Accidental Housemate

29: learning

I stopped standing at the shoreline
afraid of the ocean,
and finally let love
pull me under.

LEARNING

. . .

I felt the rush of a new beginning surge through my veins as the restaurant opened its door for the first day. The moments to come would be unforgettable.

The owners had made sure to hand out advertisements a week before, and their son worked on making them a nice social media profile to spread the word. When the first customer came inside, everyone somehow shared the same feeling of excitement.

A month went by faster than I expected. Customers continued to come and go, but they always came back for more, and they advertised the place by word of mouth. I started having most of my meals where I worked, which saved me time and awkwardness with Courtney.

She and I barely spoke, barely shared meals together. She slept out many times, or I simply never noticed her come in and out.

For the first time in a while, I felt on track with my plans, living a normal life without a filthy job or the pressure from the flat. It was a foreign feeling to me.

That was what normality tasted like.

I hoped everyone who had it appreciated it as much as I did; it was the greatest dream for someone like me.

The lady’s cooking at the restaurant was fantastic, to say the least. With every dish I tasted, I thanked God for not rejecting her offer. She’d already taught me so much in a month. I couldn’t wait to learn more as I worked with her.

“Okay, I served the table. Now tell me again, what’s the secret to a well-poached egg?” I asked as I leaned over the counter, a towel hanging from my shoulder.

She chortled. “I bet you never thought you’d like the chef assistant side of your job more than waitressing when you took the offer, did you?”

I smiled. “No. I’m learning so much from you, and it feels as if I’m reconciling all the time I lost not learning how to cook. I always knew it’s an essential skill. I just didn’t know where to start.”

She nodded. “Well, Perrie, the secret behind cooking any tasty food is to put love into it. There’s a difference between doing it as a job and having a passion for it. You might find that cheesy, but it really makes a difference. I’ve tasted it. When we cook with love, we nail the details much better.”

I often remembered my mother whenever she said that. My mother’s food used to taste so much better when I was younger, but when I grew up and reached adulthood, and my family’s circumstances started getting worse, it reflected in her cooking—if she ever did any.

The lady closed the pot and walked closer to me. “Why the long face suddenly?”

I sighed. “I remembered my family. Not a nice memory.”

“I’m sorry about your loss, honey. I hope you find a motherly figure in me at least, even though I’m this old.”

“I still can’t believe you’re sixty. You look forty-five at most.”

She giggled, twirling a strand of her white hair around her index finger. “Self-care and a cosy life, honey.”

We continued cooking and serving as more customers came. The last hour before my shift ended, an idea came to me.

I couldn’t wait any longer to try again with Dave. I knew I was all about giving him time, but I also feared we’d forget without forgiving if I didn’t find the balance.