Page 3 of Coming Home for Love

The culinary school we attended was in a small town, so it only took me a few minutes to get there on foot. I purchased a few tests and went straight to the bathroom in the store. My anxiety wouldn’t let me wait until I got back to campus.

My heart stammered against my chest as I peed on the stick. My hands were so shaky, I almost dropped the stick in the toilet.

When I was done, I placed each stick on the counter and set a timer on my phone. I paced the small bathroom, biting my top lip as I waited.

I thought my heart would leap out of my chest because of how hard it beat.

I jumped when my alarm went off and wished I had someone else with me to look at it because I was afraid of what I might see.

Taking a deep breath, I walked to the counter. Tears sprang to my eyes as I looked at the three positive signs staring back at me.

I started hyperventilating, and I wanted to call my mom or my best friend, but I couldn’t until I told Osiris.

Leaning over with my hands on my knees, I took deep breaths to calm my nerves. A few minutes later, I wrapped the tests in a napkin and left the pharmacy.

I tried to call Osiris when I left, to tell him we needed to talk, but the phone kept going to voicemail. I knew he didn’t have class, so I figured he might have still been asleep.

I walked to his off-campus apartment in a daze. I didn’t know how he would react to the news. I wasn’t sure how I even felt about it. We’d only been messing around for a couple of months.

His car wasn’t in his usual parking spot, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t home. He could have parked it somewhere else or let one of his friends hold it, because he did that sometimes.

I walked up to the door and knocked. And knocked. And knocked. I swear I must have stood there for at least twenty minutes, knocking on his door. I tried calling again but still got the voicemail.

When my knocks continued to go unanswered, the tears came back. I cried hard because something in my gut told me that some funny shit was going on.

“Young lady, are you looking for Osiris?” some older woman asked as my body shook from the sobs that escaped me.

“Yes, ma’am.”

She walked closer to me. “Aww, sweetheart, I don’t know what’s going on, but whatever it is will get better.” She pulled me into her arms and hugged me, making me cry even harder. I didn’t know this lady from a can of paint, but her hug provided the comfort I needed.

“Do you know where he is?” I asked the lady after a few minutes.

She released me and looked at me with sadness in her eyes. “Something about going somewhere. I can’t remember where.”She scratched the top of her head. “I just know his parents came and paid the rent for a few months since he was breaking his lease. Nice family.”

She rambled on about how nice his family was while my heart shattered in my chest. Why would he leave without telling me? And where did he go? I had so many questions, and the only person who could answer them was sending me to voicemail.

“Thank you.”

I went back to campus with a heavy heart and a tough decision to make.

“Whew,” I whispered as I wiped sweat beads from my forehead. The kitchen was hot as hell. Some of my locs had fallen from the neat bun they were in before I left for work, and my feet were screaming for relief. My sneakers were comfortable, but I couldn’t wait to sit down after being on my feet for over eight hours.

The air smelled of cooked food, and I was tired of it. It was the middle of the week, and we had been busy every day so far. I could only imagine how the rest of the week would go. Thursday through Sunday were our busiest nights, and I was scheduled to work all four of those days.

As the executive chef at Taurus restaurant, I worked almost seven days a week. That didn’t happen every week, but it wasmore often than not. Even though I worked that many days, I didn’t always work many hours in a day. Some days, I only worked four hours; others, I would be there for twelve. It varied on the day of the week or if there was a special event going on. I couldn’t wait to have a few days off so I could spend time with my baby boy and do some shopping. The seasons were changing, and my baby had gotten so big, so he couldn’t wear the stuff I had gotten him last fall.

My son was my world, and he was the reason why I went so hard. When I got pregnant, I didn’t think I would finish culinary school or get a job in an upscale restaurant, but I was able to accomplish both with the help of my parents. My mother, Nicole, retired from her nursing job to be a stay-at-home grandmother so I could achieve my dreams. My father, George, was an orthopedic surgeon, so he was able to take care of the household bills. Every week, I gave my mother money to help with my baby since she was the one who fed him every day while I was at work.

I didn’t have a car note since my parents gifted me with a black G-Wagon when I graduated. The only major bill I had was my monthly rent on my two-bedroom apartment. I thought about purchasing a condo but didn’t think it was the right time. I wasn’t sure what I was waiting for, but every time I went to look, something would happen, and I wouldn’t go. Maybe it was the universe’s way of telling me I needed to wait.

I loved my apartment though, and it was perfect for us. There was plenty of room for my son as he grew, so I wasn’t in a rush to move.

“Chef Wynter, the mayor is here to get his wife’s food,” Nicki, one of my coworkers, said as she entered the kitchen.

Nicki and I had been working together for a little over a year, and I considered her a close associate. She knew I had a child but didn’t know the history behind his existence.

“It’s in the warmer,” I told her as I focused on the food I was in the middle of plating.

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