Chapter 51 Ice Bath
Ice Bath
Jack
“I’ll be here waiting, baby,” I hear Chester murmur to Kiara, hugging her close. “Take all the time you need.”
I avert my eyes to give them privacy as Kiara whispers something back. It’s a breezy morning on the beach, but beautiful,
mild and balmy and full of soft sunshine. It’s a shame that Poppy isn’t here to experience it. I’ve been checking the weather
in New York every day, and they’ve had a miserable stretch of rain.
It’s one of a dozen things I can’t seem to stop doing, where Poppy is concerned. And soon I’ll really need to stop, because
she’ll be in California. When Douglas called the other day to offer me the Green Street job after all, he mentioned that Poppy
won’t be in town come the new year.
San Diego. A brand-new venue for her to work her magic on, a managing partnership like she deserves. She’ll do well out there.
Even so, I know I won’t stop looking for her face in every crowd.
Kiara walks over to me, her bare feet sinking into the sand. She has Sal’s urn tucked against her chest. I do my best to smile.
Chester gives us a wave, heading back to his truck.
“Ready?” she asks.
“Ready as I’ll ever be.”
She loops her fingers through mine, leading the way down the beach to the little cove where Sal liked to fish.
His letter is in my back pocket. I’ve smoothed it out and read it so many times that it’s already looking worn. There’s so much to say, so many things pressing against my lips. Decisions have been tumbling around in my mind for days now. But first, Sal deserves a proper send-off.
We find a quiet spot out of the wind and wade into the clear water. Little silver fish dart around our toes. Kiara smiles,
the corners of her mouth wobbly. I hold on to her hand again, squeezing.
“I’m here with you.”
“I know.” She kicks her foot in the water, causing the surface to ripple. “I think he’d like this.”
“He definitely would.”
“Do you want to say something?”
“You go first.”
She takes a handful of ashes, tossing them into the darker water ahead. “I miss you, Daddy,” she says in Spanish, her voice
quiet but strong. “I love you. I hope you’re with Mom now, and happy.”
When she tilts the urn in my direction, I take a breath.
For months, I’ve avoided saying goodbye. First because I didn’t think I deserved it, and then because I didn’t want to face
the reality that he was gone without our relationship truly being fixed. I didn’t want to take over his restaurant when it
held so many memories, all of them leading to one painful, stupid decision that I’ve wished for years I could take back.
But then I read his letter.
I pull it out now, tracing my finger over the looped “J” in my name on the envelope. I angle it so Kiara can read it too,
for the first time.
Jack—
Asking you to share ownership of the Sailfish with me wasn’t meant to be a punishment. I wanted to do it with you. In my excitement
for your passion for food, and the love we create when we cook, I didn’t listen to you. I’m sorry that I made you feel as
though I’d only love you if you stayed. I’m sorry that I allowed the distance between us to widen.
But I have been proud of you, day in and day out. I’ve watched your career from afar and seen all that you have accomplished.
You are a son to me. You are family.
That will be true no matter what you choose to do with the Sailfish. Whatever is in your heart is the right path.
Love always,
S—
When she’s finished, I fold it back into that careful square. I take a handful of Sal’s ashes, tossing them gently into the
water.
The first time I read that letter, I was on the floor of his kitchen, my back to the walk-in door, arms curled around my bent
knees. I finally let the grief that I’d been shoving down relentlessly, month after month, break free. I’d always felt unwanted.
I’d always yearned to be someone’s son. Sal offered me that, and even more, he offered me a future. Without him, I might not
have found my way to food. I might not have found the one thing that lights a fire in me, that challenges me and guides me
like no other.
“One time,” I say, so quiet Kiara needs to lean in to hear, “I was learning how to make that one fish dish he always kept
on the menu, remember? The grouper?”
“With the burst tomatoes and coconut milk sauce?”
“That one. It wasn’t that difficult. But I couldn’t get it.” I remember the frustration of that moment like it happened yesterday.
In later kitchens, with tough assignments, I’d think about this miserable evening and find a way to push through. “I ruined
a dozen plates, and I was pissed with myself, because Dad had just started to let me work the line.”
If Kiara’s surprised to hear me finally refer to Sal that way, she doesn’t show it. “I remember the night you first started.
You came home with a burn all along your arm. Grinning like a madman.”
