that was to be served at the Wu's annual family dinner wouldn't be in any way Asian or require the use of such cutlery. Gabby (his only beloved younger sister) wanted to have a Caribbean-themed meal, and since everyone in their household (except Javier, the eldest) gave in to her simple whims, there was no way anyone would even think of bringing chopsticks to the table. It would be Caribbean, even if Javier said he wouldn't eat anything at all.
But Amartya, hardheaded as she was, still insisted on learning how to use the slender pieces of wood right in front of them. She, who, despite having traveled to different places in Asia, still hadn't mastered the art of using chopsticks and had relied so much on Western cutlery when eating East Asian delicacies. She never thought learning the skill was necessary. Stanslaus believed so, too, but ever since she changed her mind about it, he couldn't help but follow her lead.
The moment the steamed pork dumpling landed in his mouth from the pair of sticks flawlessly, Amartya's brown eyes left his fingers. Without further ado, his girlfriend grabbed the chopsticks away from his hands.
"Alright, my turn," she leaned forward; holding the sticks a little too tightly, he observed. "Kapag hindi ko pa 'to nagawa nang maayos, ewan ko na lang."
"Just follow what I did."
"I will, of-"
Her words were cut short when, in an attempt to raise the dumpling away from the mushiki, it fell back to its place unceremoniously once again. Without batting an eye, her gaze flicked back to him; this time, with irritation apparent.
Oh dear. She really was pissed now.
He gave her a consolatory smile as he took the sticks from her hand once again and tried to demonstrate the proper and most humane way of holding the thin pieces of wood. "Do it this way kasi, love," he said carefully. "Not so tense. Just like... this. You see how the fingers rest?"
"But I was doing it that way."
"No, you weren't."
"Again, I did it that way."
"No, mahal, you weren't. You didn't."
Amartya groaned for the nth time.
"I'm trying, okay?" Amartya sighed as she exasperatedly snatched the chopsticks from him. For the nth time, she adjusted her fingers, trying to mimic his - or maybe not, as the dumpling dropped to her plate before she could even lift it away.
Amartya froze for a second. Stanslaus followed suit. He looked at her carefully and nervously, observing how she'd take the failure once again. Would she cry? Dear Lord, would she-
"Okay. I'm... gonna take a break from this," she sighed, dropping the sticks onto her plate once again. "I'm going to the washroom."
Before he could even offer a word of comfort, Amartya had already stood up and disappeared from his sight. It took him a moment to absorb what had happened right in front of him: Amartya was pissed over chopsticks. Amartya, the girl who never, not even once, got angry at him, was pissed over two slender pieces of wood.
Stanslaus closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to think of ways to appease his already-pissed girlfriend. This was a scenario he had never anticipated in their one year of dating.
He wasn't used to her being this frustrated. Nor mad. He had witnessed every emotion from her - from the flicker of happiness over a cone of ice cream to the groans of desperation every time he pinned her to the bed senselessly - but never the emotion between irritated and mad. Never the emotion that tangled annoyance and frustration. He always knew - and he had always been accustomed to - an Amartya whose patience was one for the books; the type to fight for something, to wait for something, even if the price wasn't worth it. Amartya had the patience of a saint. She had always had the patience of a saint.
That, even waiting for someone...
"Love, can we get ice cream instead?"
It was her gentle voice that prompted his eyes to open. Was she still pissed? "Let's grab ice cream downstairs. Can you go with me?" she asked.
"Of course," were the words that fell out of his mouth effortlessly. Yet his mind was still somewhere else. Somewhere far from where they were, somewhere unfamiliar to him yet very familiar for Amartya. Somewhere... "What about... what about the chopstick session?"
"I'll do it later, of course. I don't want your grandparents to look at me weirdly," she mumbled in a determined tone. "I can tolerate Javier's eyes, but not your grandparents... nor your dad. Pero ice cream muna tayo, okay?"
Stanslaus froze in his seat as Amartya walked to grab the keys to her condo unit. His previous thoughts faded to black; a new source of tension arose within.
He knew for a fact that it would take more than learning how to use chopsticks to please his family, but he opted not to tell his girlfriend that.
