Letters to Audrine

8- We Never Got The Chance

"So now, we just have to roll out the dough and layer it with butter," Audrine tells me as she slaps the dough down on the kitchen counter. When I came to visit Audrine, she had expressed that she has a new croissant recipe she'd like to try and I was eager to spend time with her, so I asked if I could help.

"How many times do I fold it over?"

"Fold it into thirds like a brochure, and then roll it out. You just need to do it five times," She instructs me as she hands me a roller.

I begin doing as she instructed, starting by rolling the dough out into a flatter shape.

"Charlie used to love my croissants," Audrine tells me with a faint smile on her face. "And he'd try to help make them, but he was pretty useless at it."

"Yeah, I never saw him cook anything a day in his life," I say with a laugh. My grandma loves to cook, so their relationship worked really well that way. After they divorced, my grandpa hired a personal chef to help him cook his meals. He always had a lot of money, but wasn't ever one to flaunt his wealth. He always said he felt weird hiring somebody to cook for him, but if he didn't, he would have been ordering takeout way too often, so my mom convinced him to do it.

"How is your tattoo healing?" she changes the subject. I guess that she thinks the dough is rolled out enough, because she places a flat slab of butter on the dough and I know that it's time to start folding. A process she called laminating the dough.

"Pretty well. It doesn't hurt, but it is starting to scab," I glance down at the two-day old tattoo on my arm.

"It looks nice. Silas said that you handled it well, which is more than I can say for him. I was there when he went in for his first tattoo and he whined like a baby the whole time," she tells me as she's mixing some more dough.

"Really?" I can't help but laugh at the thought of Silas whining about getting his tattoo. Not because imagining him in pain is funny, but it is kind of adorable in some weird way. It makes him more human in my mind whereas until now, he's been more of a perfect deity that floats above the rest of us mortals.

"He likes to act tough, but he's such a baby," she says with a laugh.

"Does this look good?" I ask her for her opinion on how I've folded the dough. Once she gives me her approval, I continue to roll it out.

"I'm thinking this batch will be maple walnut. And then the next one, maybe we'll try cherry chips," Audrine starts to brainstorm different croissant flavors.

"That sounds good. My grandma makes this amazing chocolate cherry chip banana bread," I try to be helpful in the conversation. "It's one of my favorite things."

"Banana," she repeats me. "That's interesting."

I'm suddenly nervous because if she uses my idea and it's bad, I'll feel guilty for wasting her time and ingredients. But I want to be helpful, so I don't stop her from going with it.

"Did you ever write my grandpa?" I ask her curiously as I continue to roll out the dough and she prepares the next batch in the stand mixer of the restaurant's kitchen.

"I didn't have his address," she answers me. "The plan was that he'd write me first, I'd get his address from that to be able to write him back. I just didn't even think of the thought that the letters wouldn't get to me."

"Can I ask you another question?" I ask her.

"Of course, dear."

"Do you think that you and my grandpa were soulmates?" I blurt out my question. "I know you only knew each other for a few months, but I think he loved you until the day that he died. He never stopped."