One Year Later
“On your right!”
“Where are my prawns?”
“Order 221!”
The kitchen at Spiro’s family restaurant was extremely busy on Christmas Eve, but I’ve been told it was close to that level of insanity nearly every day. Due to hiring people from different countries, the kitchen adopted English as a language of communication.
“Good job, everyone! Keep it up.” Spiro’s voice carried over the clatter of dishes and preparation.
“Yes, Chef!” the staff replied in unison.
On the last one, Spiro glared at me, but a smile tugged at his lips. I may have ruined the moniker for him since it made him think of naughty times with me when he was at work. Even that wouldn’t break his focus, so at least he was thinking about me all the time. Was I needy? Yes. Did Spiro mind it? Not at all. He’d told me as much.
I raised my camera and propped it on my shoulder. With a year of successful content under my belt, I’d splurged on professional gear.
“Today you’re getting an exclusive, behind the scenes look from a Michelin-starred kitchen at work. You know the Chef, the ever brilliant Spiro, but this time you see him in his element at the restaurant he grew up in, his family’s pride and joy.
The Hali,which I learned can mean sea or salt, and is the last name of the couple who opened it over two decades ago. Scylla and Chad are the staples of the community, delivering traditional Greek cuisine while also bringing world foods to the palates of locals and tourists who are coming from all over the world to this tiny town that became a worldwide sensation.
Some of you may know this already, but the artistic genius in the family extends beyond Scylla and Chad, and even further than their master chef son, Spiro. You see, Spiro is the youngest of three brothers. The oldest one rocks the socks off audiences around teh globe as a keyboard virtuoso in the rock sensationSwimming with the Sharks, a band that inspired many young musicians to pick up instruments while showing that being different is a good thing. Marin, the middle brother, is the artist painter with a heart of gold, getting recognition for bringing his art to places it can bring the most smiles like hospitals, homeless shelters, and foster homes while also having his paintings displayed in galleries.
The rich family story would make a great TV series, hint hint. If that happens, I wanna pick who plays me.” I giggle toreout of my throat. “The next video will show you the restaurant proper, and following that I’ll be tasting the foods you saw being prepared just now. Don’t forget to subscribe! Give ‘em Kaos!”
I paused the recording and jumped off the counter I’d been sitting on. Spiro warned me not to touch anything, and I’d been good about that. He’d promised a reward if I behaved, so my anticipation for the evening was high already.
Since we’d met a year ago, my audience expanded from social media followers to a few stints on television and being invited to morning shows when we travelled. Spiro and I had been to a different city every two weeks for a year—with Spiro cooking at the restaurants he’d booked himself into in advance, and me filming the experience, tasting foods and reviewing the famous food places, and the smaller venues in little towns.
We’d used the free time for sightseeing, spontaneous sexy times, and attending any concerts we wanted. By now, I had a box full of snow globes that documented my travels.
Spiro had told me once to be myself and find my audience rather than change anything about who I was for the blog. At this moment in my life, I am the happiest I’ve ever been while knowing the best years of my life are still ahead of me with Spiro by my side.
“Try this.” Spiro appeared next to me and fed me a morsel of food.
Flavors burst on my tongue with well-balanced spices on seafood.
“Mmm so good.”
“I like when you say that. I won’t be in your way for the rest of your video. Just remember that the party is at eight.” He placed a peck on my cheek.
“Yes, Chef.” I blew him a kiss as I skittered off to the main dining area, where I shot the layout and talked to the people who’d agreed to be interviewed previously.
The restaurant closed early on Christmas Eve, and by seven thirty, Spiro and I were walking a cobblestone street to Spiro’s house nearby. The white stone structure with a quaint blue door and colorful flowers in the front yard looked like a fairytale house. And to me, it was. When Spiro gave me the key, I had no choice but to accept it.
I remember the moment as if it was yesterday when he knelt in front of the cute door and said: “You already hold the key to my heart. Now I want you to have the one to my house.”
Of course, I broke down crying and offered to pay rent or buy furniture, but we haven’t properly lived in it as we were constantly on the road the past year.
“I want to show you something.” Spiro led me to the living room and stopped in front of an empty mantelpiece that previously held framed photographs from his summer vacations. “What do you think about putting your snow globes here?”
I nodded, sniffling. My heart was too full. “They would make your dreamy house look tackier. I like it.”
Spiro laughed and wrapped his tentacles around me. “I’ll help you unpack them after dinner. Now let’s clean up and get ready because my grandma doesn’t like anyone being late. And trust me, we don’t want to be on her shit list.”
Once at Spiro’s parents’ house, I was hit with a rock-concert-like ruckus of laughter, banter, and people making rounds to the kitchen and back with dishes packed with yummy-smelling food. The close family and cousins ranged from human-presenting folk to cryptids and monsters with horns, tentacles, tree branches, tails of all kinds and scales. The acceptance and love wafted off everyone in buckets.
“Hold me,” I whispered to Spiro as I struggled to take it all in.
