An Opened Heart

[Semisweet]

So, this is something I wrote in one day. I was actually really inspired and I fell in love with these characters. I used to write a lot but I had stopped for a while but seeing everyone's fascinating stories on here, I just had to add my own! This is, however, my first in this type of fetish so I apologize if it wasn't great. I actually got so obsessed I wrote a continuation reversing the roles later...but I will wait to post that! I wrote this in first person, as the character Carmen. She's kinda like me in a way; same profession, too. So just let me know what you think and what you think I can improve on! Also there's  a bit of Spanish in there. I left notes on the bottom to translate if you aren't sure.

Thanks!

 

An Opened Heart

 

He was anything that any girl could ever dream of - seriously. Tall, lightly tanned, with pitch black hair, styled with gel and shaved slightly off the sides. He, Mauricio, was from Cuba and somebody I never thought I would end up interested in. You see, my profession is cooking. Yes, cooking. Not that standard at home cooking but I am an executive chef and Mauricio happened to be working in a kitchen that I interviewed for and accepted the job. Who knew it would go this far?

 

First off, I admired him because he was my strongest employee. If I needed someone to pick up extra slack, he would do it without fail or without objections. Personally, I thought he was doing it just to please me - and it turns out that was only. One night that I was closing, I found a mysterious number placed on my desk in the office and, sure enough, it belonged to him. Ey, Mami, it said, Give me a chance and go out with me. One time is all it takes. I’ve had a terrible track record with men and I mean terrible. My last relationship ended up with him leaving me high and dry for his ex and I wasn’t about to be easy prey for the next available man.

 

I turned him down.

 

First off, I was his boss. It’s very dangerous that a manager could be seen favoring their subordinates. Second, I...guess I was afraid of commitment, even if it was a date for coffee. That whole week later he still pulled his best efforts to impress me.

 

I was sitting in the ‘whole in the wall’ office, typing up night counts in the creaky old swivel chair that probably survived a century on its own, when I heard a light tapping on the door. “Yes?” I answered, without lifting my eyes off of the computer screen, fully aware if I did I would lose my place. The door opened a crack and there stood tall dark and handsome - I mean, Mauricio. Mauricio was standing there. “Sorry to interrupt,” the deep accented voice cooed, “But I had a question to ask.” I immediately turned my attention to the line cook and batted my green eyes in awe at his beauty. He should have been a model, not a chef. Hell, he had the tattooed painted arms, chiseled jaw, and very, very well kept eyebrows. Sorry, it’s a peeve of mine.

 

“Wha..what’s up?” I asked, smiling in a nervous fashion. I could feel my heart pick up its normal beat. “I wanted to know if you like dancing,” he stated as he stepped into the small office making it even smaller and proceeded to close the door behind him. I was stuck. I was caught. I was trapped. “I uh, I do,” I replied meekly, “I just don’t really know how to..uhm, dance Latin dances.” The answer brought a smile to the man’s face and he took a few more steps forward. I now was without a choice and the option of “no” was far from possible.

 

“I can teach you,” he purred, “Let me pick you up - is that okay? Aim for around 10? Text me when you are ready.” I couldn’t say no. “O-Okay, that sounds good,” I stammered feeling my heart beat faster than a rock session beat, before clearing my throat, “So I have to finish up here. Do me a favor and make sure the guys are finished with their stations and the dishwashers have cleared their pit before anyone can go.” The man nodded eagerly and slipped back out the door, “Gracias y buenos noches, senorita.” I let out a large sigh combined of nerves and excitement.  As I said before, most places establish a “no work relationship” policy but this restaurant, Savor, didn’t. They never had a problem and I didn’t want to be the start of it. I just had to be careful because it would always be a little awkward if everything didn’t go as planned, especially on a personal level.

 

Once I finished the computer paperwork, I tore off my chef coat and replaced it with my black peacoat. I let my hair unravel from its head knot and took my departure once everything was locked, leaving the restaurant with a little happy beat. I was off the following day so I was going to go shopping for a cute little dress and maybe a new pair of heels. I didn’t really have much since my move to Chicago from New York. Everything was on a different scale, yet, all had that same city feel and it was comforting. I was the notorious city gal who could run a kitchen like an army sergeant - and I loved it.

 

---

 

The following night, I had spent hours doing my hair into the perfect ‘flip out, blow out’ that I could never seem to master on any normal day. I had even went and bought myself a manicure/pedicure combination. It was a rare occurrence to see me with painted nails, as it was a no-go at worth. Food Safety first. I wanted to look good and I didn’t know why. Was I...crushing over this 30 year old Enrique Iglesias knock off? Yes, to be honest, I was and I was slightly okay with that. I shuffled across my wooden floors in pink fuzzy slippers to the bathroom in order to finish my makeup. Along the way, I grabbed my cell phone and sent a text to the number I was given by Mauricio.

 

Hey! It’s me, Carmen! I’ll definitely be ready by ten. Looking forward to it!

 

I set down the phone to work on my eyeliner carefully; everything had to be perfect and I was determined to get that damn winged eye even and matching. I knew I was taking a risk by going into a Latin club not knowing how to dance or even just being the minority. I didn’t really care. It was all about having fun. It was all about being with Mauricio and getting know this mysterious  and attractive Latino.

 

As I finally finished putting on the final touches of my makeup, I shuffled into the hallway to look into my full-length mirror. I thought I looked pretty banging. I had on a tight knee length black dress that had some sparkles in the material and had a set of black sleek heels to put on once he responded of being outside. I was ready! I ran to check my phone and failed to see a reply. No worries. I knew he was working and probably got stuck at the restaurant late. This guy, from what I heard, worked two jobs: one in the morning and one at my restaurant, Savor. I really admire people who work hard for a living. It was, indeed, a turn on.

