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Squeezing my already sore abdominal muscles, I gently slid forward to the edge of my seat.
Señora Olguín nodded and then picked up a regular dinner fork and knife.
I replaced the fish knives and picked up the same ones as her.
“Remember, you must adjust your eating at lunchtime to accommodate elegant or important dinners. These are the only times when you are expected to have a complete meal at night, and there will be a minimum of four courses. When you arrive, what will they offer you first?” she asked with a raised brow.
My back was feeling uncomfortable from the lack of support. “Sangría before we eat, and entremesas filled with frutas secas, jamón serrano, and quesos finos.” Even thinking about the boards filled with cured meats and cheeses had my stomach growling. It was a betrayal of my upbringing—we did not eat so well at Maestra Cecelia’s Theater—but fine cheeses were worth their weight in gold.
Ana Olguín’s chin dipped down as she nodded, and even though she was severe and rude, the movement was actually quite lovely. Her eyebrows raised, and she began cutting the peel from the banana. Her movements were swift and precise, and I watched with fascination. We’d practiced this before, and I was still clumsy.
“Yes. They will receive you in the sitting room. Once you are finished, you will be escorted to the dining room. Do not go exploring. People will usher you along at all the proper times. Under no circumstances should you appear to be looking for a clock. It is an insult to one’s punctuality and hosting skills. This is true even when you separate into different parts of the house after dinner. Women will go with Señora Flores. Just follow the crowd.”
I nodded, trying to copy the institutriz’s grace from moments before while the edge of the table pressed into my forearms and my stomach burned. My first incision into the banana went better than expected.
“Excellent. I like this quieter version of you, Renata.” She nodded once. “With any luck, you will attract a husband from your own isle. You’ll be mother and devoted wife in no time. Wouldn’t that be something?”
“Gracias,” I mumbled. I tried not to say anything when she was lecturing me about marriage. She constantly brought it up when we were together.
Appearing pleased, she continued, and I looked down at the banana, and finished the exercise.
“Once you begin eating, you’ll start with a salad. Pick up your salad knife.”
I moved almost instinctively at this point. It was the easiest one to find, as you were supposed to work from the outside in with cubiertos.
Ana nodded. “Well done. Now find your soup spoon for the second course. They’ll be serving caldereta de langosta.”
Yet again, this one was easy to find. It was deep and round. I picked it up and thought of the creamy lobster soup. The self-loathing part of myself noted how willing I was to accept being an Élite for a price as low as delicious food.
“Remember, ladies do not suck or slurp. The soup should gently glide into your mouth. If it is too hot, discreetly use the fan. So help me, San Volcán, if you blow on your soup in public like you did last week, I will publicly decry your character.” Ana spoke in a reasonable, lady-like tone, but she was all venom and threats.
I couldn’t help it. “And here I was thinking we had become friends.”
“Renata, focus,” Ana said with half-way narrowed eyes.
I internally rolled my eyes, but I begrudgingly followed along.
“All right, what comes after soup?” Ana asked.
“Plato fuerte,” I said.
“Plato principal.It is more polite,” Ana corrected. “Do you know what they are serving?”
I was getting tired and irritated, which always brought out the contrarian in me. “Paella?”
Ana looked horrified. “We do not joke during our sessions, Renata. Paella is a dish for Trabajadores.”
And, just like that, back into reality.
Élite food was only considered as such because of inaccessibility to the masses. They even denied those who prepared such dishes the option to truly enjoy them.
I steeled myself, stopped picturing the feast, and returned to the present.
Señora Olguín was waiting for something.
My jaw tightened when I realized she was waiting for me to apologize.
Heat spread throughout me, returning that familiar flush to my whole being. I would not apologize for loving a widely popular dish. I would not apologize when my only sin was being too similar to a Trabajador.
