OFF THE RECORD (First Person)

11. Realization

August 2014

Erica

I followed my grocery list rigorously. I walked thru the aisles, humming the old songs that played from the speakers. This was my relaxation time, after going to school, and just before getting to work. Not my actual job, but a side one. I had to make a big order of empanadas and hojarascas.

Besides, Memo would be coming over. Usually, when we had the day off, Memo would cook for both of us at his house every Friday. But today, I wanted to get an early start on the order I had for the following night.

As soon as I arrived home, I put on my baking apron, and my thick hair up in a high ponytail. I started cooking white rice, which would go together with some chicken chipotle. Something simple, but delicious, to be able to follow thru with the desserts.

Memo arrived carrying a couple of bottled sodas, sitting on a stool in the kitchen island. His hair was still wet, combed to the side, for he had taken himself to the gym and showered before coming in. He wore a grey anti drip shirt and a pair of black basketball shorts and tennis shoes.

His small eyes smiled as he saw me trying to do everything at once.

I was making a lot of noise, taking out the pots and pans that I stored in the oven.

"Mother said hi. Father is getting late from work and Amanda is out with a friend, so my house would be more peaceful than yours for once." Memo remarked.

"Invite her over. I can make enough food for all of us." I answered, while I stirred the chicken around the pan.

I appreciated Mrs. Lucia. She had always been nice and welcoming to me. I didn't want her to think I was avoiding her today. Even if we knew each other for years, the concept of a regular and healthy family was still new for me.

"I think she said she was going to enjoy her freedom today. What a way to tell me she can't wait for me to get out of the house." Memo buffed out.

I chuckled at his comment.

A few minutes later, I pulled out a griddle to heat up some tortillas. I preheated the oven and turned off the stove.

I made a plate for Memo, who happily started eating. Whenever I began a task, I didn't like to get off track, until I finished it. Memo knew that, so he ate his food without remorse.

"I don't think so." I added. "When Tommy left to New York she didn't take it so easy. I can't imagine how she would feel when her baby boy leaves the nest."

I got all the ingredients for the desserts ready.

I had started to bake since I was in high school, following recipes I found on the internet to the dot, to earn extra money.

I first sold the empanadas to Regina's mother, Mrs. Julia, who would sell them in her taqueria.

I had so much demand that some customers would order in big quantities, for parties or special occasions. Mrs. Guadalupe, Perla's mother, had also been responsible for spreading the word to the people she knew, so I had plenty of extra work.

I couldn't always make the orders. It depended on my classes or my actual job as a nurse to be able to see if I could squeeze some time to do them. But as soon as I had a window, I would take advantage to get stuck in the kitchen.

This time, I was in charge of making two hundred pumpkin empanadas and five hundred hojarascas for a quinceañera.

Memo snorted. "Yes, but that was because he left far away." He spoke in mouthfuls. "She's going to be able to see me whenever she wants. I'm not planning on leaving the city. At least not for a little while."