Mangos and Mistletoe

by Adriana Herrera

  “Bold,” Susan responded as she picked one up. “I need a taste.”

  Jean-Georges was next, a knife in hand, poised to slice into Sully’s perfect cake. “Tell me about this.”

  Sully looked at me, and I nodded. It was her cake, she should talk about it. Besides, I was too overwhelmed to make any sense.

  “It’s a coquito and passion fruit cake. Coquito is a Puerto Rican holiday drink, similar to eggnog, but it’s made with coconut cream, rum, and spices.” She brought up her hand and started ticking fingers as she went. “Nutmeg, cinnamon, clove, and I made a passion fruit curd for the filling.” She glanced up at me, a smile still on her lips, but it was barely a shadow of the radiant ones I’d been gifted with this past week. “We hope you like it.”

  I felt short of breath, suffocating in my own regret as I stood there.

  Jean-Georges just groaned in answer as he cut into the cake. Soon, they were all taking bites. Susan and Bobbie nodded as they chewed, and when Bobbie spoke, she could barely contain her smile. “I am going to steal this!” She teased.

  Susan concurred, as she nibbled on the cream puff. “This is glorious. The combination of flavors is genius. Wow.”

  Jean-Georges held one of the macarons in his hand, inspecting it closely. He held it to his nose. And then presented it to us. “Bourbon vanilla and spiced rum?”

  I dipped my head. “Yes, chef.”

  He bit into it, chewed slowly, and swallowed, his expression impassive, and I was sure I’d pass out if he didn’t say anything. After another long pause, he finally spoke. “Bon.”

  With that, he walked away, the macaron in his hand, the others trailed behind him to go make their decision.

  I could see Sully’s chest expand as she took a deep breath, and I wished I could throw my arms around her, kiss her. Tell her how proud of us I was, but she walked off without saying a word. Still, I had to thank her. I hurried behind her, as we walked out of the studio to take a ten-minute break and freshen up before the judges came back with their verdict.

  “Sully,” I called, the urgency clear in my voice. “Thank you.” It was such a weak fucking thing to say when this week, she’d given me everything, but it was all I had. “Just...thank you.”

  She looked at me like she didn’t know me, her shoulders tense. “You don’t need to thank me, Kiskeya. I didn’t just do this for you. I wanted to win. I wanted to do well. The difference between us is that I don’t need to treat other people like shit to do it.” She walked down the hall and out of the studio without a backward glance. I stood there realizing no matter what the outcome was, I’d already lost.

  Chapter 14

  Kiskeya

  We won.

  The judges came back and announced we were the new Holiday Baking Challenge champions. Our friends who had stayed after they’d been eliminated were there to cheer us on. We smiled for the cameras, embraced stiffly at the request of the producers, and the whole time, I was numb. I kept checking to see where Sully was, fearful she’d disappear before we had a chance to talk things out. After filming ended, the crew brought in champagne and plates so everyone could taste the desserts. Everything could’ve been sawdust for all that I could taste it.

  People kept coming up to congratulate me, to tell me how great we’d done, but all I wanted was to get out of there. Go back to our room and talk with Sully. Tell her I was sorry. Tell her how I felt. The need to do that became more urgent by the second, but every time I was about to do it, someone got in my way. I had my eye on Sully who was standing by one of the exits talking with Alex, and decided this was my chance.

  “Kiskeya la Bella y campeona.” Gustavo came up to me with a big grin on his face and gave me a tight hug. “I can’t say I didn’t want to win, but seeing you beat those two was almost as good.”

  I did my best to smile, keeping an eye on Sully. “Thanks, Sully was the one that kept us on track.”

  He shook his head like I was being ridiculous. “Nah, I was watching. You two are like a symphony together. Completely in sync.” I closed my eyes when he said that, choking down the sob threatening to escape my throat.

  “Is everything okay?” I rubbed my eyes trying to keep the tears from falling. I couldn’t even remember the last time I’d cried, and it was such a mindfuck. Here I was, with everything I’d been working for the last three years to get, and I was...bereft.

