I’m ready to explode, tell her about Emma and be done with her bullshit, when one of the remaining onions takes the shape of Felix’s face. “She’s a lot like Dad, huh? He was always a stickler.” I have to take a few deep breaths, clutching the counter, before I’ll allow myself to say anything to Chef.
By the time I look away from the onion, she’s gone. I grip my knife, ready to slam something into bits. What’s left of the onions by my cutting board gets cut so quickly it’s almost like the onions fall apart on their own, not wanting to be subjected to my rage.
I go outside for a breather before shift begins. I run into Emma, and the mere sight of her makes me feel a little lighter. Without thinking much, I reach for her hand.
She smiles at me and then maybe notices the look on my face. “Everything okay?” she asks.
I want to just pull her close and nuzzle my face into her neck. I want to take us both beneath her hostess stand, pressed as close as possible, stifling our laughter so that the rest of the restaurant—the rest of the world—won’t hear us.
Then I remember where we are and I have to let Emma’s fingers go so that our hands drop away. I mouth, Sorry, later at her and then go around the corner to take a seat at one of the patio tables.
The view of the island stretches out in front. Azure sky, perfectly white clouds, hills that could be colored by crayons. The water’s so reflective it’s almost metallic, and it turns the whole world into a mirror image. It’s funny how I’ve already grown to take it for granted. I’m still blown away by it, of course, but I would have imagined the amazement to stick around every moment of the day. Now it’s almost like any other thought, there for a moment before something else takes its place. Chef’s going to find out I’m seeing Emma. Or she’ll realize I’m not actually a cook at all. I can’t be taught. I’m just a runaway, a rich kid playing out a fantasy because he couldn’t handle having a dead brother.
I look at my phone to try to take my mind off things. There’s an email from Danny, asking me how things are going, saying he heard a rumor that I’m in Alaska, hunting grizzly bears. Doesn’t really sound like you, but you’ve been pretty AWOL on social media so who the fuck knows.
There are a few messages from Mom too. Three “how are you”s in a row, which I keep forgetting to answer. It doesn’t really help me feel any better right now. I send an enthusiastic response, hoping it’ll help Mom feel better and maybe hurt Dad a little, show him I’m doing great.
I tuck my phone away. It’s a hot day out, no fog at all, sweat already forming on my forehead. The kitchen’s going to be sweltering. People are going to be on edge and they’ll notice the moment I screw something up, which I probably will at staff meal.
“What the hell am I doing here?” I say, hunched over, eyes on the floor, assuming Felix will make himself known.
“I was gonna ask,” someone says, but it’s not Felix. I look up. Elias has a coffee mug in his hand, and he’s pulling out the chair next to me. “What’s up, man?”
Oh, you know. It’s been six months since my brother died and I still see him everywhere. I’ve been on this island for less than a month, I’m falling in love with a girl who’s on her way out the door and I’m apprenticed to the Soup Nazi of onion cutting.
I shrug, squint at the strong morning sun. I can’t say anything.
Elias actually gives a chuckle, as if he can tell all of this is going through my head. “Welcome to the restaurant world, man. Just ’cause it’s fun doesn’t mean it won’t stress you the fuck out.” He takes a sip from his coffee, puts his feet up on the chair in front of him. I’m still not sure what to say. That weight is pressing down on my chest, and it feels like I’m moments away from another panic attack.
“Let me guess,” Elias says. “Chef is getting to your head a little bit?”
I find it in me to nod.
He chuckles again. “Yeah, she’ll do that.” He reaches over and gives me a friendly smack on the arm. “Don’t worry about her, man. She’s tough, but she wouldn’t be taking time out of her day just to fuck with you.”
“Really? ’Cause that’s exactly what it feels like,” I say. I look back over my shoulder, into the dining room. The only thing I can see is my own reflection in the windows. Emma might be in there, smiling at me, or Chef and Matt might be scowling, hoping for me to have a breakdown. There’s a bad feeling in my stomach, and I try to settle it by looking out at the beauty of my new home. “I’m not getting anywhere with these stupid onions. She’s either an asshole or I’m so bad at this that she’s afraid to let me touch anything else. Maybe I’m not ready.”
Elias full-on laughs now. “Relax, baby. How do you think I got to where I am?” He drinks again and then puts the mug down on the table and crosses his arms behind his head. I think he’s seeing this as a pleasant, quiet moment before the madness of service starts. I wish I could be in the same mind-set. “Listen, man, you’re going to be okay. I’ve tasted your food. You’ve got some skills. But these things take time. They take struggles, you know?
“It wasn’t that long ago that I was in Seattle, watching the business I started fail, all my money in it fuckin’ burning away with each supply order we put in or, worse, each late night partying.” He sighs and reaches for his coffee again.
“Right now you’re at the bottom, and people are gonna give you shit. Trust me, I’ve been there. Everyone in this kitchen who’s more experienced than you has been there too. You think Chef made it easy on me?” Behind us, the patio door slides open and Michelle, the other sous-chef, asks him if he has a minute.
He stands up. “You’re doing fine, man. No one climbs without struggling.”
As soon as he disappears inside, a cloud over the horizon turns itself into Felix. It points in the direction of the restaurant. “That dude’s trying to steal my role. Tell him I’ve got the market cornered on inspirational pep talks.”
What Elias said didn’t magically solve my issues, but I find it in me to laugh, which is an improvement from a second ago. “You wouldn’t have said it like that.”
“Damn straight, I would have said it better.” He flips himself upside down, does a handstand-walk across the horizon. Then he does a little somersault and stands upright again. “But he’s right, you know. It’s not all just going to magically happen all at once. Or has no one ever told you that?” He puts his hands on his hips for a second, chewing on his lip. “Shit, actually, no one really does tell you that, now that I think about it.”