(drawing by Brian Satalino)
I was never fond of Great Aunt Bertha and whenever she visited us I found all sorts of excuses to stay as far away as possible.
It was her smell.
A strange soapy odour that reminded you of a cheap car air-freshener that burnt your throat and upset your insides. A concotion she probably made herself.
It was her size.
I could have sworn that a small clark truck was hidden beneath her floral dresses, carrying her through the door. I remember stretching my ears to hear the sound of its motor but all I could ever hear was the fleshy sound of thighs rubbing against eachother, fighting for some space.
It was her face.
Hidden behind layers upon layers of glistering makeup, pencil-drawn eyebrows and scarlet lips that touched the base of her over-powdered nose.
I never saw what her hair looked like, only raven-black roots managed to escape the captivity of her golden-threaded turban that she always donned.
It was her voice.
Gelatinous and full of phlem that came from her whale-like mouth lined with tiny, gleaming teeth.
The woman was a nightmare and now just because "..it is part of who we are" and "...without our beliefs we are nothing but animals." I have to eat her.
. . .
"What a beautiful establishment!" my father said before knocking on the door of the In Loving Memory funeral home.
"The best in town, dear...great aunt Bertha always had a good taste for these things...I read somewhere that they even have their own ovens so everything is freshly made...not like the other times...." my mother said.
"Aunt Bertha is lucky to be taken care of like that..." added my father in a mellow voice.
"Oh please! Let's get it over with" I cut in, took the heavy door knob in my hand and gave it a push on the polished door which opened at once.
"We are here for our aunt Bertha.." said my father softly.
"Please come in, the rest of the family in here already" said a sweet looking lady the colour of organic peach.
Great I thought and my shoulders drooped a little more. True enough, the Flinns, Flosses and Faucets had all gathered for a bit of Bertha!
"Jonathaaaaaan, Bettyyyyy, hellooooo." It was aunt Julie, my father's sister who slid towards us with open arms.
"Kristeeeeeen dear, how much you've grown!" she said and run her jeweled fingers through my hair.
"And what a gorgeous place this is...look at the table, the decorations...this is going to be a great feaaaast!" she said with a small hop on her heels, " we are going to take aunt Bertha inside us with loooove.." she added, closed her eyes and placed her palms on her stomach tenderly.
"With loooove" repeated my parents and touched their bellies. Fortunately, we were interrupted before I had to join in.
"Ladies and Gentlemen, please be seated!" announced a handsome man in his 50's and everyone found their seats, unfolded their soft, red napkins and placed them either on their laps or around their necks. I chose the former.
"I am Mr Pertelis, the owner of In Loving memory and I am honoured to welcome you to Mrs Bertha Flinn's one-year-later feast. We took great care of Bertha this past year and followed her orders to the letter. 27 courses!"
"Ahhhhhhhhhhhhh!"
"Yes, ladies and gentlemen. 27 courses is her lifetime achievement! 27 courses for 30 people..such greatness! Is there anyone form the family that would like to say a few words before we begin?" Mr Pertelis asked addressing the family.
They all looked at eachother mutely until my father rose from his seat and spared them the embarrassment of dealing with the fact that noone knew her that well.
"My dearest family!" my father started "some of you I see only at one-year-later feasts. It seems that the flesh and bones of our relatives keep this family together!" to this everybody nodded in agreement.
"I remember last year at Grandpa Marcus feast....the poor man was so skinny we had to share a plate in two, yet how close did that bring us? Grandpa Marcus meat was stiff and could only produce a thin, meagre, soup but we all were together to share the love of the sacred moment we all took Grandpa Marcus inside us.
Today of course is different. Great Aunt Bertha will feed us all today and probably tomorrow...Mr Pertelis, can we take left overs home?'
Mr Pertelis nodded while wipping a tear from his cheek with the back of his hand.
"We will receive her inside us..."my father resumed, "with love and respect and together we shall bring back memories....until the break of dawn!"
"Here, here!" they all shouted.
"What wine did she reserve for us kind Sir?" my mother asked
"Red Idipnoos of 2006" Mr Pertelis answered proudly.
"Excellent choice...." everyone agreed.
"Well done Bertha!" some shouted.
The side doors opened and a small army of waiters in black tuxedos walked inside the hall.
Candles were lit, bottles were uncorked and red wine filled our tulip glasses...it smelled like a freshly dug grave in an elf forest!
"Ladies and Gentlemen let the Feast begin!"
. . .
"AUNT BERTHA WITH ROASTED BALSAMIC ONION AND THYME SAUCE!"
Good, I thought. All the thyme should cover the car freshener smell.
I don't know whether it is a psychological thing, but while running my tongue around a smell piece of aunt Bertha in my mouth I though I caught a whiff of car... but perhaps it was only aunt Julie's cheap deodorant; she had her arms raised in the air on top of her shouting: "GREAT AUNT BERTHA I CAN ALREADY FEEL YOU INSIDE OF ME....WITH LOVE!"