 

I flopped down on my plush beige sofa and turned on the television - with my phone beside me, of course, and waited. 10:30 came about and I hadn’t heard anything but I still kept my hopes high, watching specials on the Food Network. 11:15 came by and I still hadn’t heard anything. Now, I was starting to get a little aggravated. Was this in retaliation to the time I told him no? I huffed and rested my soft pale cheek into my palm that rested on the couch’s arm. I played with my golden hair ever so slightly until I finally saw my phone blink - message received! I snatched that phone as fast as I could and unlocked it enthusiastically, waiting to see what words appeared on the screen.

 

Sorry. Can’t go tonight. Raincheck.

 

My heart sunk. Raincheck? After all those eye catches and winks? After all those random questions and testing of my Spanish knowledge? After all that trouble, why the hell would you say, ‘raincheck’ of all those things. I sprawled out on the couch and groaned, letting my phone drop to the floor. Maybe I had gotten my hopes up a little too much. And as I lay there, staring at my ceiling, I started thinking about tomorrow’s work environment. I grabbed one of my pillows and hugged it tight, pouting. Tomorrow was going to be a terrible day because of all the mixed emotions I was encountering at that point in time. What do I do? What do I say?  

 

Nothing. I am the boss. I can say nothing. I grumbled and removed my butt off the couch, somberly trudging back towards the bathroom to now remove the makeup that took an hour to put on. Sometimes it was terrible to be a woman.

 

--

 

The next day at work, Mauricio wasn’t there. Was he really trying to avoid me that much? I tried to think logically. Maybe there was a reason he hadn’t been there. Maybe it was a family emergency? Broken down car? Or...or...Arg!  Why didn’t he even call in? That was a write up, a no-call-no show. I was in shock and also acting like a raving..well, I started partaking in the role of female Gordon Ramsey. After all, we were short handed and It didn’t help that we were busy on a random Thursday night of all days. My sous chef, James, wasn’t even well trained yet as he was a recent graduate aka, fresh meat.  Well, you know what they say, when it rains, it pours and it sure decided to rain.

 

That evening, I left early because my sous chef was closing and I think everyone also wanted me gone due to my attitude. I was normally in good spirits, laughing and joking but all I wanted to do today was cuss, swear, or, silently cry. I still couldn’t shake the fact that Mauricio didn’t have the nerve to show up to work either. Maybe he was he hungover? Was he seeing another girl and just stringing me along just like my last boyfriend did? I was so angry, I dug up his personal information in the office, before I left, and jotted down his address. I just had to find out myself otherwise it was going to eat me alive as if it wasn’t already

 

Bundled in my black tight fitting pea-coat, hood covering almost every inch of my face, I shuffled down the neighborhood, quite surprised to find out he only lived a few blocks away from me in one of the apartment complexes. All the apartments in the area looked like refurbished old colonial homes. Classy, yet chic, if you want to call it.

 

I glanced at the address on my paper and searched through the numbers on each building until I found one that corresponded: 113 Crookstreet. Bingo. I peered around at the dismal dark neighborhood, hugging my body due to the chilly mist in the air. It wasn’t really raining but it was misting and the temperature of the air made the chill worse. Burr! I then spotted the shiny 2015 black Toyota Corolla that he drove to work each day. That bitch, I sneered and thought to myself, Time to find out the truth in this matter. With a look of determination painted across my pink cheeks, I marched up his stone stoop and stared at the several apartment doorbells that would allow you passage into the complex, after contacting the tenant. The stern look I had suddenly melted and a pit formed in my stomach. Was this right? No, definitely, it was not right and yet, I found my finger slowly pressing against the doorbell that corresponded to the number on my paper, B-2.

 

Buzzz.

 

Nothing.

 

Buzzz.

 

Nothing.

 

I heaved a large breath of air that turned into a small white fog. This was wrong. I needed to leave. I was about to turn away and walk down when I heard a weak, raspy voice answer the telecom. “Hola..?” I paused and furrowed my brow in confusion. Did I get the number wrong? “Uhm, hi. My name is Carmen, is Mauricio there?” I quickly made sure I hadn’t hit the wrong number by scanning the address on my little scribbled note and matching it with that on the wall. “C-Carmen? Mi jefa..?” the voice responded, “..Uno momento por favor.”

 

Within a few minutes, I watched as a dark figure descend the dim-light inner staircase of the framed glass door. I stood back, shoving my hands into my pocket for warmth and awaited until the door opened. Immediately upon the rush of cold air, the figure grimace and let out a rough cough. It then dawned upon me. Holy crap, I’m an ass. My eyes widened as they observed the usually well kempt Latino stud looking absolutely and utterly dreadful. His black hair was disheveled on the top of his head in every which way possible, his skin had a pallid look to his usual beautiful cappuccino flesh, and the tip of his nose appeared as red as a stoplight. “Oh Mauricio,” I blurted in a combination of relief and concern, “I’m so sorry.” Upon the apology, the man let a small grin creep across his face and opened the door a little wider, allowing me passage. “No,” he quietly said followed by a small sniff, “I should’ve told you. I called James earlier and he said stay home. I thought he told you.”

 

That son of a…

 

I angrily glared at the stairs as we headed up to the second floor where, I assumed, his apartment had been located. “No mi seni..I mean, I felt very unwell Wednesday night..I should have..what’s the word..elab..,” he began, searching for the english corresponding words to his feelings. “Elaborated?” I finished his sentence, finding that he nodded with a small smile in response, “Si...and let you know what was up.” As the light seemed more brilliant in the upper hall than the first floor, I could see his muscular body being masked by a sweat suit and his feet covered in red socks with slippers that were oddly pink and fuzzy like mine. As we got to his door, he stopped and shoved his hand into his pocket digging for his key.

