The Heat of Becoming

It was the hottest day of the year; temperatures reached over one hundred degrees. Nicolette had the air conditioning in her one-bedroom apartment blasting at full force. Her dirty blonde hair wrapped in a messy bun, her cut-off jeans fitting her for the first time in a year, and a t-shirt, she last wore in college, was the wardrobe of choice. Things that were a part of who she was before the marriage started- let alone ended.

Tucker Groves had been her high school sweetheart. They had grown up together practically their whole lives. It was the natural next step to say yes when he proposed. Nicolette loved him and he loved her...loved...key word. Clearly, that love ended the day he met Maggie Leeland. Nicolette trusted him with every part of her heart and soul. Despite trying, she couldn’t forget the day she found out about his secret life. Attempting to surprise him for lunch at work last summer, she caught him and Maggie in the crime. He admitted he had been living in the affair for six months. Dumbfounded. Shocked. Stupid. A mix of emotions for the man she gave up everything for.

“I gave up Paris for him” she said to her cat Snickers. “I chose LSU instead of the Culinary Institute of America, cut off ties with Jessica and Maryann, declined job opportunities... oh, Paris, you would have been an amazing adventure” she continued to herself as she stared at the finalized divorce papers she’d just received.

It was the hottest day of the year, then, too.

She had a love/hate relationship with the heat now. Sure, she credited it partially for the destruction of her marriage. Yet, in the months that followed, she also credited it, partially, with helping her heal and come to the realization that she lost Nicolette in Tucker. “It’s all good though, Snickers. This is a fresh start. A chance to figure out who I am as me, and not as Tuck’s...anything.” Hearing a knock at the door, she stood, stopping to check herself in the mirror. “Now if I only knew how to begin that process” she said aloud to her reflection.

“Girl, don’t you worry about it at all” Jessica said barreling right through her best friend. “We’ve got margarita’s, tacos, wine, cheesecake, and David’s working on single guys that don’t suck as we speak” Maryann continued following right behind Jess. “Thank God, you guys don’t hate me because I love hanging out but...what’s with all the liquor?!” “Heartbreak repair...we know today is the day the papers were getting delivered. We wanted to make sure you knew we loved you” Maryann replied. Glancing up and down at Nicolette, Jessica added “no matter how sweaty you are.” They all laughed. Pouring out a glass of margarita, Nicolette felt grateful her friends forgave and forgot. She knew she had a support system and that felt good.

“I’m good, ladies. Seriously. But I will enjoy a margarita, and you can help me figure out who I am now.” “This is my area of expertise” chimed Maryann. As the other divorcee in their group, she understood what her friend was going through and, unknowingly, preparing to face. “Yes. I’m all ears chick. First, please call off your brother. I’m not ready to dive into dating...yet” Nicolette declared. Hours passed as the three laughed, cried from laughing, and brainstormed like the boss women they were. That night, Nicolette dreamt of all the possibilities that her life could have been. Feeling, for the first time in a long time, excited about a new adventure.

The next morning, she woke up and decided she was going to pick up jogging again. She had recently found her old jogging clothes, and they still fit four years later which excited Nicolette. She had felt forced to stow them when Tucker said jogging was unbecoming of a woman who was married to a man of his status in the community. “Here’s to the second first day of Nicolette Thomas” she said putting them on and bouncing out of her front door.

Three miles later, she slowed, her body reminding her she was not twenty-four anymore. As she continued walking, she passed a bodega with a fan whirring in the doorway. Then, a group of kids chasing each other with water guns, their laughter sharp and free. Nicolette envied them- their ease, their unburdened joy. When had she last felt like that? That’s when she started thinking of her grand-mère. Céline Dubois was her paternal grand mother, and the reason she fell in love with cooking as a child.

Suddenly, an amazing aroma drowned her nostrils in pleasure. “Ratatouille” she said to no one in particular. She looked around and saw that a new French restaurant opened in the neighborhood. “I know what I want to do.” Nicolette declared to herself.

Finding a second wind, she jogged back to her apartment. The sun was lower now, its heat softening. Her legs ached, her skin glistened more than she’d prefer, but she felt lighter and giddy. Thoughts of life as a single woman did not cause fear anymore. The openness of possibility felt like a blank canvas, waiting for her to paint it with her own colors.

After grabbing a shower and getting into her favorite Nirvana t-shirt, another Mr. Groves disapproval that had been hidden away, she popped open her laptop while Snickers purred next to her on the couch. “Snickers,” she said to her furry companion, “I’m applying to the CIA and becoming a chef.” She typed on her keyboard and sent her browser to the institute’s website. The process seemed easy; application, fee, essay, transcripts, and a letter of recommendation. She worked through the night and into the earliest hours of the morning. At six am, she finished and rewarded herself with a cup of cafe au lait while she watched the sunrise. Even if she didn’t get accepted, she was proud of herself for taking this step.

The days passed and the blazing heat continued. She picked up a position at Cafe Bouchon, the restaurant near her apartment she found a few weeks prior, as a server. The owner, and head chef, Clayton Beaumont was more than happy to give her a chance. He even helped her with her cooking, especially after he found out they would have graduated from the CIA together- had she gone.

Three weeks later, Nicolette’s phone dinged informing her of a new notification. She had just finished a closing shift at the restaurant and was walking out with Clayton. She pulled her phone out of her back pocket and caught her breath.

“Are you okay?” Clayton asked.

“It's here.” she replied.

“You’ve got this.” he encouraged.

She tapped her screen and opened the email but nervously pushed the cell phone towards Clayton before seeing anything. Clayton kept composure and read out loud “Dear Ms. Thomas, we are pleased to inform you that you have been selected to attend classes at the Culinary Institute of America beginning this Fall” Nicolette screamed with delight as Clayton hugged her.

“Congrats” he exclaimed before kissing her. Out of nowhere, the rain began to fall, and the heat broke instantly; vanished, as if it was never there to begin with.

Mrs. Tucker Groves was dead. Ms. Nicolette Thomas was alive, thriving, and ready to chase her dreams.