A mouthwatering gig

FIVE YEARS LATER

Lillian’s POV

“Table four wants a refill on the sauteed vegetables and fried potatoes,” A server, Annabel, said as she walked into the kitchen, holding am empty tray.

“Okay, it's ready,” I said, turning off the gas then placing the pot on the table.

Thereafter, I grabbed two clean plates from the dish rack and served the order, which Annabel placed on the tray before exiting the kitchen.

Heaving a huge sigh, I leaned again the kitchen slab, the beads of perspiration on my forehead cooling away as cool, natural breeze from outside wafted into the kitchen.

As I stared at the fascinating mural of various intercontinental dishes on the wall, my mind raced back to five years ago.

I could still remember how hopeless I had been throughout my pregnancy, as I couldn't work, due to the doctor's strict order after I nearly miscarried at eight weeks.

Although my best friend had done her best to make me cheerful, my pregnancy hormones made her efforts futile as I would always wonder if I would ever amount to anything in life.

It also didn't help matters when all the culinary schools I applied to, rejected me, for inexplicable reasons.

At a point, I started thinking the whole universe was against me and nothing would ever go my way.

Thankfully, Nora was always there to reassure me and make me feel better.

I smiled as I thought about Nora. She had long crossed the line of being my best friend and was now my soul sister.

Most times, I often wondered whether she was an angel who had taken the form of a human to do good deeds on earth, because she was just too kind.

I could vividly recall how she had ended things with one of her talking stages, after he asked me to prepare food for him, during the seventh month of my pregnancy.

Although Nora had introduced us, the man had been quite condescending to me, but I hadn't complained because I was a beggar after all and beggars had no choices.

I was about to step into the kitchen when Nora saw me and asked what I wanted. I was ready to lie for him but the ballsy blabbermouth had blown his own cover by telling Nora that he had asked me to make him lunch.

Nora had called him all sorts of unprintable names before asking him to leave. And when he was gone, she sat me down and lectured me about standing my ground, instead of letting people walk over me.

In the past five years, my confidence and self esteem had tremendously improved, and I knew I had my best friend to thank for it.

As for my father and stepmother, I hadn’t heard from them for the past five years which further showed that they both couldn’t be bothered to care about my whereabouts.

Presently, I worked as the head chef of a popular intercontinental restaurant. I started working there immediately after I graduated from culinary school, three years ago.

To say I was proud of what I had become was an apt definition of the warm feeling that always swirled through as I stirred ingredients in pots and pans, and got compliments and tips from customers.

“My chef, you did a great job today,’’ My boss, Watkins, praised as he walked in, a smile curling his lips.

He was a middle-aged man with salt and pepper beards and long hair that he usually packed into a sleek bun atop his head. My boss was married to a lovely woman and they both had a beautiful twenty one year old daughter.

Watkins was one of the few people in my life, who I owed a lot.

For one, he had employed a fresh culinary school graduate to be his head chef, without any rigorous interview, even though he didn't know me from anywhere.

He had believed in me at a point where my self esteem was at the lowest.

“Thanks, boss,” I replied, smiling. “I didn't know you were coming in today.”

“I had some meetings nearby, so I decided to drop by to see how things were going,” He replied, as my assistant chef/intern, Zade, walked in.

“You are late,” Watkins said, to which he shrugged before nodding in my direction and placing an airpod in his right ear.

“That little brat,” My boss said, glaring at the young boy who seemed oblivious, as he cleaned up the kitchen. “If not for the longstanding friendship I have with his father, I won't tolerate his attitude. He's just too pompous and rude.”

In response, I just smiled as I looked at Zade.

Something about him was melancholic but I just couldn't figure out why.

“Okay, I have to be on my way. I'll see you soon. My regards to the little cuties.” Watkins said.

“Alright, sir.” I smiled, and he mirrored it before leaving.

Zade muttered a goodbye and Watkins just shook his head in disdain before leaving.

“I'm leaving, Zade. I'll leave the kitchen to you,” I said, moments later, after grabbing my bag from the locker room.

“Yes, ma'am..” He replied glumly, before returning his concentration to cleaning the kitchen.

Trekking out of the kitchen, I made my way to the parking lot, exchanging pleasantries with some patrons on my way out.

As I plopped behind the steering wheel, my phone dinged with a notification and I retrieved it from my pocket, to see it was a text from Watkins.

“Hi, Lillian. I forgot to tell you that there's this huge event happening in a week. It's the birthday party of a very influential woman and she asked that you specifically cater for the event.”

“Alright, Watkins. I'll let you know my response soonest.” I typed back before placing my phone beside me, and stepping on the gas.

Thirty minutes later, I got home and a smile creased my tired lips as I stepped out of the elevator, into the wing that housed my apartment.

Ringing the doorbell, I waited for a minute before Nora opened the door.

“Hi, babes,” I greeted, as she collected my bag from me. “Thank you.”

“Hi, you, and you're welcome,” She said, as I took off my shoes. “How was work?”

“Rewarding,” I replied, plopping on the nearest sofa. “Where are the babies?”

Nora was about to respond when the pitter patter of feet coming downstairs, wafted into my ears, causing me to spin around and fold my arms across my shoulder.

“Mummy!” My triplets yelled before lunging themselves at me.

“What did I say about running in the house?” I asked, and Caleb, the taller among them, who had an uncanny resemblance to his father, scratch that, his seed supplier, looked up from my belly.

“It's bad,” He replied. “Sorry, mummy. We were exited to show you our drawings.”

“Excited, my love,” I replied, as his two brothers, Connor, the middle one, and Carter, the smallest of them, also looked up, lips puckered in remorseful pouts.

“We are sorry too, mummy.” They said in unison, and I just smiled as I ruffled their manes.

Connor was an equal mix of he who is not to be named and I; he had his grey eyes and straight nose with my brown hair and plump lips.

On the other hand, Carter looked exactly like a little, male version of me.

“Apology accepted,” I replied, taking my seat again. “Now let me see those drawings.”

My babies and I had one another, and that was the only thing that mattered.

Not that irrelevant scumbag.