“This was a little later, maybe a few weeks. I was keeping up, mostly, except for this. And he pulled me aside—” I stop, clearing my throat to ward against the sudden sting in my eyes and nose.
“I thought he was going to chew me out for wasting product and slowing down the service. I think he could tell how panicked I was, how I was thinking I’d screwed myself out of a job. And a placement.”
“And you liked living with us by then.”
“I liked it a hell of a lot better than I let show.”
Kiara nudges her arm against mine gently. “Don’t worry. I could tell because of how you spoke to Pepita.”
My lips quirk up at the mention of Sal and Kiara’s crotchety old cat. She loved to visit the restaurant and took great pride
in controlling the mouse population. I haven’t let myself think much about Gator since everything happened, but now sadness
creeps in. “What happened to her, anyway?”
“She passed, but it was from old age. She had a good life. What did he say that night?”
“Well, first he hugged me.”
“Of course.”
“It was the first time I’d ever . . . I don’t know. Maybe in my whole life, really. Definitely as a teenager.” My throat feels
thick again at the memory of that hug. I’d spooked like a horse, unsure how to react. Years of being shuttled from landing
place to landing place taught me not to expect much affection. “And then he told me that the best part about cooking is that
it’s not permanent—for good and for bad. Maybe a dish is terrible. It’s still one dish, and it’s eaten or not eaten. It only
exists in the moment it’s produced. The same with a really good dish. Especially with a good dish.”
“That sounds like a total Dad thing to say.”
For a moment, I can’t speak. I just nod tightly.
Sunlight dances on the water. The fish at our feet continue to swim.
“I’m sorry I left before we could officially become family.” It’s difficult, finally putting all of this into words, but I
owe it to Kiara. “I thought that if I went through with the adoption, and we still fought about how I should handle my future . . .
I didn’t want him to regret what he did, you know? I didn’t want him to reject me, so I didn’t give him the chance.”
“He regretted what happened that night.”
“So did I. Ki . . . I don’t regret leaving for culinary school.
I don’t regret traveling. There’s so much good food out there.
So many creative thinkers, so many traditions, so many things to learn.
But I wish it happened differently. I wish I’d been able to call you to talk about it all, and visit you and Dad. ”
I keep my eyes on the horizon.
He apologized. And the best apology from me, although he can’t be here for it, is to continue his legacy.
“I want to keep Fable.”
Kiara’s eyes widen, but she also looks wary. “Are you sure?”
“But only under one condition. I want you to come in with me as a partner. I want it to be ours, not just mine.”
“Oh, Jack.”
“I know you have your career,” I add quickly. “I won’t interfere with that. But I don’t want to do this alone.”
“What about Poppy?”
“She’s becoming a managing partner at a restaurant in San Diego.”
“And I’m sure she’s only doing that to give you space in New York.”
“Have you talked to her?”
“No. I got you in the breakup, unfortunately.”
Despite myself, I smile. “Too bad for you.”
“I know you love her.” She shakes her head. “Everyone knows except her. Seems a bit backward, doesn’t it?”
I should’ve told her I loved her that night on the dock. Maybe then, things would’ve shaken out differently. I’ve been dreaming
about it, night after night: a moment where I do tell her, and she stays. Or worse, where I tell her, and she leaves me just
the same. I know how deeply I hurt her—not just by refusing Fable, but by lying. By pushing my own resentments and regrets
about family onto her.
“Dad would like her, wouldn’t he?”
“Oh, he’d love her.”
“And he’d tell me I’m being an idiot about this?”
“Undoubtably.” She smiles, as if remembering something specific. “He’d tell you to get your head out of your ass and not let
her go.”
“What are you thinking of?”
“Turns out he had a bit of a chat with Chester a while back.”
Laughter tumbles out of me. “Of course.”
“You need to go to New York, Jack.”
My heart breaks into a sprint at the mere thought. Seeing Poppy again, even for a moment, would be worth it, despite the risk
that it could all come crashing down around me. “It might be too late.”
“I guess you’ll just have to make her a better offer.” Kiara’s voice is light, contemplative. “I plan on being a very silent partner, which means you’ll need someone else to butt heads with, or you’ll turn into a monster.”
“Well, when you put it like that.”
“I’m just saying, I’m not going to argue about the menu with you. But we both know someone who will.”