Take me on a trip, I’d like to go some day
Take me to New York, I’d love to see L.A.
I really want to come kick it with you
You’ll be my American boy, American boy
– Estelle (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=h1Hvrr2tpDQ)
It started with me getting the same days off as him. Later – a trip to the farmers’ market, then a lunch, finally a trip to the beach. ‘Vilma, will you be my girlfriend?’ – he asked me after a few dates. I couldn’t say no to the American boy!
He was in his early 30s. I had just turned 21. I was mesmerized by the chef. He was tall and had hazel eyes. And I had always been a sucker for the shades of brown, having blue (albeit out of this world) eyes myself.
He moved quietly, like a cat. I could never hear him approach me. I loved watching him work. Sure, he kept the cooks on their toes and bossed the dishwashers around. But he also prepared delicious meals effortlessly. He ruled the kitchen.
My English wasn’t so great back then. ‘Stop calling me a chief, Vilma. I’m a chef, not a chief’, – he told me after a few mispronunciations. Oopsie daisy!
‘Mom, I’m just chilling on the beach with Vilma’, – he once said while talking on the phone. Chilling? Was he cold? Did he mean I was cold? What did he mean? I couldn’t stop wondering… At the end of the day, I was in the States to improve my English, and it seemed that was much needed indeed.
Just like that our relationship was progressing. We got to spend more and more time together and a couple of gifts came my way. A hanging pot of the most beautiful blue flowers. A mix tape CD (remember those?). And I honestly believe I got double portions of dessert for lunch every day.
However, the summer (THE summer) came to an end. I packed my bags (had to buy some extra ones for the extra goodness to bring back home) and boarded the plane again. Back in my home country, I continued my studies. Mostly, though, I listened to the mix tape CD over and over again and kept telling my sister that, of course, I was fine and was not in love and didn’t even think about going back to the States.
This is what gets me confused. If I want something really bad, should I do everything in my power to get it? Or should I just let it be, and if it happens, it was meant to? How much of where I end up depends on my own actions, and how much – on the mysterious ways on the universe? The world is divided into ‘it was meant to be’ believers and ‘I’m going for it and nothing can stop me’ achievers.
I really really wanted to go back to him. So I did everything to make that happen: I pushed, I begged, I embellished the truth. I needed to see the chef again!