If Only...

TAKING IT WITH A PINCH OF SALT

A couple of splashes of cold water was supposed to make you feel better.

It didn't.

Why? . . .

He had asked me out a couple of years ago and I had turned him down and that was the end of that. I had told him it was because we weren't allowed to date co-workers but the real reason boiled down to trust. But why now? Why after Danny? Did I even mean what I had said? And then there was that thing about being happy . . .

Am I really happy?

A knock on the door disturbs my thoughts.

"Alex, Ian wants to talk to you."

I sigh and then take a deep breath, crossing my fingers.

Please be good news.

Patting my face dry, I regain the decorous look on my face.

I follow Alison into the kitchen, where Leroy is showing Ian around and explaining how things were done around here. Ian was smart. He could point out rookies like that. He and I have always shared the belief that the better you know your kitchen, the better a cook you are (And also know where all the exits are; but I've kept this extension from Ian. Thought it wise).

He finally let Leroy breathe and wipe the sweat off his face, before approaching me.

"Alexandra. . . . The food, marvellous as ever."

You could almost see the the words 'Thank God' come out my mouth when I exhaled.

"Although, I expected it to be better than perfect--you know very well that you are capable of that, Alexandra."

"You tell me everytime you see me, Ian." I nod politely.

"And I shall continue to, until I get your best. We're close."

What! No, no, no! We've bypassed close! Oh, Ian . . .If only you had come the day before . . .

"Absolutely, Ian."

I did it once. I can do it again.

He looks over his shoulder and I can take a breather.

"They're in good hands." I smile in gratitude. He turns to the side and looks like he's just about to part, but instead he turns back to me and walks us down till the end of the kitchen.

"Just another thing, dear. . .Is it true that you're not here for the dinner shift?"

Oh, meat balls.

"Uh . . . yes. But I thought you knew--"

"I recall us talking about it, but I had hoped that arrangement was temporary, Alexandra."

"Oh, well . . . " I rub my neck guiltily. I might've given him that picture that it was temporary.

"Might I ask why? Why some customers I have spoken to found the same dish they ordered in the evening to be tasting different and quote 'slightly bland' from the one in the afternoon?"

People go to the same place for lunch and dinner? I mean, I'm happy that we're getting more customers, but . . . seriously? Who does that?

Someone who wants to tell on me, obviously.

"I have a six-year-old daughter, Ian." I state very obviously.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but isn't anyone there to look after the little one?"

A bunch of faces pass my mind, and then stop at one.

"Well, not exactly. . ."

"Because I want to remind you of how much this used to mean to you, Alexandra." His tone is almost dissatisfied.