Page 85 of That First Flight

“Yeah?” I question him. “Thank you. It was way busier than I anticipated it would be.”

“It was one of our busier nights for sure,” Jan says as she brings a stack of pans to the dishwasher.

Kevin is the head cook here who I work directly under and Jan is one of the other cooks working alongside us. Kevin has to be in his fifties but you can tell he looks younger than he is. His gray hair definitely gives away more of his age. Jan looks to be about my age which is nice to have someone close to work with.

Since it was my first night behind the line, I took some time to intently watch the way each person does things, learning that they each work together as a seamless team. Most of them don’t say many words when we’re slammed. If they do, it’s one word and everyone else just knows what needs to be done. Kevin says “broccoli” and Jan knows exactly which plate needs it. Otherwise, it’s light conversation between rushes.

I like to think I’m a pretty quick learner. Once I picked up on some things, I jumped myself right into their groove.

“You fit in perfectly.” Jan smiles as she comes back to help clean up.

Pride takes over every single part of me.

I did it.

My first shift.

I still can’t wrap my head around the fact that the goal I set myself when I was just a young girl is finally happening.

“I still feel awful about that order I messed up. Who messes up a baked potato for a sweet potato?” I shake my head.

“If that’s your only mistake, then I would call this the best night.” Kevin laughs.

“Ugh. I just hate to see people unhappy.”

“If they are unhappy over a potato mix up that can easily be fixed, that’s on them, girl,” Jan says.

Kevin stops wiping the counter to turn to me. “Most people fail miserably on their first shift here. They aren’t fired or anything, obviously. But first shifts are the hardest for new employees and you were kind of thrown into the deep end with a busy weekend shift.”

“And you didn’t serve a well-done steak to someone who wants it rare. That kind of mistake costs a whole new steak. You fucked up potatoes. That’s nothing.” Jan waves her hands.

Dream job. Check.

Supportive coworkers. Double check.

“Thank you guys for making me feel better.”

“It’s the honest truth. I don’t know about Jan over here, but I’m honored to work with you.”

“I agree with that.” Jan nods. “Now get out of here and go celebrate a successful shift.”

“No. I can stay to help clean up.” I pick up an empty container that once held the potatoes that will haunt me for shifts to come.

“Nah.” Kevin grabs the bin from my hands. “We got this tonight.”

I thank them and say goodbye before moving quickly to hang up my jacket for the night in the little locker they gave me in the employee lounge. I can’t wait to get back to the apartment to tell Oliver all about how amazing this night was.

Mackenzie is likely sleeping because she’s one of the few kids who loves their sleep and likes to go to bed early. But knowing her, she’s going to wake me up at the crack of dawn to hear all about it. She was just as excited as I was for all of this and there’s truly no better feeling in the world.

When I made the decision to chase this dream, I was nervous about how it would affect her. I’ve quickly learned there’s no better feeling than having the person you love more than anything in the world cheer you on and be just as excited as you are to watch everything unfold the way it should.

Once I make it back home and step foot into the apartment, my eyes widen. It’s bright as hell here. Like every single light is on which is different from the last time I was this excited to come home.

My eyes scan the room before landing on the kitchen where I find Oliver. He’s leaning on the counter, using his hands to anchor him there as he reads a book that’s laid out in front of him. His black frame glasses thick with white dust sit on the bridge of his nose. He has that ridiculous apron on that I can’t help but chuckle at every time he brings it out.

My eyes land on the mess that’s scattered everywhere.

Flour. Sauce. Pans. Open cookbooks. A random assortment of kitchen appliances that I’m confident he has no clue how to operate.

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