Salty, Bitter, Sweet by Mayra Cuevas

Author:Mayra Cuevas
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blink
Published: 2020-01-06T00:00:00+00:00

We get home shortly after midnight.

“Thanks for the invite,” Diego says, putting the car in park. “It was interesting . . .”

After the disaster dinner, we went to Le Lavoir Public, where a guest DJ from Berlin packed the club. Our night of dancing crashed to an epic end when Lucia accidentally spilled her drink on another drunk girl. They almost got into a fight, so security kicked us out.

“Maybe next time you and I can—” Diego stops midsentence when my phone dings with a string of incoming texts.

I pull it out and read the messages off the screen.

“Looks like Lucia crashed at Pippa’s apartment,” I say, tapping on a photo of Lucia passed out on Pippa’s couch. I show the phone screen to Diego, who snickers.

“Let’s never do that again,” he says.

“No kidding.”

“So,” he says, rubbing the back of his neck. “What are your plans after the summer? You know, if you don’t get the apprenticeship. What are you gonna do?”

“What do you mean?”

“Your dad said you still have to finish high school. Right? Are you going back to America?”

“The apprenticeship will count toward my graduating credits,” I explain, knowing full well that’s not what he’s asking. “It’s my senior year. Like a year abroad.”

“Yeah, but you know . . .” he says hesitantly. “I know you’re working your butt off, but only one person is getting this. And sometimes these things have nothing to do with talent.”

My eyes narrow, as if to say, Get to the point.

He stammers. “I’m not saying you’re gonna loose. All I’m saying is, what else would you like to do?”

“Huh?” Nothing about his question registers an answer. Did I not prepare for this outcome? What’s my plan B? Oh right, I don’t have one.

I blink a few times, trying hard to think through the mental fog. What does my future look like outside of that kitchen?

A deep, dark abyss stares back at me. There’s nothing. I can’t see myself doing anything else. This is it. This is all I have.

“If you could do anything else, what would it be?” he presses. “What would make you happy?”

I shrug. I don’t have an answer.

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