For the Love of Caviar

Part 1

Bank Teller John Low dragged his feet as he made his way home on the Mass Rapid Transit. He prepared himself for the long train ride, leaning lamely on the grab bars to avoid inertia. The crowded carriage he was on gained ground. 

The 30-year-old’s head dropped. He was exhausted. Work had become drudgery, something one did to fill financial gaps or pass the time.

John wanted ever so badly to improve his lot in life. He was tired of the rut he was in. He gazed at the crowd filling the carriage at each station the would train went to. A comfortable luxury BMW would allow him to avoid the rush hour crowd and offer him some respite from mundanity. 

John, still single, lived with his father in a small, two-room public housing apartment. The old man cleaned food court tables for a living, a fact that made John cringe. 

Part 2

As the train pulled away from the station,the stations, John pulled out a copy of the daily newspaper. A full-page advertisement caught his eye. 

It was for Chez  Lawrence, a pricey restaurant John wished he could afford. It’s speciality? Caviar. 

John wanted to taste the eggs of the sturgeon at least once in his life but it was something that would stretch his meagre salary beyond its limits. Sighing, he stuffed the offending paper in his bag and got off at his destination. 

Part 3

John’s father, Low Kian Pheng, waited eagerly for his son’s return. The humble, older man had finished work for the day and laid out the simple ingredients for a family meal – eggs, a small chicken and leafy vegetables that he had bought from the market the previous day. His wife used to do the housework and shopping, but had sadly passed away from breast cancer that the family could not afford to treat. 

Saliva frothed at the sides of his mouth as he smelled the chicken soup he prepared. It was simple – he didn’t have the money to add abalone or ginseng. But it was still aromatic and hearty. For sure, John would appreciate his efforts. 

The younger man opened the door to the humble abode. He glanced at his father and gave him a cursory nod. 

“Boy, I prepared dinner,” he announced. John’s response was curt. “I’m going out.” With that, he ignored his father and donned the only pair of Levi’s jeans he owned. He threw on a tee-shirt and banged the front door shut. 

The older Mr. Low sighed and sat in front of the television with a bowl of his simple but heartwarming soup. The reaction was an expected one; his son hadn’t had a meal with him since his wife passed six months earlier. The young man resented his poor social standing and inability to fund his mom’s treatment. Still, he hoped the boy would come around one day. 

Part 3

As luxury-loving as John was, he was diligent. His supervisor nudged him one day. 

“Hey, I’ve got some news you’d like,”

Disinterestedly, John looked up from counting the bills in his hand. “So what is it – you finally asked Sally out on a date.”

“Hey, my love life’s not your concern! But the news I have does concern you, though. You’re soon going to be minding people like I am – the bank’s hired a few new tellers, and it selected you as their supervisor!”

John nearly flew out of his seat. Finally, a promotion after 4 years at the bank. Maybe – just maybe – he could afford a meal at Chez Lawrence. He quickly sent a text to his girlfriend, Mindy, with the good news. Caviar didn’t seem so far away. 

Part 4

John and Mindy show up at Chez Lawrence where a long line of foodies greet them. 

“Hey, I’m hungry. We’ll have to wait an hour at least,” Mindy petulantly crosses her arms and presses her Gucci bag tightly to her side. “Not to mention that I’ll have to watch my valuables.”

“Hey, it’s Chez Lawrence. What could you expect?” John’s eyes train the long line. “We can only hope it’ll move faster.” The young man was determined to taste caviar at least once.

Mindy snorted and dragged her comb through her well-rebonded locks.

His eyes landed on someone familiar and he groaned. His father stood just before him in the line. 

Please…please don’t let him turn back, he prayed fervently. 

But Older Mr. Low did. “Boy, what’re you doing here? I had nothing to do, so I just wanted to try this place out.” 

“Dad, why waste your effort? They’re not going to let you in anyway. Look at the way you’re dressed.” Mindy looked the older man up and down, taking in his bermudas and tattered tee-shirt. She sniggered quietly. 

 When they finally reached the front of the line, John locked eyes with the Maitre’d. “I think you can let us in first. He’s not dressed for this fine establishment.” He almost waved his father away. 

The Maitre’d gave the line a professional smile and made an announcement. “Everyone, thanks for your patience, but the restaurant’s full. We can only take in one more person for now, ” He turned to Old Mr. Low and gently guided him into the establishment. 

John stood, his jaw open, though it wasn’t to swallow caviar. Mindy, having grown impatient, had left him standing alone. She had gotten a friend, Bob, to pick her up in his new, red Porche.