Taste (H.S. / A.U.)

Chapter 7

ELOISE DUPONT

I check another thing off my never ending to-do list while a podcast drowns on in the background. In another life I am sitting in a café in Paris, eating a baguette that is lightly toasted with a brie cheese and apricot jam spread and actually listening to the podcast and enjoying what is being said, but today is not that day. Today is a day where I am tying up the loose ends while home shortly before heading off for the real portion of the tour. The trip to Louisiana was just a taste and boy was it enough to make me salivate.

I wanted more than anything to make sure that for the next class I would have a perfected menu, because it is the one I know will be torn apart in any setting like a magazine or online article. It's my 'hometown advantage' and I botch it, imagine that. I let out the deepest breath from somewhere buried deep in me that I didn't realize I had held in, one that resides so internally that once gone you feel empty and have to blink away the faintness that replaces the heavy weight you just expelled.

I look at the list again and try to see what my best plan of action is to get everything done today without running myself wild. I showered bright and early, putting my hair into braids to hopefully give it some body and life without having to style it today or tomorrow, because I will sleep in them like this, saving myself one step. One last bite of an English muffin was scarfed down, not at all a baguette in Paris, before jumping off my stool, almost tripping over Pickle to grab my purse.

I barely mumble out an apology while scooping up my purse and keys to head out the door. Since it is one of the few last days off in my own city, dressing up is not something I need to do, so wearing a pair of white capri workout pants, a burgundy red top from NYU, and some matching red sneakers made me look chic enough to be considered put together, but actually comfortable enough to know it's just a vibe.

I like walking through New York. I like hearing the sounds of the city, seeing the bustle of the people, and knowing that you are just one small person while everything else is going on around. It makes sense to me somehow in my mind, because it puts it into a perspective of teaching my anxiety to allow things to slow down. A mother is teaching her child the importance of crosswalks, a girl is giggling while telling her friends about a boy she has a crush on, and a dog is tugging at a leash begging to walk at an unnatural speed. I love seeing everything happening around me, while I can leisurely stroll through the streets minding my own. I used to find it lonely, because I thought no one in a city can make friends, find love, or settle down with a life, but that was just the loss of my life talking. I have Jade, Harper, dad, Ricky, Pickle, and mom. Mom's with me everywhere, or at least that is what I have been told my whole life.

I was worried that things would be put on hold when Chase left, and that I wouldn't be able to move on with anything. I had people give fake smiles, false apologies of feigned sincerity while I refused to sleep and the silence in my life grew stronger. Then one day, everything changed. I took my life back, and I realized my life was mine again. I stopped feeling sorry for myself, and remembered how much I really was unhappy with my life, and how now I had the power to fix it, and this was the time. I spent every opportunity after that to try to embrace the differences to change things. During all of this, I started walking, mornings were my favorite time for it. I would take a walk to a café for a tea and snack to work on something new, or just to grab a bite for Jade and I. That taught me how much I loved the city.

I almost bump into the jogger on my right while crossing the street but swerve in time, narrowly avoiding another couple. The whole space was crowded, just like I like my city, full of everything to see so that I have a million and one things to focus on... things that aren't my life.

The cold rush of air from the market hits me the moment the doors slide open and a small ding in the background rings through the space. The owner shouts out a hello to me, and once they pop a head above the aisle and recognize me I hear the pitter-patter of feet rushing towards me.

"Oh Miss Eloise! How are you today! I thought you were gone on your adventure! Paris, London, Madrid, Tokyo, Austria, all the places! Are you excited!" She clasps her hands around mine and beams a smile with wrinkles covering every space between that to her ears. Her name was Rudainah but so many people had mispronounced it over the years she just tells everyone to call her Rudy. She has thick black hair always roped tightly into a bun with thick gold hoops laced into her ears. Beautiful golden eyes laced with kohl liner, and the most intricate henna patterns across her hands that change every few months. I met her when I moved into the apartment and she became one of my favorite people to know instantly.

Rudy loved hearing about creations I would make, and even more when I would show her pictures or bring her little containers of it to try. Her husband had passed away about three years ago and all three of her children were older and moved away. Rudy said she had a 'simple life' and just loved to have regulars in the shop to converse with. I became just that.

I couldn't help but smile in reply to the adorable less than five foot tall woman in front of me, "well, not all of those places, but close enough. I haven't left yet. I actually have a class here in the city first. Which of course means I need a little help. So I wondered, would you please help me out Rudy? I have a small list, and I need it by tomorrow, and I need it delivered if possible to the location where my class will be taking place. Here's the thing, I can pay for it all today, and a bonus will be that tomorrow you can attend the class for free of charge while I mention to the class that you were the reason class succeeded without a hitch. Essentially I changed my plan of what I want to make, and now I am falling in a hole because I have the wrong ingredients. Can you help a girl out here?"

Her smile didn't even falter, instead she plucked the list with small crimson nails and fingers bedazzled with numerous golden rings and started studying. Her eyes scanned the words while her brows furrowed and she hummed small noises to herself. "This one," she points to the line of habaneros, "how many do you consider a bundle my dear? Because I order them by cases and I'd say that's about thirty or so when I grab a case. Is that too many or too few? I am so sorry, I have no idea."

We mull over the details for a little bit longer and luckily for me, Rudy saves the day and my class. Once I know things are squared away I feel so much better. If the first class would have blown up in my face, then imagine how ridiculously bad this would have started the entire tour.