  When I opened my eyes Kaori, Derek, and Gustavo were all standing in front of me looking worried. “I’m fine.” I was so obviously not, but I didn’t have time to explain. “I just need to talk to Sully. If you guys will excuse me,” I said, trying to get past them.

  Derek frowned and turned to look in the direction of the exit, as if a realization just dawned on him. “She and Alex went back to the castle. She said she needed help in her room.”

  As soon as he said it, I hurried out of the studio. “I have to go, sorry.”

  “Ms. Burgos!” I came to a dead stop just as I was about to reach the door that would take me outside and to Sully. I recognized Jean-Georges’s booming voice before I turned to see him.

  “Chef,” I said, trying my best not to squirm. I must have been losing my mind, because this could be the most important conversation of my career and the only thing running through my head was: I need to get to her. I need to get to her.

  “You are a very deliberate baker. You also appreciate the traditional flavors. The classics are classics for a reason.”

  I swallowed and nodded again, bristling at his words. Words that a week ago would have been the greatest compliment for me. But now, after Sully, I felt like a fake. An imposter trying to sell out my roots for this man’s approval.

  “You are the winner, so the offer to come on as a sous chef at Farine et Sucre is open to you. It’s a great opportunity. I am sure you know this. At Farine, you will learn to bake like one of the masters.” I wondered how long it would be before I hated myself and my baking? Until I smothered everything about me that was real.

  I gulped down the “no, thank you” which practically crawled out of my throat and did my best to smile. “I appreciate the offer, sir. It’s a dream opportunity for any young chef.”

  He looked at me curiously, obviously confused by my lack of enthusiasm. Maybe he expected me to bow down and kiss his hand. But when I thought about what I was feeling, the relief that should’ve been there at the confirmation I would have a job wasn’t there. After years of hustling, of staying three steps ahead just to keep this dream going, I finally had a concrete plan for the near future, and it didn’t seem to matter just then. There was something more important I needed to do.

  “Thank you again. If you’ll excuse me. I have to go.” I left him standing there and ran as fast I could to the castle.

  As soon as I made it to our room, I knew. I walked in and saw her bags were gone. Her pajamas, which had hung behind the bathroom door were not there. The book she’d been reading was not on the bedside table.

  I wiped the tears streaming down my face and got my phone out of my pocket.

  I tapped on it, barely able to see the screen.

  Kiskeya: Te fuiste.

  After a few seconds, she replied.

  Sully: I left. You got what you came for Kiskeya—you won. And I got what I needed, a reminder that after the last couple of years, I can still be me.

  Kiskeya: I didn’t get to say goodbye.

  Sully: I didn’t want to make you. It would’ve hurt too much to hear you say you could go back to LA like the last few days had meant nothing.

  My heart was pounding and my hands felt cold, like all the blood had sucked back into my heart.

  Kiskeya: It meant everything. Everything. And I hate that I didn’t get to say it to you.

  Sully: It meant everything to me too.

  When my next few messages went unread, I sank to the floor of the half-empty room and cried. I’d always prided myself in never wasting an opportunity. I always seized any chance I was given, capitalized on it, made
it work for me. I’d left my family, my island, my whole world to go looking for the life I thought I deserved.

  But these last few years, I’d gone further and further into myself. I didn’t let myself enjoy the wins, always focusing on what was next. What Sully said was the truth—I had forgotten to be grateful. To let the joy of a moment fill me up.

  What good was any of this if I had no one in my life to share it with? What good was all this work if I lost myself in the process? What did any of this matter if when I was handed happiness, I couldn’t even recognize it?

  Eventually I stood and started gathering my things. I wouldn’t sleep in that bed without her. With every second that passed, the reality of what this week had meant for me grew in its intensity. I was folding clothes and shoving them in my bag when my phone vibrated. I quickly picked it up, thinking it might be Sully, but it was a message from her mom.

  Magalys: Felicidades, Kiskeya. I hope you two figure things out. Take care, querida.

