by Hart, Romi
We all looked at Nia, who opened her mouth to speak but said nothing, most likely realizing she had no idea what to say. Jasmine said to her, “Serve them, Nia. It’s okay.”
Jose’s eyes scorched into Jasmine, but her eyes blazed right back at him. Jose was as speechless as all the rest of us. Through clenched teeth, Jasmine quietly said to her father, “Office. Now please.”
Nia scuttled behind us and led us back to our table. “The woman of the house has spoken. Please have a seat. Let me tell you about our specials. Again.”
Jose followed Jasmine back into the kitchen. I guessed that she was taking him back to the buey cave. In my mind, I imagined Jasmine and Jose battling it out under the maturing slabs of meat. I’d never seen Jasmine so angry.
Proud of Jasmine’s grit, I wondered what she was saying to Jose. Nia came out with appetizers: croquettes and cured beef sausage. “Everything is on the house today.” She put the delicious looking plates down on the table.
She gave me a stern look. “Don’t think about leaving money on the table like last time.”
Ronnie looked at me questioningly. “You paid last time?”
I shrugged it off, dismissing it as nothing.
Ronnie shook his head. "I owe you, man. Not this time. But next time. Next time, I totally got you." He rubbed his hands together looking at the food. "Bon appetit!" Perry and Ronnie began to eat, but I couldn't get my mind off Jasmine and her father out back.
Joseph came up to the table. He held a hand out to me. “We weren’t properly introduced last time we met.”
“Alex,” I said shaking his hand.
“Joseph.” Thinking about the family portrait at their house, Joseph looked to me like a perfect blend of his father and mother. He leaned down to me and said, “You know, Jasmine looks a lot like my mom except when she’s angry. She looks like my dad.” He pointed to his eyes and nose. “You know, the eyes and the flaring nostrils.”
I agreed. “Yeah, I saw!” I dropped my voice, “What’s going on back there?”
“She’s got him back in the cave. She’s yelling at him! I can hear it from the kitchen. Told him his behavior was completely unprofessional in front of guests. She even said that it was that kind of unprofessional behavior that leads to yanked Michelin stars.” He thumped his chest. “I know that must have hurt him.” He looked around at the full restaurant. “She’s kind of right though.”
Just then, Jose barreled out of the kitchen like a bull let out of its pen. He barked at Joseph. “I’m out for the rest of the day. Cover the kitchen.”
Joseph and I watched as Jose rumbled out of the restaurant. Joseph put a hand on my shoulder. “Come with me.”
I held a finger up to Ronnie and Perry, who were chowing down on the appetizers. “Be right back.” They seemed to be too preoccupied with the tasty food. No one objected.
Joseph led me through the kitchen to the back of the restaurant. He jerked his head to the door of the buey cave. "She's probably really upset. You should talk to her.”
Looking back at Joseph, I pushed open the door and said, “Thanks, man.”
He nodded his head before rushing back inside the kitchen. “Take care of her.”
In the cave, Jasmine was huddled in a corner, sobbing. I gathered her in my arms. “Are you okay?”
She shook her head, tears falling from her swollen red face. “I’ve never talked to my father like that before.” Wiping under her eyes with her fingertips, her voice cracked. “He can’t act like that! In the restaurant in front of people of all places!” She paused to catch her breath. “I told him that he needed to respect our relationship. You’re the man I love. He needs to understand that!” Her hands flew up pointing at the door. “Then, he just left! Didn't say anything more. Just stormed out!”
I held Jasmine close to my chest while she cried. “It’s going to be okay,” I assured her.
“I’m so terrified, Alex. What have I done?” She buried her face into my chest and wept.
I wasn’t sure what she’d done, but I knew one thing for certain, she was a force to be reckoned with when she was pissed off.
Chapter 16
Jasmine
I don’t know what came over me. In the kitchen, when my dad thundered out to the dining room, I was rendered dumbstruck. My father’s voice was explosive; a bomb detonated suddenly in the middle of lunch.
