"Ms. Collins, have you thought about expanding your business?
"I have thought about it, but I wouldn't know where to start. I don't want to use my father's position as leverage. But almost every organization I have called already has a contract with someone else."
"Are you looking locally or outside the city?"
"I tried both, with no luck."
"Mm... What are your main dishes focused on? Sweet, spicy, salty, Mediterranean, Eastern, or Mexican, perhaps? Depending on your main focus will depend on the organizations that will hire you. Some help those in need and need healthy meals; others are for people with diabetes, children, or prisoners. Who is your target audience?
"To be honest, it never occurred to me to see it that way. You have tried my cooking what is your opinion?
"Your food is delicious indeed, but it's a combination of many cultures. You even combine some dishes, but to be honest, you lack vision."
"How so?"
"For starters, as I mentioned before, since you combine foods, why not make something original? Let's take Mexican food, for example; each state, each region has its own spice. Some foods are the same but use different ingredients" he continued to explain how I should explore each flavor, each spice. He is correct; parts of Mexico use different ingredients to make the same dish.
Each region has its own tastes. The problem is knowing where to start.
Finally arriving at the Cortez residence, I knocked on the door, and behold, Mr. Cortez welcomed me in.
"I apologize for being late; I was busy with another client."
"There's no need to apologize; I'm the one who is early. Let me introduce you to my mother."
An older woman came walking down the hallway. Her semi-gray hair told me she's about forty-five, but her weak face said she's sixty. A reflexion of her disease.
"Hello Mrs. Cortez's I'm-"
"Esmeray is that you? You have grown so much"
With a nervous chuckle, I looked over at Mr. Cortez, who was trying not to look at me. Does she know me? How does she know my first name?" Esmeray is my first name; Verena is my middle name. My sisters call me Valerie, my mother's name. I have people use my middle name because it is close to my mother's name.
"Do I know you?"
"You don't remember me? Emanuel, she doesn't remember us. Tell her, explain to her who we are. We used to be neighbors on Oak Street. You and my son went to school together. You two had crushes on each other but never confessed."
Oak Street? I remember living in a small town with my grandparents. My parents had me live there to enjoy a simple life. I remember going to school and having a crush on a kid until high school. Could it be him?
"I'm sorry, I don't remember you."
"How could you? You left town soon after high school. Later, we learned who you really were: a wealthy girl who had a crush on my son. Here's a picture."
I silently gasped. There I was, wearing what I thought was a cool black shirt and bright green pants with pink flowers, paired with sandals. What was I thinking back then? Next to me was a chubby kid wearing sports shorts and a Teenage Mutant Ninja Turtles shirt. Memories of my childhood rushed back to me.
Soon I remembered everything. But why had I forgotten?
"Omg, I remember. You used to hang out with Luis, Kevin, Mike, and... what's his name?
"Isaac."
"Yes, gosh, I am so sorry I didn't recognize you." How could I? He changed completely; not only did his face clear up, but he also lost a lot of weight."
"Can't blame you; my son has changed so much. And I hear you will be cooking for me?
"No, actually, an employee of mine will. For now, I will be bringing meals over. And here's our first one: potato soup with cornbread and our homestyle salad."
"Sounds good. Emanuel, help her, won't you?" While Mr. Cortez helped me, his mom set up the table. Even though I said I recognized him, I don't feel comfortable acknowledging him as a friend or even an acquaintance.
My question to myself is why I didn't recognize him. It's true I had a huge crush on him back then; I even confessed in a letter.Gosh that was so stupid of me. What did I see in him? His smile? His eyes? Or was it that I never noticed him, and one day I did?
"So how have you been after all these years?"
"Huh? Oh, good. I've been good, and you?" I asked, not really interested in knowing. I don't mean to be rude, but I really don't care about him. I had a major childhood crush, yes, but it was never love. Not the same as I had for my dearest love.
"I've been doing amazingly well. Even more now," he replied, trying to get closer to me, but before he could, I grabbed the plates and took them to the table where Mrs. Cortez was.
"Here's your meal. For the following days, I will be stopping by to drop off your dinner at four. From then on, someone will be coming to cook for you. I will excuse myself—"
"Will you not stay?" asked Mrs. Cortez, a sad expression slowly taking over her face. I don't know what she expects of me. We may know each other, but I have a contract to follow.
"No. To be clear, and with respect, we have a contract. The rules are clear and will not be broken. It was nice meeting you, Mrs. Cortez, Mr. Cortez."