  I felt tears stream down my face again at the kind words. Sully had only brought goodness to my life. I didn’t know what I’d done to deserve it, but I vowed right then and there that I would put it all on the line to make sure she knew that.

  Chapter 15

  New York City

  Christmas Eve

  Sully

  “Ay, mija, I’m not sure it’s a good idea to leave you alone all day.” I gritted my teeth at my mother’s third attempt to cancel her trip to the outlet mall so she could monitor my moping.

  I counted to three before I responded, because I knew she was just worried about me. But in the week since I’d gotten back from Scotland, I’d barely had a moment to myself and I needed some breathing room before I exploded.

  My mother was outside of the glass counter of the family’s bodega. Usually my brother was the one running the store, but today we only opened for a few hours and I’d offered to stay while they trekked up to one of the outlet malls in the suburbs.

  “Mami, I’m fine. En serio, stop worrying. You know I hate the mall, and I have all the business from this morning to go over.” I pointed at the screen of my laptop where I’d been reconciling all the orders clients had picked up last night and this morning for their own Christmas Eve parties. “I have to do all the bookkeeping, and we’re only open for like four hours today. Don’t worry. Go.” I waved a hand in the direction of the street.

  My mother didn’t look too convinced. I had been a mess when I got back. Blessedly, I’d come home to a bunch of requests for cakes and pies from costumers in the neighborhood and the round-the-clock baking had taken my mind off Kiskeya. Except that was a lie, because I’d thought about her nonstop. Especially when all the promo and shit for the show had started popping up on the Cooking Channel. My heart felt like it would burst every time I saw her. It hurt.

  Kiskeya had contacted me a few times to ask how I was. To make sure I’d made it home okay, but I’d kept it short. I was still too raw.

  My mother clicked her tongue and walked around the counter toward me. “Ay, Mamita. You’re just so sad. You haven’t even said what you’ll do with your prize money.”

  I hated that I was worrying my mother. But it had only been one week and I still had no clue how I felt about anything.

  It had been a shock to leave the castle and with each mile, my heart broke more. In just a few days, I’d fallen hard for Kiskeya. I didn’t know what to do with that. I missed her. I wanted her. But it was impossible. She was in LA, finally living the dream she’d worked so hard for, and I was here, still figuring out what was next.

  I ran a finger along my mother’s hairline and smiled, feeling the depth of her love. Even when she drove me a little nuts with her worrying. “It’s only been a week, Ma. Give me a little time. I’ll figure it out.”

  She kissed my cheek and hugged me tight, and I let myself sink into it. “You don’t have to rush, mi amor. You take the time you need. I just wish you would talk to her.”

  I shook my head hard at that. “What’s the point, Mami? She’s there and I’m here.”

  We’d gone over this a hundred times in the last week, and my mother still seemed unfazed by the fact that Kiskeya had not only expressed zero interest in having a relationship with me, but lived and worked on the opposite side of the country.

  Still, she seemed to be mollified a bit by how agitated I got. I knew she’d be back at it later, but for now, she grabbed her bag from under the counter, mumbling about “stubborn muchachas.”

  “Your brother and I will be back around 3:00 p.m.” she said, pointing to the door where I assumed he was parked. “Your tio needs the car back to go up to White Plains to his mother-in-law’s.” She crossed herself at the mention of my uncle’s very cranky relatives by marriage. “Thank goodness she stopped inviting us after I got into that fight with her after the election.”

  I laughed at that and waved goodbye as she headed out. But before she pulled the door open, she turned around and surprised me with a question. “You love her, don’t you, mija?”

  The tears should’ve been answer enough, but somehow I managed to get out, “I think so, Mami, but I’ll get over it eventually.” I gulped a couple of times, feeling ridiculous. But my mother had always taken her children’s feelings seriously. She came back and leaned over the counter to kiss me on the cheek.

  “You shouldn’t have to get over it. It’ll be all right. You’ll be all right.”

