41. Noa
NOA
I drag myself to work, the emotional hangover of last night a dark cloud over me. For better or worse, no one else seems to notice amidst all the fanfare.
A giant banner reads “CONGRATS NOA!” and everyone–tens more people than on a typical Tuesday–claps for me. I walk through the crowd, face red and puffy, throwing out little nods of appreciation.
“I’d love to get a sneak preview of that flavor!”
“It’s gonna be so good!”
“Did you see you and Aarti are trending?!”
I plaster on a smile until I can force my way through to my safe place.
The BFI is cold and quiet. I lean against the door and close my eyes.
My phone buzz buzz buzz es in my pocket and I hastily turn it off.
All morning I’ve been receiving calls and texts, congratulating me, telling me how fun the first segment was.
It’s overwhelming, and I wonder how much more attention Aarti is receiving.
How much more she’s having to pretend to be someone else.
“You’re late,” Stella says, walking out of her office. But when I meet her eyes, I see she’s giving me that classic Stella smirk.
“I sent a sample of your work to Jen and Mary,” she says slyly.
This stops me in my tracks. Jen and Mary have become such symbols of change that they hardly have anything to do with the ice cream approval process anymore. They trust in Stella so deeply that they allow her to make those calls. Having them taste test is…
“Wow,” I mutter. “Thank you.”
It’s difficult to be sincere at this moment, but I am. Jen and Mary are my heroes in more ways than just ice cream, and it’s an honor for them to even try my work.
“They want to see you. In their office… Now.”
My eyes grow wide. “Jen and– now? ”
She smiles. “Now.”
In the lobby, I press the UP button and the elevator doors open.
I walk in and feel like I’m in the Upside Down–my entire world has changed and I have no idea what to do about it all besides breathe and bawl and maybe laugh at the fact that I’ve gotten everything I’ve ever wanted and I’ve finally, finally stood up for myself, yet here I am crying in an elevator on my way up to live my dreams despite everything feeling so entirely fucking wrong.
Ding. The elevator opens and I’m welcomed onto the top floor of Jen & Mary’s for the first time.
The vibes match those of the lobby, but the windows overlooking East Hollywood capture another level of awe.
I walk down the open hallway, lined with photos of the founders, but these are less iconic and more…
personal. Jen and Mary on their rescue dog farm.
Jen and Mary with a positive pregnancy test. Jen and Mary surrounded by their grown children on a family vacation to Harmony Springs.
I stop in front of the final photo. It’s old, maybe the oldest photo of the two of them. Jen cranks a vintage ice cream mixer while Mary tries to sneak a taste. The feeling of new love emanates from the image and I let another tear fall.
“That was our first date,” a voice says from behind me. I turn and it’s Mary Hinklebohm, in the flesh. I attempt to form words but either she knows I’m incapacitated by her presence or she’s got a busy schedule to attend to. Probably both. “Come in, Noa.”
Mary guides me into her office, the bright daylight flooding in. A slobbery mess of a mutt hobbles over to me from her bed and plants her face between my palms for chin scritches, which I oblige.
“That’s Mrs. Pierogi. We came to town to rescue her and bring her back home to Wisconsin.”
“I love pierogies,” I say, reminiscing about making them with Aarti just a few nights ago.
I turn to face the desk and Jen sits behind it, a walker to her left. I’ve never seen her with that before, so it must be new.
Mary gives Jen a quick kiss on the temple and they sit behind their custom mahogany dual desk.
“Please, Noa, take a seat.”
I give Mrs. Pierogi a boop on the nose before sitting, and she waddles back to her bed like it’s business as usual.
“She seems comfortable already,” I say, still nervous to be so casually chatting with my heroes.
“You’d never know she was chained up near Skid Row with no water or shade mere hours ago,” Jen sighs. “Dogs can be so very forgiving of us humans.”
I nod, not sure how to hold a conversation with these legends.
“So, Noa,” Mary begins. “We got to try your new flavor for Up Late . Incredible work.”
“Reminded us of our early ice cream days,” Jen says. “Classic even though its flavor profile is deeply complex.”
“Thank you,” I say, trying to maintain a normal breathing pattern.
“It was great, but… the other one was even better.”
I freeze. The other one?
Mary pulls out the test pint with Sweet Talk scribbled in my handwriting on the side.
She removes the reading glasses from her gray curls and turns the pint in her hand. “Mango kulfi with a rainbow swirl center.” She pops the lid and grabs a spoon from her desk drawer. She dips into the middle and twists, revealing the beautiful core I worked so tirelessly on.
Jen steeples her fingers. “You can tell you put so much of yourself into it,” she says.
Yeah, my literal tears .
“It’s… complex,” she continues. “Certainly not like anything I’ve had before.”
Mary takes the giant spoonful of rainbow swirl and savors it with an mmmmmm. “And it is quite possibly the best thing I’ve ever put in my mouth.”
Jen takes a spoonful for herself. “Stella didn’t share the details, but we understand you had to make a complicated decision to set this flavor aside to appease the client. We really value that discretion.”
“But!” Mary adds, “We’d also like to recognize you for the genius work of this pint in particular, and your contributions over the years, which Stella has sung praises of.”
“That is why,” Jen grabs Mary’s hand, “we feel secure in our choice to take time away from the business. We’re promoting Stella and we need someone to take her place.”
They look at me hopefully.
“…Me?” I ask.
“We’d love for you to accept the position of Chief Flavor Officer, Noa,” Mary says. “There’s no one else we–or Stella– would want to fill her shoes. And of course you’ll keep working together, but you’ll run the lab.”
“Custom flavors for a range of clientele–big events, activists, all kinds of artists and celebrities.” Jen beams. “You’ve proven you have what it takes to really shine in a role like this.”
What have I proven about myself? That I know how to prioritize marketability over honesty? That I’ll always be a yes-woman to everyone but me?
“If you accept, of course,” Mary gives me a cheeky grin. Because why wouldn’t I accept? I’d be crazy not to accept.
“Thank you,” I muster. “I really appreciate the offer…”
Jen and Mary exchange a glance. “…But?”
I clear my throat. Time to speak from the heart, sweet talk be damned.