 

Once the key was retrieved, he shoved it into the door but yet paused. My eyes returned from his slippers to his back in slight curiosity as to why he stopped, until I noticed his shoulders become rigid. “Heh...hih..hitsch!” I winced as the sneeze sounded powerful and painful all at the same time. “Ugh..Lo siento, mami,” he mumbled with a wet sniff and then into the apartment we went. It wasn’t overly decorated, akin to mine, but had a few little trinkets here and there from his country. I didn’t really know too much about Cuba, except they were usually party animals. “Oh,” he said, setting the keys down on a small table near the door, “If you were wondering about the slippers, they were my niece’s idea of a birthday present. She’s three.”

 

“When was that?” I asked curiously, as I took down my hood and let the golden hair flow free. I had taken it out of its standard bun hours ago. Mauricio shuffled over to his nice black leather couch and sunk down where he apparently had a miniature trash heap of tissues. “Uhm, two weeks ago,” he mumbled, followed by a couple deep congested coughs. I frowned as I unbuttoned my jacket, revealing my white work tee-shirt and my slightly fitted black work pants. He seemed to have noticed my outfit as I hung the coat up and, too, painted a face of discontent. “Was it busy at work?” he asked as he pulled a tissue from the box buried beneath the pile and gave a good strong blow. Shit, what was I supposed to say? “Uhm, not really,” I smiled faintly and made my way over to his area. It seemed he then took notice of his lack of hospitality and scrambled to move his trash heap closer to his body to contain the mess and make room for me, even though I casually sat on the edge the other chair in the living room. I placed my hands in my lap and scanned the rest of his quaint little abode. It was a small apartment consisting of the essentials: Coffee table, chair, couch, TV, and a couple other tables.

 

“I’m sorry, did you want something to drink?” he asked as he took notice of me observing his messy coffee table and began to remove the several bottles of Nyquil knockoffs, “...that isn’t cold medicine.” I giggled a little as I watched him try to collect himself and not appear as the mess he seemed. “I feel like I should be asking to fetch you something to drink,” I replied, sinking back into the comfortable chair. My eyes moved to the TV, slightly taking interest into the latino soap opera that seemed to be airing. I didn’t really understand what was being said, but, I did find the one woman slapping the guy interesting and his reaction was slightly priceless. My attention, however, was interrupted by another loud and forceful sneeze that was caught by a wad of tissues.

 

“Hetschu! Htschu! Heh..heh...ugh…”

 

As he finished, he blew into the wad and swiftly left the living room, almost as if he was embarrassed. “...What are you taking for that cold of yours?” I asked, trying to peek into the kitchen where I saw him scurry off to. After coughing a few times and clearing his throat, he finally answered, “Everything you can imagine..I usually don’t get sick but when I do its pretty rough.” I heard the soft clanking of tin, assuming that he was getting a tea kettle started. I then took it upon myself to assist in the tidying of the living room and trashing the heap of tissues. “Honestly, you do look pretty rough,” I commented, standing to meet the re emerging chef that propped his body against the doorway. I shifted over to him and gently placed my hand upon his clammy forehand and made a small sound of disapproval with my tongue.

 

“You feel feverish,” I murmured but suddenly found my crisp green eyes meeting a set of deep dark tired bloodshot eyes in a manner I had never done before. I suddenly felt feverish and he seemed to caught on by smirking in response. “I’ve always been pretty hot,” he commented with a small laugh that turned into a cough. He immediately buried his face into his arm as he began into his fit. I then took it upon myself to guide him back to the couch and wrap the blanket tucked off to the side around his broad shoulders. “Gracias,” he whispered. “Let me get you that tea,” I said, once he was in a slightly relaxed position. He sniffed and rubbed his poor pink nose against his coarse sweatshirt. “And uhm, thank you for worrying about me...,” Mauricio said, as I disappeared into his little kitchenette It wasn’t much either, just a fridge, oven and stove, and microwave with a few cupboards. Once the kettle sung, I poured the hot tea into a mug along with the bag and a drop of honey. “I don’t have much family here,” he continued, eyes squinting as the irritation began to build from his runny, itchy nose. I sat down beside him and handed him the warm mug of tea which he immediately began to huff in hopes to clear his sinuses by the steam.

 

I smiled. I genuinely smiled knowing that he cared. He seemed to truly care and that was very meaningful to me. I hadn’t felt that much compassion in a long time “De nada,” I whispered and brushed a bit of black matted hair from his face. Suddenly, his eyes once again interlocked with mine and I felt myself becoming drawn closer to his body. His chapped lips firmly met mine and we kissed - not something that I imagined would happen. The kiss ended on a swift note as I could see his nose twitching. I pulled back and immediately grabbed the tissue box. I took possession of the cup of tea from his hands and replaced it with a few white tissues that he immediately buried his nose in. “Heh...hetschu! Hetschu!..Heh..heh..ugh, it’s stuck,” he mumbled before giving his nose a hard blow and followed with a congested sniff, “I hate when that happens.”

 

“I know a trick. Sometimes when I feel like I need to sneeze, I just do it and it works,” I commented, sympathizing the feeling. He struggled on his own a few minutes, massaging his tender nose and wiping away whatever seemed to leak free. “How? I have some powerful sneezes though..sometimes when I really start I can’t stop,” his eyes shifted to me with the question. I bit my lip slightly and scooted forward, nearly inches away from him once more. This, all of a sudden seemed to arouse the man further as his eyes scaled me like a tiger looking at it’s next hot fresh kill. His muscular arm wrapped around my waist, locking me in closer and I swore I could feel his heartbeat, simply when he stated, “Si.”

