“Call me when you get back. Maybe you can schedule a date with me in between work sometime?” Valentina says shyly.
She is entirely different from the girl I remember at the beginning of the week. She was smug, bordering on arrogant, and full of way too much confidence. Now I’ve seen the real Valentina. The perfect combination of confidence and humility. Witty, silly, caring, and everything I’ve been looking for. I can’t imagine my life without her. I know the second I make it down to New Jersey, I will want to call her and find out exactly what she’s doing and where she is so I can rush over and hold her in my arms. Maybe she can come over and meet my cat. Whatever we do, I don’t plan on ever letting her go.
“For you? Always,” I finally reply and kiss her for the last time today, but not the last time forever.
I get inside Miss Piggy and wave goodbye to Valentina as I watch her get smaller and smaller from the side view mirror.
“So, pendeja, did you get the investment?” Maria asks.
“I did. He gave us a check to cover the rent,” I reply.
“Ohshiiit. We’re saved!”
I shrug. “Yeah.”
“Or not? Are you not going to take the money?”
“I’m not sure yet.”
“You really are a pendeja,” Maria says on a sigh.
I’m not sure what’s going to happen when we get back. There’s so much that has changed. The future of the restaurant is uncertain. Who knows what will happen between me and my mother and our already-strained relationship? It’s scary, not knowing. But I’m excited. Excited about the possibilities.
Miss Piggy sputters a few times before we drive through the gates and leave Camp Hollow Pines.
Epilogue
One Year Later
Come in. We’re Open.
I turn the sign to face the street, alerting anyone passing by that we’re here and ready. I twist the lock, turn on the neon “OPEN” sign, and pair the Bluetooth speaker with my phone to play the “Chill Music” playlist Valentina made. She says it brings a sense of peace to the restaurant.
It’s been a year since we drove through the camp gates to our reality, and I can’t believe how much has changed. I look around the restaurant. I take in a deep breath, getting a subtle scent of vanilla. The restaurant has changed so much. I decided not to take Luciano’s money, and La Mariposa did end up closing. It just wasn’t meant to be. I like to think it was just time for that chapter to end. It was almost like closure for me, letting go of the only memory of my father I thought I had. When I returned, I told my mother the restaurant was closing. She wasn’t thrilled. We got into a huge fight about it. She kept blaming Rosita, Roberto, and even me for everything. I’m no longer the perfect daughter in her eyes. I messed everything up. We don’t talk much anymore, and I’m no longer plagued with the guilt of calling her every day or trying to keep the restaurant afloat so she doesn’t hate me or tell me I’m not good enough. I’m past that now. Maybe our relationship will change one day, but I’m still healing for now.
“Morning!” Faye walks in the front door, causing the bell to ding.
“Morning, Faye! Did you grab the—”
“The marketing materials from the print shop? You know it. And I even stopped by the coffee shop and got a little treat,” they say, shaking their iced drink.
They don’t have to tell me that it’s most certainly a pumpkin spice latte. ’Tis the season, I guess. They hand me the papers, and I look at each one carefully, making sure there aren’t any misprints or typos. They don’t need to be perfect, I try to remind myself. But when you’re running a new restaurant, you want to make a good impression at every opportunity.
I look at the menu flyers. The restaurant’s name is on the top in a pale-pink color: La Florecita. The little flower. I smile every time I see the name.
“I’ll get started on the arroz con leche for our special this weekend,” Faye says as they put their name tag on that reads “Manager.”
Once I realized I didn’t want to run a restaurant alone, I did the one thing I should have done years ago. I promoted Faye to manager and gave them a hell of a lot of responsibilities, which they handle beautifully. I couldn’t have picked a better employee to be a part of my crew.
“Is Valentina coming by later? I wanted her to see the new logo ideas I’ve marked up.”
“Why does she need to when I’m right here?” I joke.
Faye laughs. “Well, I doubt the co-owner would be too happy if she didn’t also approve of the logo designs, Isa.”
When La Mariposa closed, Valentina and I made a huge decision together. We took out a business loan and bought La Mariposa from my mother to reopen it. That way, I knew she’d have enough money to live comfortably for the rest of her life, and I could live the life I truly wanted to experience. It was the wisest business decision I have ever made. Valentina completely revamped the restaurant. With my permission, she gave the whole place a paint job. It went from that tacky sponge pattern to a crisp, creamy white. She hung plants from the ceiling near the front window. She claims it gives the impression of “health,” which makes me laugh when I think of the arroz con leche Faye is currently making in the kitchen. The fish tank is also gone, so I no longer have to imagine drowning myself in it because of Elvis Crespo. The tables are all lined with tablecloths, and the wood floor got a new stain.
The murals are covered up too, which was a little sad for me initially. Those murals held a lot of memories. I also experienced a serious amount of guilt when we painted over them. After a couple of panic attacks, we could cover them up, and it was as if a weight had been lifted off my chest. Instead, Valentina curated a beautiful collection of photographs to hang up, telling a story. Some were ones she took during her travels when she was younger. One of them was a photograph we took at Camp Hollow Pines. However, my favorite one is photo of my father standing in front of La Mariposa with the words “My dream came true” under it.I thought it was the perfect way to keep his memory alive.
