Chef no. 2
The natural light shines through the window, casting a shadow of the window frame over the left side of a customer’s face. It warms up the store in a way that comforts the already serene room. A constant clamoring and clinking fills the space. My brothers in the back running round the kitchen to see something come out with satisfaction. They work hard every minute, but the people here won’t see. Another five dollars and thirty seven cents. The people in line, one after the other, has an indecisive expression. They flow in and out like the waves out there, some with the intention to buy and some with no intention at all. The chimes ring throughout the room as a new face enters and as a familiar one departs. On the right, I’ve seen them before. My father’s friends. He still talks to them every day as they come in for more food, drawing in closer to us. Sergei; he once was the rugged teenager I saw running through the streets once in a while. He found himself a love, the love of his life. They came in and asked for chak-chak that first day. Today, my father sat down with them and their kids to tell them the story of our restaurant. How he will one day hand it down to me and my brothers. How we will be the familiar faces that find commerads in the people that walk in to our place for the first time and the last.
Reeling in
This morning, she walked herself to school in her little school uniform while her brother sleeps silently in bed. In her short pleated navy blue skirt and white long sleeve blouse, I wrapped her around in a grey denim jacket and buttoned her up as to send her off to the world in the form of a gift. I said to the world, give her your best as she gives you hers. The joy of hers that sparks my light should bring back hope. Her mother would have stood where I am now, watching her skip off in the distance, but instead, here I stand alone, feeling her spirit by my side. I speak to her every day and tell her of our beautiful daughter and son.
My boy runs down the stairs after a long night’s rest, speeding faster as his tiny footsteps echo around the corner of the kitchen.
Tätä! Tätä!
Picking him up under his arms, I swung him around in circles as if to shake the energy out of him.
My boy, what would you like for breakfast? Syrniki?
After another quick breakfast, the nanny walks in and I must kiss him goodbye.
I’ll be back soon, Adan.
Another 4 hours at the market on Coney Island Ave. Another five hours at the pharmacy. At least the walks are long, but not long enough to need a ride. I return home to Elena and Adan playing with their blocks in the living room. I take them on a walk on the boardwalk in the afternoon. They put on their rain boots so we can walk to shore and sit by the water under the sun. Carrying my fishing poles and bait on my back, I follow them all the way to the edge. We sit at our spot down from the Tatiana Restaurant where we last dug a seat into the sand. Elena runs to the edge of the water in her big yellow rain boots, striped beanie, and green jacket, ready to swing out the fishing line for a catch. As I walk through the sun-stricken sand from our seat to the shore, a tear is shed at the sight of her. Her mother and I would have stood here together as teenagers, my hands over hers as we fling the line into the water one after the other. I wish I could give them more. I wish they could have her back. But I am proud. Proud of the smiles they keep and the purity of their souls.
The couple
A little bit of everything, like what you’d see in the movies, that’s what we have right now. A perfect view that stretches so far along the water to where you can’t see anymore. The sun hits just perfectly to glisten on the tips of the waves. How did we get so lucky to be here, see this sight? He wondered what I found so beautiful about this place. I told him I could stroll down the never ending path until I feel the satisfaction of the sight of nature. The sand between my toes, the sounds of the waves crashing; it’s just what you would imagine, but you can’t truly understand what it’s like until you experience it yourself. Kicking off my shoes in my vibrant purple dress, we walk until we can’t feel our feet. The bridge in the distance on one end and the rides on the other. I could run out as far as the eye can see with no regard for time or real world problems. The setting of the sun makes the rays of oranges and yellows beam into my eyes and his.
The mother and daughter
These children will once again carry on what I once lived, a theatre of colors, music, and mesmerizing performances for hours on end. The excitement on her face looks not dissimilar to a photograph of myself my mother once showed me along the same boardwalk. Not a care in the world, how did I somehow have the same amount of joy and curiosity that fit into that little head? I want to keep her in my arms yet let her explore. There’s so much to see in Little Odessa. A new show is in town; the signs point to the light washed ticket booth leading into the theater. he lights of the theater sign flashing one by one in that old fashioned way – the same as it did twenty years ago.The ballet inspires her, as she dances along the boardwalk. I walk alongside her as she prances, and I see in her imagination that little girl that once wanted nothing more than to explore and become the beautiful dancing princess fairy she always imagined she would be. Ask her what she sees in her future, and it’s only her creative work. She wants to express, be a woman of the arts, and take on ambitions larger than life itself. In a whirlwind of emotion no force could stop her. Who would dare to step in her path; they’d be a man running into a bulldozer. Those eyes could never see tragedy or pain. She should be cradled and treated with care every moment of every day.
Music Box
These people stare at me with their eyes thinned and strained. These eyes don’t know me. They don’t know my home. They don’t know my language or the music I play. They come here as tourists, but why must they look at me with such disgust? I have sat at this bench with the sound that emulates my home. My family, my culture, and my story.
My wife, love of my life, Sasha. She sat at this bench with me, listened with me, and watched the people on the boardwalk. The sound of the speaker shocks people; I can see it in their eyes how they find me unusual, yet I’ve seen more than theirs have known combined.