 

I swallowed a large gulp of air as I just felt the room shrink further and there was nothing else in there but me and him. “O-Okay,” I stammered and wriggled free to grab a few more tissues in preparation, “Lay back a little and relax.” The man nodded with a good sniff and let his posture decline into the couch. I crawled up next to him and began touching the rough pink edges of his beautiful nose with my finger tip. Instantly, I had triggered something as his nose began to flare. “Ugh, m-maybe this isn’t a good idea,” he began and tried to escape from beneath me. The tiger suddenly became a kitten. I sighed and pressed a gentle hand on his chest, “No senor, you stay. It will help, trust me.” Mauricio nodded and returned to a relaxed state.

 

I traced my finger around his nostrils a few times, which commenced his twitching and sniffing. I then traced up his rigid structured nose and massaged both sides in a slow circular fashion. His dark peach lips parted, “Ugh..” I smiled gently and whispered, “Como te siento?” His eyes fluttered shut and I could feel his breath begin to race. “Ma-mami..,” he stuttered in a warning tone, “I...I…heh..I...heh.”

 

“Shh..” I dropped my finger to his lips before I began to massage his septum, and causing his nose to wrinkle and squirm. “Uh..N..heh…” More unsolid words escaped his breath before he quickly grabbed my wrist with force and pulled it away, replacing it with his hand of tissues, “AhHetchu! Hetchu! Hetchu..Heh..Hetchu! Ah..Hih...Hihshuu!”

 

The sneezes were so powerful, the man had doubled over in his seat with tears forming in his eyes. I could only sit back and watch all the while his grip was still firmly held on my wrist. Once the five powerful sneezes passed, he blew his nose and was ready to relax until two more snuck out, “hshuu! Sshuu!” Once he finished, Mauricio sat back in the couch and panted ever so slightly, staring forward. “Dios mio,” he utter through a pant before glancing towards me, “...That did help.” I smiled and found his arm wrapping around my shoulders, drawing me close into his chest. I heard his wheezing, knowing that he still needed some more TLC but the ice had been broken.

 

“Maybe you should call out sick tomorrow,” he suggested with a grin. I laughed lightly and exhaled a breath of content, “I don’t know, maybe.”

 

 

 

Notes: 

Mami - Not the real definition but I would say kinda like "baby"..sorta.
"Mi jefa" - My boss, feminine term
"Uno momento por favor" - One minute please
"Dios Mio" - My God
 

[Hedgehog]

Hello Semisweet, welcome to the forum!  That's a nice story. I like that your characters are confident adults with jobs and no teenagers or students. I also like that he's so miserable and still sexual interested in Carmen.  I'm sure, the continuation you've planned will be enjoyable as well.

~hedgie

[SneezyHolmes]

I agree with Hedgehog! This was a very welcome change of pace and I thoroughly enjoyed reading it from start to finish! I'm definitely awaiting more with bated breathe!  

[Salamander]

How lovely  thanks so much for sharing 

[•.*°•☆. Q .☆•°*.•]

I also agree, it's so nice that they're adults! Beyond that, though, it's so well-written! The pace and characterization are great and the tone is so good, too! On a fet note, the spellings are so cute, too . And also the "stuck sneeze, needs a helper" trope is like, ngh, one of my favorites  

Thanks so much for sharing this great story, can't wait to see part two!!  

[Arty]

This is so nice. The others are right that its a nice pace to read about two adults. The sneezes are just yum!

[Semisweet]

Hey guys! So here's the second part to this or the continuation so to speak with roles reversed. Let me know what you think.

Sorry it took so long. Got busy at work. 

 

 

It had been a week or so since I played nurse and my steed seemed to return to his fame and glory. The expediting window was like a large picture screen, allowing you to see the current film in action. “Vamos pandejo!” the Latinos would shout to each other amongst another long string of inappropriate words that I chose to ignore and pretend I didn’t understand. The kitchen wasn’t the most lady like places to be, however, I had my share of a viper’s tongue. The ticket machine went off constantly, a sound that would resonate in one’s dreams after spending enough long hours in a kitchen. “Hey, Jose, I need table 24, 35, and 40 right now, por favor,” I yelled loud enough that they could hear me over the clatter of pans and dishes. “Si, jefa!” the gentleman replied.

 

A young man rushed to my side, black napkins in one hand and a large server tray in the other. “I think it’ll be a good Friday night, right chef?” The man’s name was Joseph, the weekend food runner. He was my rock, well, especially when we got busy. The kid wasn’t older than 21 but he knew every table in the restaurant, every section, and every seat position. People like that you wished were in every restaurant. If they were, the ticket times would only be as long as it took the cooks to prepare it. The “food runner” was a very underappreciated position in the restaurant. “I think so too,” I chirped, “I’m really pleased that they took to the seasonal menu quite well.” My eyes peeled off of the runner and back to the kitchen, turning my attention to the Cuban in the background. He ran two stations: a grill and a fryer, which wasn’t that bad considering how close both refrigeration units were to each other.

 

We never went dancing, but, we shared something a little more intimate. I wouldn’t have it any other way. “Chef,” the voice of Joseph broke my silence, to bring my attention back to the plates waiting organization in the window. I laughed a little and began arranging them on the tray, “Sorry, I keep spacing out a lot today.” The guy grinned and hoisted the tray with one hand over his shoulder, “I guess that’s okay every now and again, right?” And then off he went. This pattern continued for another hour and a half until the restaurant died down to a dull hum. “All right Joseph, I think that’s all for tonight. Hope the tips are good for you tonight,” I commented, taking a sip of water from my paper cup. The kid gave me a thumbs up and played his tray back into its original containment spot beneath the expo counter, “I think so. I saw a lot of steaks go out tonight and hardly anything came back except for table 13.”

