With the Fire on High(43)
I nod at her and let go of her hand. “I’m not sure if you remember me,” she says. And the moment she says it, I do remember. She’s the chef from the fancy restaurant ’Buela took me to, Café . . . Something?
“After you came to my restaurant I mentioned meeting you to Paul, Chef Ayden, and he could not stop saying how you’re a talented chef-in-training. I was happy to accept his invitation here tonight to try your food. He tells me you were in charge of the menu?”
I nod as if none of this is a big deal, although on the inside I’m a whirl of emotions. For a moment I forget about what money I have left to raise. Chef Ayden was boasting about me? I clear my throat. “Chef Ayden helped me a bit with the menu.”
The woman nods. “The food was delicious. I especially liked the bite of sweet-potato casserole.”
I smile at her. “If you thought that was good you should try an idea I have of adding chili aioli. The spice will layer well with the sweetness.” I realize I’m talking to her as if we are homegirls and immediately blush. I don’t want her to think I’m bragging.
She cocks her head at me. “Well, I’d love to try that one day. I wanted to give my compliments to the chef. Here’s my card. I think what you all are doing here is remarkable. Have a great time in Spain.”
She gives me the small square of cardstock. Lisa Williams, Owner and Executive Chef, Café Sorrel.
She gives me a little nod and moves in the direction of Chef Ayden. I stare at the card in my palm. I tuck it into my jacket pocket just as I’m swept up by ’Buela.
She hugs me so hard we rock back and forth. “I’m so proud of you, nena! This is amazing. The food was good and everybody looked happy. They all cleaned their plates. I could taste you in the sweet potato. You made those, right? They tasted like you. Even Baby Emma could tell.” I look at the stroller where Babygirl is licking the palm of her hand.
’Buela and I are still rocking on our feet, but she suddenly pulls back. “Oh, I’m being rude. Let me introduce you to someone.”
Behind her is a short, skinny man with one of those old-school fedora hats. He has glasses, and a huge mustache, and the sweetest eyes. “This is Joseph Jagoda. He works at Dr. Burke’s office. I went there to pass out flyers last week. The office made a donation!” I smile at Mr. Jagoda.
“Thanks so much for supporting us.” It seems Julio’s grassroots efforts have inspired ’Buela.
Then I’m being hugged up by Angelica, and Julio’s barbershop friends each give me daps and pat me on the back.
Babygirl smiles in her stroller and shakes her sticky hand at me. I break away from everyone and pick her up, letting her sweet baby scent ground me. I don’t know how I’ll get the rest of this money, but I know that I did more for this single day than I ever thought possible, and that’s something to be proud of.
Hook, Line, and Sinker
My classmates are all still hyped the next day when we arrive at school. I’m glad that for the first time in a month and a half none of us have early shifts for the rest of the week.
Chef tried to cancel our lunches entirely. He told us he announced it at a staff meeting that after the Winter Dinner he’d be pulling the program, but the other teachers threw a fit, so restaurant lunches will start back up in the new year on Tuesdays and Thursdays. Anyone who shows up early to cook gets extra credit, and anyone who shows up to serve gets to keep their tips. And since I need extra money and extra credit I will be showing up as often as I can.
When we got home after the dinner, I asked ’Buela if she could lend me the money for the trip’s final deposit; I’ll put in a double shift at the Burger Joint to pay her back. But she told me she’d already spent her last disability check on bills and Christmas gifts for family back home. Not to mention, she donated the night of the Winter Dinner. She offered to return the gifts or ask a friend for help, but the look in her eyes was so sad and ashamed I patted her arm and told her I’d work it out. I thought about asking Julio for it, but when I was telling him about the dinner he cut me off to say that I inspired him and he’s sponsoring a holiday block party to raise money for the local school. I knew he’d say educating the undereducated is more important than traveling to Europe, and I wouldn’t even be able to argue.
I push these thoughts away as I’m cleaning my station. Malachi comes over and leans his elbows near my burners. “Hey, Santi. I have a hookup to some tickets for the Disney On Ice show this weekend. You wanna go?”
“Since when do you have Philly hookups?”
He smirks. “Is that a yes?”
He’s standing close to me and I wonder how he can smell so good when we’ve been sweating and dealing with food all class. “I don’t know, Malachi. I don’t really date like that, and this sounds like a date.” I wipe my area, making sure not to get too close to my burners or to Malachi—both would probably leave me singed.
“See, that’s the thing, though, this wouldn’t be a date,” he says and smiles wide, showing off all his teeth. “I can get a couple of tickets. You can invite Angelica, her girlfriend, bring little queen Emma. Even your abuela can come if that will get you to say yes.”
Dang. Malachi knows just how to get to me. Hooking up my entire family with tickets to something we’ve always seen in commercials but never in real life puts a lump in my throat. I finish with my station and grab my bag from the cubby. I clear my throat. “That’s really nice of you, Malachi. It means a lot to me. I could use some fun. What day?”