I came to my senses and rushed out to the dining room to see what was happening, still hoping my ears deceived me. Still hoping my dad wasn’t causing a dreadful scene. Since it was a holiday, the restaurant was crammed full of guests, more than what is usual for our lunch run. It was the worst time for an outrageous display of behavior by the owner of the world-famous restaurant. Not that there would ever be a good time for that.
When I saw my dad yelling at Alex and his friends in front of a full restaurant, I just lost it. The restaurant stood at a standstill as my father towered over Alex’s table, screaming at him. Instantly, I searched the restaurant from face to face, hoping no one was a Michelin judge, food critic, or culinary journalist, who would recount for the media in detail my father’s seemingly erratic and disorderly conduct.
A man in the corner held up his iPhone, recording the entire abhorrent scene. My stomach crunched into itself from mortification. Time seemed to suspend itself as a whirlwind of emotions nearly toppled me over. My father risked the prestige of our restaurant just for the meaningless satisfaction of kicking Alex out.
Why was my father, so hell-bent on breaking Alex and I up at the cost of everything he had worked for?
My body, as if possessed by someone else, charged forward into the melee to face my father. My breath quickened in my agitation. Exhaling felt like I was spewing fire. I rushed to the table to face my father, who looked at me in defiance.
His face tightened in a knot. His look said: ‘Who do you think you are?’
My voice roared with insolence, ordering my father to meet me in the cave. I'd never yelled at my dad before. Dazed eyes looked up at me from their tables. The man in the corner angled his iPhone to get a full shot of me. I scowled at the camera and quickly stomped away with my father following me.
As we walked to the buey cave, anger, frustration, along with mortification bubbled inside me. Once we were in the cave without prying eyes, I couldn’t hold in my muddling emotions any longer.
The monster inside of me wouldn’t let me go. With huge bulky fists, the monster pulled out all my frustrations and anger over the years and crammed them up into my throat. Vile words shot out of my mouth. Words, I instantly regretted and could not take back. My father’s angry face melted away. I could see the tragic hurt in his eyes staring back at me.
Once my father stormed out, the monster shrank away, leaving me alone with myself to face my unbearable actions. My father was still my father. I had crossed the line of disrespect. I knew I’d made him feel insignificant in my life, which was far from the truth.
When Alex came, he scooped me up into his arms. The recollection of my actions made the world spiral around me with violent force. I thought I was going to collapse. As I sobbed, I held onto him tightly, scared the floor would give out from underneath me.
Ashamed, I looked up at Alex. His tourmaline eyes were dimmed with concern. “I told my dad that it was because of him…” A large sob flew up out of my mouth. I could barely speak.
Alex held me tighter. “It’s okay. Let it all out.”
Taking I deep breath, I continued. “I told him he was the reason why we’d never become a three-starred restaurant. I told him that if he hadn’t been so unreasonable and unbearably controlling, my mother would have never left and we would have never lost a Michelin star. I told him he singlehandedly destroyed our restaurant.”
I knew how much the lost star wounded my dad. I shook my head hardly believing I had been so cruel. My dad had worked so hard and cared about his restaurant so much. He cultivated his buey, devoted to the entire process from birth, life, death, cu
ration, and preparation.
My mother disappearing out of our lives wasn’t my dad’s fault. She wanted to go and live another life. Even if she hadn’t wanted to live with my father anymore, she still could have been our mother. She could have called, visited, even wrote us.
Why had I said the worst things possible to my father?
Alex kept hugging me as I continued on. I poured everything out, hoping he wouldn’t think what a terrible person I was, “I said he ruined everything. But I was talking about you and me. How he took something so beautiful between us and tried to destroy it.”
Alex softly spoke into my ear, “He hasn’t destroyed us. I’m still here.”
Bitterly, I looked up at the ceiling at the buey, who witnessed my horrific behavior with my father who had done so much for us. My heart ached. I shouldn’t have lost my temper. Ironically, I’d become an irrational monster overtaken by my emotions, the very thing I was berating my dad for doing.
