My (38) wife, Eleanor (36F), had a long-standing competition with her older sister, Lucy (41F) about who was the better cook. I remember hearing their stories about what they used to cook for their family and about when they almost burned the house down. They used to always take turns to cook feasts for family gatherings, and I always remember one of them always criticizing the food the other made. They also always flooded the family group chat with pictures of what they created with lots and lots of critique. It was always friendly, though.
Anyways, seven months ago, Lucy caught on fire after messing with oil while cooking, leaving her to have third degree burns all over her body. She eventually succumbed to her injuries. My wife took this hard, harder than anyone else in the family. Lucy was Eleanor’s best friend, and she and Lucy were closer than anyone else in the family. Like I said before, they were always competing to see who was the better cook. After Eleanor heard the news of Lucy’s death, she wouldn’t stop crying. Through her sobs, though, I heard her make an oath to never stop cooking in Lucy’s honor.
She kept that oath.
Ever since Lucy’s death, she cooked elaborate dishes for me and my son, Jack (10M). I think she was in some sort of psychotic frenzy, though, because she always cooked one extra dish. When she first did this, I asked her about it, with a mumbled “Lucy needs to eat, too” response. I think she was just grieving her death. Jackson wanted to try some, too, and when it became leftovers, he tried reaching in the fridge. Eleanor yelled at him for this, insisting that it’s Lucy’s. She was passionate about cooking for Lucy, and I didn’t want to interrupt her grief, so I just took her side.
That dish ended up rotting in the fridge, leaving me with one hell of a mess.
This habit continued for a while, with each dish getting more and more elaborate. She made beef tartare, chicken curry, spicy pork bulgogi, and dishes I’ve never even heard of, always leaving one extra dish for Lucy that’s just left in the fridge. For some reason, though, Eleanor took all of her time for cooking food. She ended up getting fired from her job as a banker for this, leaving me having to work overtime. During this overtime, I used to take Lucy’s food and give it to my coworkers. Taking Lucy’s food and working overtime left Eleanor really mad that she couldn’t see me enjoy her food. I tried telling her that if she continues this cooking habit, I’ll have to pay for the ingredients somehow.
This was a problem, though. Our sex life suffered a lot because I was always at work, and when I wasn’t, Eleanor was busy cooking food. I almost forgot what her touch felt like. I tried hugging her while she cooked, but she always shoved me off, saying I’ll mess up the food and Lucy would be mad. This got to a point where I recommended her getting therapy because she always mumbled about Lucy and cooked for Lucy. She yelled at me for this, saying “Do you want Lucy to be hungry? Do you want Lucy to criticize my cooking?” I immediately backed off, but I did forget what she felt like.
This cooking frenzy got to a point today where Jackson wasn’t home from school. I asked Eleanor about this, and she mumbled something about daycare. When she was done cooking, I noticed Jackson still wasn’t home, and he didn’t have a meal set out. I asked Eleanor, and she mumbled “What do you think the meat is?” I saw pork with a lot of fat on it. That’s when I realized: this wasn’t pork. This was Jackson.
I yelled at my wife, telling her she needs to get help. I threatened to call the police when she then pulled a knife on me, yelling “Do you want Lucy to enjoy you too?” I froze out of fear. I backed off super fast and hid in my room. I’m typing this while hiding. What do I do with Eleanor? I want to call the police, but they’ll make it so she can’t cook anymore. She’ll go nuts if she can’t cook. I’m scared she’ll cook me next, though. I just wish I had the Eleanor who cooked against her sister and not for her. I’m scared. What do I do?