"WITH LOOOOVE" everybody shouted in reply.
I gulped my lovely red wine and concentrated on the onion but just then the door opened again.
"PEPPER-WINE BERTHA!" Mr Pertelis shouted and another large plate landed in front of me.
"Bu...bu...but I haven't finished with my onions" I said to the waiter who took the vegetables away.
"Kristeeeen, it's all about the meat today, Jonathan haven't you taught her anything?" aunt Julie shouted across the table. My dad pouted his lips and rose an eyebrow in a meaningless facial expression that my mother found adorable.
"I want to be cooked like this!" she said to my father in a flirty tone, brushing her shoulder over his.
"I don't think our family can afford it, sweety but we'll eat you the best we can..."my dad said in the same tone and added "now stop drinking and get some Bertha in there..."
Pepper-wine Bertha's smell made my mouth water so I dug my knife and cut off a piece, it was soft and juicy. I wondered what part of Bertha that was but then I decided that it would be best not to know.
The wine helped me empty my plate...Great Aunt Bertha wasn't so bad after all. Maybe she was never that bad, maybe I was too young and too confused to appreciate her...
"PRIME BERTHA RIB!" shouted Mr Pertelis
"TENDER-BERTHA ROAST!"
"MASALA-CRUSTED BERTHA FILLET!"
"BERTHA GOULASH!"
"PAPARDELLE AL' BERTHA!!!"
How dare they hide Bertha underneath all the soulless, flour?
I picked up all the pieces of meat I could see and pushed all the pasta in my soft, red napkin..
"Aaaatta girl!" giggled aunt Julie and pushed all her papardelle on top of mine.
"You can feel her inside you already, can't you?......you start to like her?.... she tastes well, doesn't she?"
This confused me. I knew Bertha all my life, why is her tasty flesh making me change the way I remember her?
Is this why we eat people? To forget all their flaws and sins, to see for ourselves that they were made of flesh and blood so that we will be able to finally let go of our anger and forgive them?
"MINUTE BERTHA WITH CHERRY RED WINE SAUCE!"
"TO BERTHA! MAY SHE BE BLESSED INSIDE US AND FORGOTTEN BY NONE!" uncle Philip announced
"TO BERTHA!!!!" everybody shouted in responce.
"I FEEL YOU BERTHA! I FEEL YOU INSIDE ME ALREADY!" aunt Julie shouted, tears ran down her cheeks and merged with Bertha grease around her mouth.
"BERTHA BOURGUIGNON!'
"BOURBON-GLAZED BERTHA!
"BERTHA TAGINE!"
"BERTHA WITH PAK CHOI!"
"BERTHA CARPACCIO!"
"BERTHA AND BOOZE CASSEROLE!"
My belt fell on the floor, I needed the extra space inside me for more...Bertha was unstoppable, my hunger for her was insatiable. My mouth filled and emptied, my eyes closed, the red wine pushed it all down like the tides.
Why did I despise her so much?
It was her smell.
A soft soapy smell that spoke volumes of a lady that kept herself clean.
"LARDEN BERTHA BLADE WITH PRUNE AND PISTACCIO TOPPING!"
"BRESAOLA!"
"CHILLY CON BERTHA!"
"RAGU!"
It was her size.
A fully grown woman, full of scrumptious juices flowing inside of her, sweet and tender.
"PENANG BERTHA CURRY!"
"BERTHA PATTIES!"
"PIRI PIRI BERTHA!"
"BERTHA MIXED PAELLA!"
It was her face.
Funny...I can't really recall her face but I'm sure I can recall her healthy, small, bright eyes. They must have been clear, brown and tender.
"BERTHA RICHELIEU WITH MADEIRA SAUCE!"
"IRISH CODDLED BERTHA!"
"STICKY CHIPOTLE BERTHA!"
It was her voice.
Sizzling and crispy. Moist and creamy. Crunchy and spicy.
I felt the hot tears on my cheeks and I bowed low almost kissing the tender loin.
"I ... love you Bertha! I LOVE YOU BERTHA!!!! OH HOW MUCH I MISS YOU!!!!"
Aunt Julie's greasy fingers were wrapped around my face. Her spicy breath entered my nostrils, she was weeping too.
"We love her, that's why we must eat her whole, sugar" she whispered.
"CHATEAUBRIAND!"
I let my fork slide down my fingers and took the first piece of Bertha in my hands. I closed my eyes and took in her smell. Sweet and bendy.
My jaws grabbed the meat and bit on it hard. It broke without complaint and left a red smudge on my tongue before I pushed it down with wine.
"KOKORETSI!"
Bertha intestines wrapped around her smaller inner organs challenged me. Eating them would be my ultimate act of love and it was something I had never done before. I closed my eyes and hovered above my plate.
I remembered her warm smile, her small teeth more glittery than her gold turban, soft body soft hands, and chewed on her liver with contentenment.
This was dessert!