 

I rolled my eyes. Some people can’t ever seem to be content with anything. The fries were too salty and the well done burger wasn’t well done enough. The cheesecake tasted frozen. Whatever. “Yeah I know,” I muttered as I took my apron off, “It’s all good though. I’ll take that than some other things that could happen. Well, have a good night.” The boy nodded and ran off to collect his percentage from his neighboring sever buddies. I wandered off to the office to collect my clipboard to count an end of day inventory, which was essential in keeping the end of month inventory straight as a ruler and a percentage of food cost beneath 28. I paused for a moment, once inside, and rubbed my nose. I had this lingering itch that had been there through service that I couldn’t shake. The heat was terrible in the kitchen or even that emitted from the heat lamp. It was enough to dry out anyone’s sinuses.

 

Finally when the itch, for the millionth time receded, I exited the office and made my way into the kitchen. I began in the cooler, counting the prepared items from shelf to shelf, then to meats, dairy, and vegetables. I had six sheets in total, so it took a little time. Especially once I was done, I had to enter them all into the computer afterwards. As I made my way to the freezer and pulled open the door to take a peek inside, that itch suddenly returned with a bit of vengeance this time. I grumbled, and proceeded to, again, rub it away. Stupid, I thought bitterly as I exited the freezer with a slight shiver. I left the walk in and moved to the dry storage when finally that itch struck hard, catching me off guard. My green eyes fluttered and my breath hitched quietly. Shit. I quickly covered my nose and mouth and let out a quiet, “Tscht!”

 

But, I wasn’t finished. I had my hand hover there as I felt the tingling sensation run through my nose. “..hih...hihtscht!” My head bobbed slightly with that last sneeze that totally caught me off guard. Once I recollected myself and cleared my throat, my eyes darted around to see if anyone had seen anything. Nope. Good. I had an image to keep. That’s right. Big, bad executive girl chef. I straightened my posture and proceeded to make my way to the line and count certain products they had stocked on their station. The line was quite impressive. Savor was a wood fire steakhouse that also specialized in seafood. So, all together, I had about eight employees on a weekend night to push the food out. Never had a problem.

 

As I made my way to the line, I sniffed quietly, wondering what the hell this sudden madness was going on in my nose? I didn’t have allergies back in New York. Well, Chicago was a bit different but...same thing. I sighed quietly and tried to count as quickly as I could, not really stopping to chit-chat as I sometimes did. I swiftly rubbed my nose on the end of my chef coat sleeve every time I felt it start to run. Don’t notice me, I pleaded in my head.

 

Spanish seemed to light up the air since most of the kitchen was comprised of Latinos and I was okay with that. They respected me, I respected them, just as I did the rest of the gang. I heard laughter, banter, and jokes that I got but wasn’t in the mood to really chime in. All I wanted to do was count and then run to the office and blow my nose discreetly. I glanced around as I came to Mauricio’s station, looking for the Cuban as he wasn’t present. Relieved, I sighed. He had a tendency to help the dishwasher when they were backed up  after he finished cleaning his stations and changing the oil. I bent down almost indiscernible behind the door of the station. Crap, I have to sneeze. I sniffed deeply hoping that the itch would fade like it had done before throughout the shift. What the fuck was going on? I don’t feel sick at all, just this stupid runny nose.

 

As I didn’t hear anyone behind me, I gave into the sensation of tingling running up and down my nose. Maybe, maybe I’d feel better if I let another one out. I quickly, in my duck posture, set the clipboard on my lap and cupped my face in hopes to muffle the sound. “Ih..hihtschu!” But one wasn’t enough, “Hitschu!” The last one was a little more loud than I had hoped for and I could feel the blush of embarrassment fill my cheeks. As I let my hands fall, I sniffed, cleared my throat and stood up, desiring to run off to my office like a bat out of hell. “Que pasa?” I heard that all too familiar soothing Latino voice behind me. I didn’t even look at him. I didn’t have the nerve to. “Nada,” quickly I stated and wrote a few numbers on my clipboard, still keeping my back towards him and then hurried off, leaving a very puzzled man behind.

 

Once out of the kitchen I nearly did run to the office and slammed the door behind me in fright. Shit. Shit. I swore in my head repeatedly as I sunk into my creaky office chair. Thankfully, the office was sound proof as two more, now intense sneezes caught me off guard. I didn’t have time to daintily cover my face. I turned off to the side, face pointing towards the ground and let them go. “Ackhoo! Ah..ackhoo!” I growled like an animal and feverishly grabbed a few tissues off the box on the desk and blew. Nothing. No congestion. No mucus. Just water. So...so it was just an allergic reaction to dust. I’ll take that. I convinced myself with a firm nod and proceeded to input the numbers into the computer quite diligently.

 

Even after I finished, I waited in the office until most of the people left the restaurant. Well, first off, my sous was taking the day off and I had to lock up anyway but I also didn’t want to embarrass myself any further in front of my staff. I took a few more tissues and dabbed at my runny nose before switching coats and finally closing out on the computer. I sighed. “What a way to end the night,” I mumbled, sniffing a few times afterwards, “God, what is this crap..” I tied a scarf around my neck that I had brought with me due to the air dropping down to frigid temperatures at night now. I took my purse and keys and opened the door, locking it behind me. Almost all the lights were out in the restaurant, except the one near the front door where I had to set the alarm. As I made my way over, I saw a figure, lying on the bench that people sat while waiting. Of course, who else would it be?

 

Hearing the sound of my footsteps, the man turned his head towards my direction and gave me a sincere smile - a smile that he couldn’t give me during the shift or any other time that we were both present in the restaurant together. “Hola, amor,” he greeted while sitting up. Me, on the other hand, was less than loving. “Hey..” I creaked, “You need to leave before I set the alarm.” The smile immediately vanished off his face outside.

