The Wet Rat Finds Home

Putting on an apron each morning for work feels like a warm hug. I had just recently started working at The Big Orange in the grove district. It was the kind of place where you’d expect to see young professionals and moms with their kids kissing daddy goodbye. After a lot of people watching, I noticed a pattern where once the husbands left, the wives joined forces for mimosa(s).

This area of town always felt like home to me when I felt like I'd lost my sense of "home". It was different than growing up in a neighboring city because the drive there was filled with a skyline of the major valley mountains and beautiful flowered trees. Instead of getting coffee from The Big Orange every morning on the way to work, I decided to quit my corporate job and just do something I loved: cooking.

Today was particularly hot so I arrived to work a little sweaty and smelling of the spices that were seeping out of my pores. I fixed my hair and tied on the apron. Goosebumps rose over my body at the excitement of no longer being married to my laptop 70 hours a week. I sprayed deodorant on and walked with the confidence of a lobster into my newfound love of being a fast-paced line cook. No longer a commuter to my old job, I was immediately thrown in to make “the commuter sandwich” for the morning rush.

The way the restaurant worked was displaying an open-kitchen with a bustling bunch of chefs available for the public to walk by and watch as they entered the back door. Because it was so hot today the traffic was slow to walk past our hot griddles. That allowed me a little more breathing room to people watch, which was my training at my prior firm for facial recognition. Coming from forensic anthropology to cooking eggs made me happier than I’d ever been.

Catching a glimpse of myself in the metal reflection of the fridges, I realized that I had already sweat off my makeup and looked mildly like a drowned rat. My mother always said that when you look your worst in public, you’ll see multiple old friends.

Unfortunately I came to realize that this was an omen and premonition would kick in that someone from my past would show up. She told me to marry the man that still loves me when I look like a wet rat out of the shower or pool.

“Excuse me, miss, this was not supposed to have cheese on it, or I’ll be living in the bathroom all day at work,” a voice behind me said.

Twirling around to smile and apologize, my heart sunk. It was my high school sweetheart Evan that I hadn’t seen in 11 years.

Shaking my head to center my racing brain, I refocused on Evan. His eyes lit up like freshly cut green grass. Immediately the smell of our many nights under the stars at the park popped into my nostrils. I never realized that I hadn’t thought through or practiced the line I'd say if by chance I ever saw him again. We were only 21 when we broke up and he wanted to "test drive other cars before he buys one." Over the years I came to realize that he had been right about that.

“Oh I know you can't have cheese. I remember when we’d banish each other to the guest room for the night if either of us ate it, I’ll remake it!” My cheeks turned a rosy red and at this point I was feeling like I was the drowned rat reincarnation of Templeton from Charlotte’s Web. 

One thing I never did well at my old job was the ability to handle my composure when my heart was involved.

He gave me a smile I’ve never been able to forget, saying, “You look more beautiful than back then. How are you?”

Ok, now the open kitchen concept was getting on my nerves. Usually, my calculated and articulated conversations did not spontaneously happen.

“Lovely, yourself?” I asked as I searched my brain for words. Suddenly 12 orders spat out on my station and I prayed I could manage both with 10 people running behind me.

“I am great, I remember your dream was to always work here and live in the Victorian style condos behind it,” He ever so charmingly responded. "Glad it finally came true." He must have stalked my facebook over the years.

Crap. I was already back to the butterflies. Only one man ever surpassed the love I had for Evan but then he turned out to be gay. Just my luck. But it was the best breakup I’d ever had. We did each other’s nails and hugged a sweet goodbye.

After finishing up his breakfast sandwich, I asked him why he was back in town from San Francisco and especially on a 117 degree day. He grabbed his to-go box and began to eat it at the bar in front of my station instead of leaving.

“So, you married? You did always want to live like a country love song and I have to say this fits the bill of how I thought you’d end up,” He spoke with his mouth open and bits of food flying out. Odd habit I hadn’t remembered. I was frantically and systematically getting through 12 batches of scrambled eggs and bacon when a chunk of his sandwich landed on my eggs that were just near finished. I slyly placed them in the trash and re-started.

“Never married,” I glanced to see if he had a wedding ring on. My heart sunk when it was there and it took me right back to the day we broke up. The most memorable moment was crying my eyes out into a pot of steaming mashed potatoes so that his friends that were over couldn't see. “But I see that you are. She’s a lucky girl.”

“Nah I wear this because I just became a GM of a restaurant and for some reason I get hit on enough for it to just be annoying at this point.”

Laughing, I finished my orders and began the next batch. “Congrats, where at?” Realizing that he didn’t answer the question about why he was in town I added, “Not that I know much of San Francisco.”

He smirked in a manner that made me remember why he’s so successful with people management. “The Big Orange. I just moved back.” He smiled again at his coy drop that he was my new boss.

My heart sunk again. No wonder I got the job with no experience. What was my move here? Distracted by trying to frame a response in my head, I turned around and smashed into a coworker carrying a new fresh bowl of salsa. She did her best to catch it, but it splattered all over me and the entire kitchen. Now I was a salsa drenched rat.

He immediately jumped over to help clean up the mess and step in to help manage our respective stoves to not delay orders over the ordeal.

He spent the rest of the day helping our team prep for dinner service with not so subtle sneaks at checking me out. Well shit, did I need to run off into the bathroom and cancel my week of tinder dates?

Learning to cook on the line but also entertain breakfast like a hibachi chef, I began to fall in love with my job and how happy I was. Evan continued to come in and help the over-worked kitchen operate with ease. Weeks and mornings cooking with him felt like home in my soul. But the staff was beginning to grow wary of our odd bond that bounced out of nowhere.

One night I came out to my car with its tires all slashed. It was an incredibly safe neighborhood so I went back into my forensic case manager mindset and deduced that this was personal. I knew one of the girls had a crush on him, but didn't want to seem jealous and blame her out loud. Restaurant politics and sleeping with your coworkers was all too common.

“You ok?” Evan asked when I came back in to change into my Tinder date dress. Shit.

“All good, someone slashed my tires and I’m going to have to bail on a date tonight,” I said with a cringe and wanted to crawl into the pig feed like Templeton used to hide in.

“Date eh? You dating?” He asked as he instructed to me to sit at the bar. “It’s rough out there.”

“You’re telling me?! I got stood up for a plane flight a few months ago. Maybe my standards are too high.”

“Well who set the bar?” He asked.

“The ex of the girl in front of you,” I said with a beet red blush.

“Just park it here overnight and I can pick you up tomorrow. I’ll take you home tonight,” he insisted. It was then I knew I was deleting my tinder app that night.

As is obvious, I never actually went home. Over the next six months we ended up spending almost every night together like it hadn’t been 11 years. The busy hustle and bustle of the bar, picking up bartending shifts, and being busy or with him so often reminded me that home really is where the heart is. Whether that be a person, a job, a place, or in the kitchen – home plays the long game.