Wolfy Chai

A finger slowly ran across the top of a marble China cabinet. “Dusty,” a man said with a groan. The sound of the blinds clattering together, vacuums roaring over the rugs, and laundry churning filled the long, empty halls. A woman dressed like a wannabe Martha Stewart emerged from the bedroom. “Oh, it is Easter, I can’t wait for all the decorations to be set up.” She said with an innocent delight. “It is time to clear the St. Patrick’s Day stuff.” She instructed the maids. They nodded.

Instagram post: “getting ready for Easter #designerbasket #goldeneggs #happyandhealthy.” She sat down at the helm of the enormous, solid Mahogany custom dining room table, turning on the crystal chandelier with her iPhone 18. She got to work assembling flower arrangements for the centerpiece, adding in easter eggs and imported Swiss chocolate. 

Her phone rang. It was Cindy. “Hey girl, how are you?” she spoke with a squeak. “OMG I know, right I can’t find that chocolate we tasted in that private factory tour in Switzerland, I am dying to get my hands on it.” She went on. “I pissed that Cheryl didn’t RSVP to my Sunday brunch. What an inconvenience to me…” She trailed off. The phone hung up. “UGH,” she remarked. Rearranging the seating assignment in her head to account for Cheryl’s unexplained absence. She opened her email and saw a confirmation from her travel agent. “Good News! We have the presidential suite at the Four Seasons, Maldives, booked for you and your husband, Greg!” It read. She took out her reading glasses to make sure she read it correctly. 

Scrolling down, her thumbs got stuck on one minor adjustment. “We could not get a dinner reservation at the Steakhouse for the second night, so we booked you at the Italian place instead.” She proceeded to throw her phone across the table. “Greg! Greg!? Where are you? The travel agent isn’t doing her job. If you want something done right, you just have to do it yourself. Good God. Just so annoying. We are supposed to be going on vacation to relax not manage incompetence!” She shouted. “I will make sure to take care of it sweetie,” Greg replied with a smile. 

A chainsaw ripped. A cloud of wood pulp filled the air. Men covered in dust and dirt worked to harvest a tree, the sweat keeping their eyes nearly shut. A young man went to a nearby stream to wash off. The land that was once a sweeping rainforest became nothing more than a clear-cut field. Wood piles are stacked on each other. The tree was called a mahogany. The man went back home, and he had saved for months to finally get his first lightbulb in their home, which he switched on by pulling a string. 

He went to help his mother, who was outside in the “kitchen” preparing dinner over a small fire. She needed more kindling, so he obliged, gathering sticks together. Mother had the most beautiful smile anyone has ever seen. Her eyes were filled with kindness. “Today we celebrate,” she said, pulling out a loaf of bread, a rare indulgence in this town. His brother and sister came out, and they all sat down on the floor under a tin roof. The four of them sat in a circle and held hands.

“I want to thank God for giving me three beautiful children and a bounty of food for us to eat.” The mother said. Everyone started digging in. Cheerful as could be. While their stomachs might not ever be full, their hearts always remained so.

“And thank you, ma,” the young man said, hugging his mother close. “Ohhhhhh, I just love you; you are such a good son to me.” She replied. “I am always going to be there for our family, no matter what,” He added.