I clutched Alex fiercely recalling the sadness on my father's face. "He said he’s leaving. Packing up his things. He’s going to disappear like my mother.” I sobbed afraid I’d lost my father forever.
Alex pulled away from me to look at my face. “Leaving?”
I nodded terrified my dad was already back at home packing right at the moment. “He said that we didn’t need him anymore. That the restaurant was ours now. We could take over since he couldn’t do anything right. He said we were better off without him just like my mother.”
Alex’s eyes looked far away, past me. “He said that?”
“Yes. He said he’s going to disappear forever and never come back.” I cried in frustration. “But I didn’t mean any of the things I said. I was just angry and wanted to hurt him. But I think I really hurt him, Alex. I think he is really going to disappear like my mom did.” I shook with my sobs. My hands gripped Alex’s arms. “I don’t know what to do.”
Alex’s arms dropped to his sides. Something I had said struck him. His eyes narrowed in consternation. He turned away from me, pushing his hands into his pockets, searching for his keys. Anxiety panged in my chest seeing Alex’s perturbed look on his face.
Distracted, he put a hand on my shoulder. “It’ll be okay,” he said absently. The look of distress stamped on his face worried me.
Alex put a limp arm around me, hugging me loosely. “I’ve got to go.” The jingle of the keys in his hand clanged as he walked to the door.
The panic brewing inside me grew. “Where are you going?”
Pushing the door open, he was already somewhere else. “I’ve got to take care of something.” He rushed out, not looking back at me.
I crumbled to my knees, burying my face into my hands. What had I done? I’d driven my father away with my anger and my boyfriend with my neediness.
Why did I keep making such enormous mistakes?
I heard the door open. Looking up, I hoped it was Alex, but it was Joseph. He hurried over to me, helping me up. “Are you okay?”
Sniffling, I said sadly, “No. I was stupid, Joseph.”
Looking around, he asked, “Where’s Alex?”
“He left. Just like Dad left.” I bit my lip, holding in another torrent of tears on the precipice.
Joseph looped an arm around me. “Let’s get you inside. You need to drink some water and calm down.”
I let Joseph steer me into the kitchen. He pushed me down onto a stool. Nia brought me a cold glass of water that I could only sip. She smoothed a hand on my forehead. “You look awful.”
I shrugged my shoulders. I felt awful.
She put her arm around me and hugged me. “I’m proud of you though.”
Joseph nodded. “I’m proud of you, too.”
“What? I’ve been an awful daughter. I said cruel things.”
Joseph patted my knee. “Maybe, but you spoke your mind for the first time.”
Nia laughed. “The look on your face!” She fanned herself with her hand. “I was scared.”
I chuckled, but then quickly remembered my father running away from us. Looking up at my cousin and brother, my heart splintered. “Dad’s leaving us. He said we don’t need him anymore. He’s going to disappear like Mom did.”
Nia put a hand on her chest in astonishment. “Uncle Jose said that?”
Joseph looked down at the floor. When he looked up, he smiled at me sadly. “I’ve got to get back to work.”
I grabbed his hand. “I didn’t mean to make Dad leave us.”
He gently shook my hand from his. “I know, Jas.” I watched my little brother walk away, my sadness expanding minute by minute.
Nia hugged me. “It’s going to be okay, Jasmine.”
I didn’t know what to think. All the men in my life, my dad, my brother, and my boyfriend, were either upset or running away from me.
How was it going to ever be okay?
Chapter 17
Alex
When Jasmine told me Jose was leaving town, I seriously didn’t doubt it. Jose seemed like an unbreakable man, but men like that were always brittle on the inside. The rock exterior was a callus around a tender, vulnerable heart.
When I was a little boy, I had a Corgi named, Memphis. All I had were two little sisters, so Memphis became my little brother. Memphis and I were inseparable. When he died unexpectedly, my little seven-year-old heart shattered. My parents let me mourn, but after a few months, we had a new Corgi, named Nash.
I wouldn’t pet or play with Nash, announcing to my parents that I would never love another puppy again. I remember my parents exchanging looks with each other at the dinner table but not pressing the subject further.