 

“No, that’s okay, *sniff* I’ll call you when I get home,” I instantly objected. I guess one fault of mine was pride. I didn’t want my...I guess he was my boyfriend... to see my suffering of this allergy attack. The dark eyes of the Latino batted and slanted in confusion and irritation. He knew I was hiding something, I could tell, but he didn’t seem to want to pry...just yet. With a shrug, he said, “Okay,” and walked out the door. The pang of guilt grew in my stomach. I shouldn’t have done that, I told myself. Sighing, I set the alarm and immediately ran outside to lock the door. As I stood there, I pressed my forehead against the door for a split second and felt the tingling build in my nasal passages again. I rubbed my nose quickly to cease the irritation and found it to obey. Once outside, I began to walk to my car and undo my hair, letting the blonde locks clash against my face. I sniffed a couple times, only to find the same damn feeling returned and I figured I might as well let it go.

 

I paused on the sidewalk near my car and pressed my back against the cold wall, slightly hunched over with my arms wrapped around my waist. I waited, “Ah..heh...hehtchu! Hetchu! ‘Schoo!” After the last miniature outburst, I felt better and exhaled a sigh. I wiped my nose on the sleeve of my jacket and turned about only to hear that same damn voice of the Cuban, “Salut.” I froze and looked over to see him leaning against the car with his arms folded against his chest and a firm look on his face - one I had never seen before. “..G..Gracias,” I meekly replied and then fished around for my keys in my jacket pocket. I hurried towards the door in hopes that he would go away and opened it. Almost inside..Almost.. Just as I began to close the door, it became stuck from the force of his hand. Damn it. I shot an evil look towards him from my seat in the driver’s side. “Can I help you?” I forced out as it was hard to be angry at him.

 

“Why are you avoiding me?” His words were almost as cold as the air outside. “I…” I began, caught off guard slightly by his sudden aggression, “I’m not..I just..I just want to go home, that’s all. I’m tired.” To some degree, I had no right to say that to the man that worked two jobs and two stations. I gulped, knowing I screwed up. His fierce look seemed to falter slightly and the breath he was holding, seemed to finally release. “Is that it?” he asked softly and I nodded in return with a small sniffle. “Call me when you get home, okay amorcito?” He leaned in and kissed my forehead before finally releasing the door, disappearing into the direction of his own vehicle. I still felt that pang of guilt but somehow, my own exhaustion seemed to take over all other sensations in my body.

 

---

 

I groaned and rolled over in my bed, pulling the sheets closer to my body as if I could sew them to my skin. It was cold, but yet hot...oh shit. Slowly, my eyes pried open to look at the clock on the table: 6:45 AM. “Are you shitting me?” I croaked and rolled onto my back. I laid there staring at the ceiling trying to asses how I felt at that moment. Not..too bad, but not that great either. The previous runny nose suddenly turned into one that I couldn’t breath out of. Damn it. Okay. It might be just a 24 hour bug, I told myself firmly and pulled myself up out of the bed. Immediately the cold air slammed against my body and caused me to shiver. “Fuck,” I uttered - told you I can have a dirty mouth - and quickly wrapped the bed sheet around myself as I sat there on the edge of my mattress. My head felt heavy and slightly dizzy. I gave myself a minute before I dragged my body out of bed, with the bedsheet included, and made my way to the bathroom medicine cabinet.

 

I opened the mirrored door to look for any sort of remaining remedies that I had from my last cold - and I had none. Great. Mumbling to myself, I then redirected myself to the kitchen to make some tea and then plant my butt on the couch to watch television until I could doze off. I sniffled - somehow, even though I was congested, my nose began to run. I reached for a tissue on the side table and happened to notice my phone there. After I attempted to blow something out of my nose, I flipped on the screen to see that I had 10 new messages and five missed calls from, of course, Mauricio. I couldn’t help but smile a little, seeing the concern he had for me. No one really cared for me, either before.

 

I began to scroll through the messages and laughed a little. They started to seem a little desperate.

 

11:45

Hey, you didn’t call me so I’m just trying to call you to make sure you are okay.

 

12:05

Carmen? Are you there? Why aren’t you answering?

 

12:17

I think you might have fallen asleep but, if you’re tired, that’s okay.

 

12:22

Mami, estas bien? Por que no contestas? (And then he switched to Spanish for some unknown reason)

 

12:35

Let me know if I need to come over.

 

The final one stated: I’ll call you in the morning.

 

I shook my head and laughed a bit, having that turn into a wet cough. Great. Just, great. Thankfully, I made it through the weekend. I hate being sick on Saturday nights - those were terrible when you were trying to focus on the food and not sneeze at the same time. Yeah. Terrific.

Just like how I felt now, absolutely fucking terrific. The steam seemed to slam through to my sinuses, bringing forth a full onslaught of irritation. I quickly dropped my tea onto the table and snatched tissues through squinted eyes, breaths hitching all the way. “Hih..hih..hih! Hitschu! Hitschu! Hitschu!” I paused to grasp whatever air I could before I squinted my watery eyes and dove into my tissues for a second round, “Ahhschu! Askchuu! Hitschu!” I gasped for breath before blowing into the crumpled tissue. “Oh my god..” I groaned, laying my head on the arm of the couch, “I’m sick aren’t I? Fuck me..”

 

--

 

Bzzzzt! Bzzzzzt! Bzzzzzzzt!

 

The sound of a vibration snapped me awake from my deep slumber with a snort. I glanced over to the phone beside my head through squinted aching eyes to decipher who was calling me. Of course, it was Mauricio, doing exactly what he said he would do - call in the morning. I shook my head to collect myself and then noticed the time. “Shit, I’m gonna be late…” I slurred through a hoarse tone and staggered to my feet. I didn’t even bother answering the phone, knowing the guy was at work today anyway at his other job. He, however, didn’t work the night shift at Savor. Sundays were one of his days off unless it was busy or they had call out.

