“Why you go from studying chemistry at Oxford to becoming…” She gestures at him.
“The help?” he teases, laughing at her raised eyebrow. “To be honest with you, I was an idiot. I had no idea what I wanted to do with my life, and I happened to be quite good at chemistry, so I thought:Why not?”
Mebel laughs. “You come to the best university in the world because you think:Why not?”
“Yes, actually. I had no idea what you could do with a bachelor’s degree in chemistry. But I was fortunate, because as it turns out, there is a lot of chemistry to be done in the kitchen. It’s not just about chopping and frying things. Through mydegree, I was able to learn about how the different chemicals in each ingredient work, how processing them in different ways can obtain a whole other taste and texture and look. If I had it my way, every culinary school would offer a chemistry degree, and it would be compulsory to take a few classes in it.”
“Absolutely not,” Mebel snaps.
Alain throws his head back and laughs, the sound filling the quiet courtyard, and Mebel wonders how she has found herself here, in this incredible little spot with this incredible man.
By the time Alain drops her off back at the Saint Honoré School of Culinary Arts, Mebel realizes that her cheeks are hurting from smiling so much. The last time she’s felt this ache was maybe thirty years ago, when Sammy was born.
“Bonne nuit, Mebel,” Alain says when they reach the doorstep.
And Mebel, full of wine and delicious food, reaches up and plants a soft kiss on his cheek. Perhaps to Alain, who is used to a European way of life, a peck on the cheek is nothing, but to Mebel, this is the most daring thing she has done since the time she was fifteen and stole out of her house to watch a late-night movie with her cousins. She leaves before he can say another word, her head buzzing, her mouth stretched into a lopsided grin, and traipses inside feeling as light as a butterfly.
Chapter 13
The next two weeks aresome of the best times in Mebel’s life. It isn’t that she has found her purpose, since she’s still unsure about the value of becoming a chef, but for the first time in a long while, she has a very defined goal and she is only too happy to work hard at it. Not to mention she now has an excellent group of friends—yes, even Bruce she is now considering a friend, albeit an irritating one she also sometimes wishes would not show up to class. She’s even stopped wearing her custom-made Hermès chef uniform because she no longer wants to be seen as someone different from her classmates. She hasn’t stopped wearing her makeup though. She’s not an animal.
In the mornings, Mebel wakes up bright and early and, after a quick wash, blow-dries her hair and applies her makeup carefully. During this time, Gemma usually barges into her room and begs to use Mebel’s Dior lipstick. The first time Gemmadid this, Mebel was somewhat taken aback, hovering anxiously as she watched Gemma rummage through her makeup drawer. But after this happened for the third morning in a row, Mebel found herself expecting the intrusion. When Gemma doesn’t show up the fourth morning, Mebel surprises herself by knocking on Gemma’s door and demanding to know why Gemma is choosing to sleep in. Doesn’t she know that they have Introduction to Soups today, which is, according to Chef Clarke, “one of the most important modules you could ever take”? Gemma rolls her eyes but smiles before prancing into Mebel’s room.
Gemma has become a sort of honorary daughter to Mebel. Mebel has always thought of herself as a boy mom, grateful that she has Sammy as her son. But there is something so delightful about Gemma, both buoyant and comforting at the same time. She fills Mebel’s room with a cheerfulness that Mebel finds both irritating and soothing in equal measure, and whenever Mebel tells her off, which is all the time, Gemma merely laughs and squeezes her arm affectionately. Once in a while, Bella pops by as well, and they stay in Mebel’s room going through her closet and trying on various pieces of luxury clothing.
Their favorite topic to grill Mebel on is, of course, Alain.
“Have you fucked yet?” Bella says one afternoon.
They are getting ready to go out for dinner, and Mebel has generously allowed the girls to borrow her clothes. Mebel, who is carefully lining her eyes, almost stabs herself with the Shu Uemura liner. “Excuse me?”
Bella levels a flat gaze at her. “Mebel, you’ve gone out on, what, three dates now? It’s a fair question to ask.”
Mebel sputters. “Of course not! You think I am a—an easy woman?”
Gemma giggles. “Mebel, trust me, there is nothing easy about you.”
Mebel harrumphs. “Good! Being easy woman is very bad. Premarital sex is very, very bad.”
“Okay, but both you and Alain are technically married,” Bella says.
“Not to each other!” Mebel cries.
Both Gemma and Bella share a look, then dissolve into wild peals of laughter.
“Aiya, both you kids are terrible!” Mebel snaps. “If you don’t behave, you cannot wear my Ferragamo dress. You also, Gemma.”
“Okay, we’ll behave,” Gemma says. “But, Mebel, Alain is going to want to do it at some point, you know.”
Mebel wrinkles her nose. “Oh, if he want to do it, then he can go find someone else. I never like the sex. All that…skin.”
Gemma and Bella are both staring at her like she’s just started singing the German national anthem. After a thick silence, Gemma clears her throat and says, “Mebel, has Henk been with anyone else other than you?”
“Well, Wendy, I guess,” Mebel mutters. Even now, the thought of it hurts, like a serrated knife biting into scar tissue.
“Aside from her,” Gemma says. “Before you, I mean.”
“Of course not! What part of premarital sex is bad you don’t understand? In my culture, we stay virgin for our future spouse.”