It was difficult to be around Nash because as a little kid, I wanted to play with him badly, but I wouldn’t let myself. What if something happened to Nash too? I couldn’t let myself fall into that trap again.
Tucking me into bed that night, my father told me that if I had another puppy, it didn’t mean I didn’t love Memphis anymore. He explained that when a heart breaks, it will eventually heal and be ready to love again.
That night, I snuck out of bed. I scooped Nash up and brought him upstairs. Under my blanket with my flashlight, I played with my new puppy, allowing myself to feel the happiness I once had with Memphis. Soon, Nash and I became buddies just as close as Memphis and I were.
When Nash died, I was a senior in high school. I was prepared for it since, by that time, Nash was fairly old. Nonetheless, my heart broke again, but I was glad I let Nash in. I was glad my dad told me it was okay to love again. Jose needed someone to tell him that.
I was probably not the best person to talk to Jose about love and healing, but I loved Jasmine. If her father took off because of our relationship, Jasmine would be devastated. I couldn’t stand by and do nothing.
I left Jasmine at the restaurant in a hurry. There was no time to waste. Jose was a man who acted quickly and irrationally. After the last time I tried to talk to Jose, I decided storming up to the house mad as hell wasn’t going to work with the man. This time I was going to try a softer gentler approach.
When I pulled up to the Fontaine’s driveway, I saw Jose’s Escalade still there. Relief flooded my veins, empowering me. There was still a chance I could talk him out of taking off.
I walked up to the front door remembering the last time I’d been there. Telling myself to not make the same mistakes again, I knocked on the door. No one answered. I waited a few minutes, knocking again, but still, no one answered.
Worry swelled in my chest. Why wasn’t he answering the door? I knocked again more insistently. What if Jose was inside, hurting himself? Backing up from the door, I braced my right shoulder for the impact.
Suddenly, it dawned on me that there might be a better way. I checked the doorknob. It was unlocked. Relieved I didn’t have to break down the man’s door; I rushed inside. I passed through the front room, searching for him. The large family portrait that hung there was toppled over onto the floor. I stepped over the Fontaine’s faces gazing
up at me from the floor, listening for any movement in the house.
Above my head, the chandelier swayed. Then, I heard it. A booming grumble followed by a loud crash. I rushed up the stairs afraid of what I might see when I got there. I prayed Jose was okay.
On the second floor, I followed the groans rumbling out of a room to the right. I sprinted inside. An oil painting of Jasmine’s mother was thrown to the floor. A tangle of jewelry, rings with large glittering stones, diamond and emerald necklaces, ruby encrusted bracelets, littered the floor. Women’s clothing and accessories: Louis Vuitton and Gucci handbags, fur coats, and gowns were scattered about. A suitcase packed haphazardly with men’s dress shirts, and slacks was open on top of the bed.
I followed a scattered trail of Jimmy Choo shoes coming from a walk-in closet. Inside the expansive his and hers closet, Jose stood next to a hole in the wall clutching his right hand. The closet was ransacked. If clothes weren’t on the floor, they hung precariously from mangled hangers. Jose’s suits were crumpled and in various stages of disarray.
Jose looked up with a pained face. The knuckles on his hand were purple and swollen. I said calmly to him, “Don’t move. I’ll be right back.” Jose, stunned by the pain or by my sudden appearance said nothing, just nodding his head numbly.
Running downstairs to the kitchen, with sadness, I thought of all women’s clothing and accessories that were strewn on the floor. Jose’s wife left more than a decade ago, not bothering to collect her jewels and designer clothing, and Jose never threw them out. He got dressed every morning next to the discarded things of a woman he still loved. I grimaced at this thought.
Quickly, I found a Ziploc bag in a kitchen drawer and filled it with ice. From the window in the kitchen, I saw the oxen contentedly grazing, unaware of the Fontaine family’s brewing troubles. I sprinted upstairs two steps at a time. When I got back to the closet, Jose sat on an ash grey ottoman, his hurt hand, limp in his lap. He sat staring off into space, hardly moving.