 

I turned on the water of the shower and, while I waited, I gave a good long look at myself in the mirror and cringed. I looked terrible. My nose was slightly pink and peeling and my lips seemed dry due to the fact that I forgot to put on my lip balm at night. My eyes looked as if they had seen better days too. Oh well, there ain’t no rest for the wicked. I coughed several times before I slipped into the shower, hoping I’d feel somewhat alive after the warm water caressed my achy form. To a degree, it did. I sighed and pressed my head against the tile, mumbling, “I don’t want to work today..” But executive chefs didn’t get sick days.

 

After drying off from the shower, I downed a cup of tea and reminded myself to pick up some meds from the corner store near work - thankfully, there was one over there. I trudged to put on my “under armor”: a pair of black dress pants and, for today, a long sleeve white shirt. I shuffled along to gather myself and make myself at least somewhat presentable through the fits of coughs and nose blows. After from what I thought seemed mediocre, I bundled up, grabbed my phone, and headed out the door. I trudged down the stairs out into the cold world only to find that there were snowflakes falling from the sky. Great, let me catch pneumonia while I’m at it. Once I got into the car, I took out my phone, knowing that he deserved a response.

 

Hola Mauricito, I’m fine love. I just really needed some sleep last night. I lied. I’ll talk to you later. We might be busy tonight so I don’t know if I can come over.

 

Good morning sleepy head! Do you need me to come help in the kitchen today? I’m getting off a little early since it might be dead here today. You know, football games.

 

Shit

 

Nope! I’ll text you as I go. Promise. Besos. Descansa y disfruta.

 

Okay! Te quiero mucho.

 

Well, I at least evaded that problem for now. The next task I thought, as I started my car, was to prove to my staff that I was in decent working condition. As the car started to emit heat, my nose decided to remind me that it was not going to let that happen and began to run as if it was in the horse race. “Thanks, body,” I grumbled and pulled out of the parking lot.

 

---

 

As soon as I entered the restaurant, I darted for the office and, once I made sure no one was inside. I slammed the door behind me and dumped an array of cold medicines on the desk. One was for congestion, one was for cough, one was for fever..and I tried to take all of them. After I had drugged my body pretty well, I hid the stash underneath my jacket, once I put on my coat and began to catch up on some paperwork. Thankfully, James was in the kitchen today so I didn’t need to rush around and check things out. I kept the tissues close as I was typing on the computer, sniffling, wiping my nose and coughing into my arm as quietly as I could, waiting for the medication to kick in. “C’mon…C’mon..” I mumbled, “C’..hih...oh shit..hih..hitschu!” The sneeze caught me off guard but, luckily, I buried my face into my arm, letting the coat get the onslaught of the mist. “Ugh..” I sniffed, and continued to type after dosing my hands in sanitizer.

 

As I sat there, I couldn’t tell if the drugs were beginning to kick in or my body was beginning to give out as I began to feel woozy. Then, I thought, I didn’t really eat anything today so maybe I should venture out for soup. Yes, soup. Soup sounded splendid. I carefully left my chair and braced myself with the energy to produce fake emotion of happiness. I smiled and waved to most of the servers until I got to the window. “Hey, Marcus,” I called quietly, and cleared my throat after hearing the congestion coating my words. A face popped out of a young man around his middle twenties. “Yes ma’am?..Oh, You feelin’ all right chef?” The smile that was evident on the boy’s face faltered after, I assumed, he took a real good look at me. “Yeah,” I sheepishly smiled, “Just a bit under the weather. What’s the soup you have today?”

 

“Roasted chicken and Orzo with a herb gremolata,” the boy replied proudly. I nodded and handed him a bowl from below the expo counter, “I’ll take some. It sounds good. Good job.” I stood back as the cook went to ladle some soup, coughing a series of deep wet coughs into my elbow. The boy grimaced as he pushed the bowl underneath the heat lamp. “Chef, that doesn’t sound good,” he replied, looking at me with sincerity in his hazel eyes. All these boys were great. They were definitely my support team. In total, I had fifteen that worked different days, shifts, and positions,

 

I sighed, “I know..I’m hoping it’ll pass quickly.” I grabbed the warm bowl, and placed a spoon in it. “Has it been busy yet? Is James back there?” The boy shook his head, no, for the first answer and then turned around to call for James, “James! Chef’s callin’ you.” It took a few minutes before a dirty apron wearing slightly bearded man popped his head into the window. “Yes chef?..Yikes, you okay?”  I rolled my eyes, “I think I’ll survive. How’s the business and what’s the reservations look like?”

 

“Well, it seems pretty quiet and plus we have the game going on so everyone will be in the stadium,” he replied and then blurted out a “Bless you” as my face began to scrunch up. I quickly buried my face into my arm and let out a few muffled sneezes that left me slightly bleary eyed. I nodded while only half listening to what he said. “Okay..I’m..going back to the office for a while. If you need anything, let me know…” I didn’t really wait for a response. I just really wanted to sit down. I took my soup and vanished back into the confinements of my office. Once back in my chair, I held the position of spoon in one hand toying with the contents of the bowl and a wad of tissues in the other, preventing drainage down my face and the loss of my dignity.

 

I took a few bites of soup but I wasn’t that interested in finishing the rest considering I couldn’t even taste it in the first place. I stared at the computer screen, blankly, knowing there were some parties I had to organize and develop menus for...but my head wasn’t really able to focus. I sniffed and grabbed another tissues, feeling the sensation take control again. “Hih...hih..” it was dangling right there. Right there. And, as if on cue, it released right when there was a knock at the door. “Hitschu! Hitschuu!”

 

“Salut,” the all too familiar accented voice stated.