  I nodded, not sure what to even say and watched her walk to the waiting car.

  The store wouldn’t open for another hour at 9:00 a.m. I had just enough time to go over the last of the receipts before the entire neighborhood came through getting last-minute things for their Nochebuena dinner plans. I’d been working on my receipts for a bit when I heard a knock on the glass door. I ignored it at first, used to some of our regular customers’ bad habit of coming by too early or too late and expecting service. But when a second round of tapping disrupted the math I was trying to do, I went to see who it was.

  As soon as I got a clear view of her, I froze. I was rooted to the spot five feet from the door. She looked the same and yet so different. And I realized it was because I’d only ever seen her in Scotland. And now here she was in my city, on my block, outside my family store...and I wasn’t sure I’d be able to find out why because I was going to black out.

  Breathe, Sully. Respira.

  I took the two steps to the door like I was floating. I grabbed the handle and looked at her for one more second before opening the door.

  “Sully.” She said my name in Spanish, like always. There were ways in which my name could be said properly and still be in English. Still sound Anglo, but she said it in a way I felt in my soul. Like my people said it.

  She walked in and I stepped back, still not talking. I didn’t know where to start.

  But I was me, so I gripped my hands together in front of me to keep from grabbing her and said exactly what was on my mind. “I’m not going to ask dumbass questions because I obviously know why you’re here.” I’d been so focused on her face, on taking all of her in after thinking I’d never have her this close again that I didn’t notice what she was holding in her hands. And when I did, despite myself, I smiled. “You brought me chili mangos and a bouquet of mistletoe.”

  She dipped her head, face still solemn. “I figured it couldn’t hurt.”

  “You’re not funny,” I retorted, taking the offerings from her hand.

  “I’m not trying to be. I missed you.” Her voice broke on the last word, and I almost gave in, but I had to hear it.

  I put a hand up and closed my eyes, trying to gain some composure. “You need to say it, and not why you’re here. I know this is a grovel.” I opened my eyes in case she tried to deny it, but she didn’t. “I want to know what your plan is, Kiskeya. You don’t do a damn thing without thinking ten steps ahead, so don’t tell me why you’re here now. Tell me what happens after.”

  Her face crumpled for a fraction of a se
cond, but she got it back together. She had bags under her eyes, and her already-slim face seemed even leaner. It was a bittersweet relief to know I hadn’t been alone in my misery.

  Her throat convulsed, and I could tell she was having trouble with whatever she had to say. I didn’t want to look away, but I could tell whatever was coming out of her mouth next was going turn me inside out, so I panicked.

  “Wait, let me put this down.” I ran to the counter, gently placed the bouquet and bag of dried mangos down and came back. By then, she was shaking her head, a watery grin on her face.

  “I missed you so fucking much.”

  I wasn’t talking until she said what she came all the way here to say. I was worth her laying out her heart.

  “I start a new job January second.”

  I dipped my head and looked at my feet. “Yeah, your dream job.”

  Her hand reached for mine, and in the smallest voice I’d heard from her, she asked, “Can I?”

  I gripped her fingers immediately, and I could’ve wept to be holding her clammy hands again. “I was hoping you would give me the rundown on a Dominican’s first New York winter survival guide.”

  And because I had no fucking chill, I screamed. “You did what?” My hands and my feet went rogue after that, and in an instant I had both arms around her neck. “Tell me, Kiskeya.”

  “I turned down the job at Farine. I took the one here in New York, at Canela.”

  My lips were practically burning to smash against hers, but I resisted, because there was shit that needed to be said.

  “You gave up your dream job, the only reason why you were even in Scotland. Your life goal.”

  She shook her head, and with each swivel, her mouth inched closer to mine. “First of all, I’m an idiot. Second, I may have gotten there with one life goal, but I left with a completely different one.”

  “But what about your visa? I’ve been worried sick about that.”

  “I’m sorry I worried you, mi amor.”

  My back stiffened at the words. She’d just said, my love.

  “Don’t play with me, Kiskeya.”