 

I remained frozen with the tissue over my nose, feeling like a child that had gotten caught with their hand in the cookie jar. After I blew my nose in vain, I cleared my throat and slowly brought my watering green eyes up to meet loving dark concerned brown eyes. And as if Karma loved kicking my ass, Mauricio was standing in the doorway, dressed in tight jeans and a beautiful dark metal sweater that made him definitely look like a model. I also noticed that under his arm where his chef clothes, just in the case he was going to be needed. I swallowed a hard dry scratchy bit of air and tried to muster a satisfying hi, but it sounded terrible.

 

The cook glanced outside both directions for a second and closed the door to the office once he was inside. He then took a seat with his back against the door, knees elevated and long arms resting upon him. His angelic face focused his gaze on the ground as he searched for the words to say, “..Why did you lie to me?” I felt like I just drove a santoku through my heart. “I..I didn’t mean to..” I spoke softly, “I just…” That seemed to strike a fire in his eyes as they narrowed. “Just what?” he blurted, staring at me with rage filled hues, “You don’t think I care? You don’t think I worry? I was up half of the night considering running over to your apartment to check on you when you didn’t answer my phone calls last night. I know you are a strong person, Carmen, but sometimes you just…” He paused, not realizing that he had been yelling. With a deep sigh, he let his head hit the back of the door slightly and closed his eyes, “Just let me in, like I did you. Te quiero mucho...es verdad.”

 

My heart sunk. I hadn’t even really considered how concerned he was about my health since half of the time, at work, we try our best to hide it. “Mauricio..” I murmured, eyes falling to the ground, “I...I’m sorry...I..” My words were cut off as they commenced a coughing fit. The sound of it had the line cook wince and climb onto his knees, resting a hand on my back for comfort. “You need to go home. Let me take care of you..” he whispered and I almost felt myself melting into his embrace. I felt hot. I couldn’t tell if it was because of him or that I was all wound up and emotional or what. I did, however, feel his free hand rest against my forehead for only a split second. “Chingada madre, you’re on fire, amor,” he stated in a startled tone. His hands then both cupped my face, focusing his eyes to meet mine. “Listen, I’m going to leave and go straight to your apartment. You tell everyone, you are going home and I will meet you there...or..do you need help driving home?”

I shook my head and pulled his hands from my face, “I’ll make it home okay. I promise.”

 

I felt like an ass as I watched him leave. I think I was more heartbroken than sick at that point...no, I still felt pretty sick.

 

---

 

I slowly pulled into the parking lot and, sure enough, there was my Cuban stallion waiting for me, all bundled up like an eskimo. Well, not quite, but close. I peeled myself from the car after I turned off the engine and shuffled my way over to his immediate embrace. “Vamos,” he said, pushing me up the stairs to the back entrance of my apartment complex. I lived in the rear, so, we had to climb metal stairs to get entrance from the backdoor. Eh, it wasn’t all bad. I sniffed and rubbed my now raw nose as we climbed up to my apartment and when I opened the door, I fell into a chair, muffling the sound of a string of sneezes.

 

He closed the door behind him and couldn’t help but look at me with a smile. I stared at him with a half delirious look painted across my face. “You look beautiful,” he leaned in and placed a soft kiss upon my lips. I groaned and turned away immediately, “Stop, you’ll catch my cold.” The man shrugged as he began to unbutton his layers, “Actually, I believe I am the one that gave it to you. Remember a few weeks ago?” I nodded as I unzipped my coat and let it drip dry over the chair. I hadn’t the energy to change so I just wandered over into my small living room and collapsed onto the couch. It didn’t take him long to follow me, frowning at the sounds of my coughs. “Are you taking anything?” he asked as he lifted me up only to have me lay my head in his lap once he was seated. “I did at work..” I replied before motioning for the tissue box. “I..I have t-to..” I stuttered, grasping the tissues as if my life depended on it. I shoved the wad against my nose and turned over sneezing several times, “Hih...hitschu! Hitschu! Hih..hih..hitschuu!” I could feel his hand rubbing on my back to comfort me. I sniffed and paused with my eyes still half opened, lips parted so I can breathe. “Finished?” He asked, watching me in a very calm sense.

 

“N..No..” I pushed out. Before I knew, he had replaced the wet paper with some fresh ones, and continued to rub my back until my body was satisfied expelling germs. “Hhhih...hih..” It was stuck. I glared at the blank television, waiting for the tingling sensation to take hold of my passages but it only lingered in the background. “Hih..hih..Nnnmm” My breath hitched, my heart raced...and yet, nothing. I growled from the base of my throat, waiting at bay with tissues crumpled in my hand. “Stuck?” the Latino inquired, noticing my slight struggle. “I..heh...yeah..” I sniffed and blew my nose as hard as possible. The burning, the itching - it was still there but I only lay on his lap as he stroked my hair and waited...until I felt a gentle touch stroke my nose. I began to wiggle. I hated to lose control. I can’t believe he was doing this to me. I began to blush out of embarrassment, even though I was the one that showed him that.

 

“Nno..” I batted away his hand but he immediately grabbed it in a tight grip. “Shh,” he cooed, “Let it go. You can trust me.” Those words were the words I never thought I could hear from someone before. Trust me. Yes...maybe, maybe it was time I did trust someone. “I..heh..o-okay..hih..” I stammered as his finger toyed around my nose. It was torture because that sneeze seemed stuck for good. My nostrils flared every time his oddly smooth fingers caressed the sides, tickling, teasing it out. “O-Oh..I..hih..hih heh..I” My eyes squeezed shut as the irritation took hold of my nose, burning as I took a final deep breath and let go. “Aschkuu! Aschkuu! Heh..heschuu!” He swiftly caught all of them in a mound of tissues, comforting my twitching nose to calmness. I groaned as my head began to pound after the release and found myself losing consciousness.  

 

I felt a kiss upon my forehead and then a soothing hand stroking my forehead. “Te quiero mucho, mami...descansa.”