Don't Diss the Chef

Instead, Sarah got home late and had obviously had a few more drinks than her usual. When he tried to talk to her, she began to go on and on about the wonderful time she'd had that evening with Phillip, her new co-worker.

"Phillip?" Mark asked, "I don't recall meeting him."

"I guess not, he's only been with us for a couple of months," the slightly inebriated Sarah admitted. "But you'd like him. He's really smart and went to one of the top schools on the East Coast. He's pretty funny too, once you get to know him."

A light went off in Marks brain the second that Sarah laid that little tidbit on him. The change in Sarah's attitude had begun just about the same time that this Phillip character had come to her office. He wasn't at all persuaded that he would like Phillip; in fact he suspected quite the opposite.

"Ah. Did his wife join you at the bar?" he inquired.

"Don't be silly," Sarah said with a laugh, "He's not married!"

"Really? My, what a surprise," Mark remarked with a grimace that went unnoticed by Sarah. "Was it Phillip who suggested to you that I might one day rise to the level of a wage slave, if only I went to college?"

Sarah frowned thinking about Mark's remark.

"Oh no. I thought of that myself. But we had been talking about your job and how you hadn't gone to school. You know..." her sentence just trailing off.

"Has it ever occurred to you that Phillip might be trying to split us up, and that he is doing it by convincing you that I'm not good enough for you?"

"No, no, no. Phillip is just a friend. He's not interested in splitting us up," Sarah insisted.

"So he's never tried to ask you out, or put moves on you?" Mark pressed the point home.

"Well, when he first arrived he asked me out once, but I told him that you were my boyfriend, and that I couldn't go out with him."

"Sarah, I think that he does want to go out with you, and probably figures that if your boyfriend wasn't around, he would have a shot at getting into your pants!" Mark explained, becoming rather upset. "And one way to get in between us is to try and poison your mind against me."

"Mark," Sarah got loud right back in Mark's face, "You're being unfair to Phillip. He's done nothing to try and 'get in my pants' since I told him no. You're just jealous because Phillip is an investment banker with a degree, and you're just a..."

Sarah stopped, and she instantly become sober, because she knew that she had gone too far.

She could see the look on Mark's face that combined the pain of what she had implied about him, with disgust that she had finally exposed her true assessment in a moment of candor.

"Mark, no, no... I'm sorry; I didn't mean what I said. I was just angry and saying the most vicious thing that came into my head..." she said, her entire being filled with a sense of shame.

Mark, shocked and hurt, put an end to it.

"I think I'm going to go to bed. I have an early day tomorrow," he said in a quiet voice, his strength having drained out of him. "Let's talk after we've both had a chance to calm down. That way maybe we won't say anything more that we will regret."

And with that, Mark turned and walked back to the bedroom.

By the time that Sarah joined him, Mark had turned and faced away from her side of the bed. She climbed under the covers and moved over to spoon with her beloved, but he was still and unresponsive to the warmth of her body for the first time since they started living together.

"Mark," she whispered into his ear, "I love you. I love you the way you are. I'm so sorry; I didn't mean to hurt you."

Eventually, they both fell asleep.

The next morning by the time that Sarah woke up, Mark was already gone. She was disappointed that he hadn't even bothered to wake her, and had (she figured) gone off to work kind of pissed off. But she felt more optimistic in the daylight — she would make it up to Mark this evening. In the meantime, she needed to get to work too.

Mark had started off his morning in the opposite kind of mood. So far as he was concerned, he had been putting up with Sarah's complete lack of respect, her dwindling affections, and a growing ration of nagging for the past two months. And worse, now he knew that the sudden rift in their relationship could be attributed to one Phillip Woodword. Mark was not a believer in coincidence, and the arrival of this man on the scene was just too convenient.

But as he sat and had his first cup of coffee for the day, Mark shook his head to clear his mind, because he couldn't let his deteriorating relationship with Sarah interfere with business today. Mark had to put his shit together, because in a couple of hours, he had a meeting this afternoon with Luci Vandenhousen, known in L.A. food circles as 'Luci V.' Luci was a well-known 'angel' in the L.A. restaurant scene. She found great chefs, usually just as their reputations were growing, and she would enter into partnerships with them — they supplied the cooking and the recipes, she supplied the financing, and publicity and voila! A hot new restaurant would be born.

And Mark was her next project.

The downside for Mark was, Luci was an attractive blond in her early forties, and a well-known 'cougar' with a particular taste for young chefs. She was said to have sampled the wares of every chef whose restaurants she had funded. One of the dirty little secrets of the industry was, that like rock-and-roll musicians, celebrities, and politicians, the top chefs also had 'groupies' — one of the reasons why so many of them were divorced.

"At least," Mark thought to himself, "if I have to service Luci, I won't have to worry about two-timing Sarah anymore." As he'd sat, he made his decision. That afternoon he was going to move out of the apartment that Sarah and he had shared.

After Mark had prepared the lunch meals, he left them for his assistant to finish, and took one of those rare afternoons off. He returned to the apartment, and packed his bags. A sad and depressing thing for him, because he truly loved Sarah, but felt it was his only choice.

He didn't need a mother telling him what to do, nor a condescending virago, harping day and night trying to 'improve' him. At this time of his life, taking advantage of the opportunity to open his own restaurant was simply too good to pass up.

Before he returned to the restaurant, he wrote out a note and left it for Sarah to find on their dining room table.

~*~*~*~

The day dragged on slowly for Sarah. Even though she thought she had repaired the damage she'd done with Mark, their fight the night before — and she had to admit to herself that it was a fight not just a spat or disagreement — it had left her afraid that it would leave a permanent stain on their relationship.

She realized that she was desperately in love with Mark, regardless of his job, his working hours, or his lack of a degree. And finally, she was feeling terribly guilty at the fact she had been such a bitch to her lover and partner for the past couple of months.

One of the first things she concluded was that she was going to stop allowing Phillip to have the influence on her opinions that she'd ceded to him since he arrived on the scene. Her opportunity came that morning when he dropped by her office.

"Hey Sarah! How's it going this morning?"

"Not all that well, Phillip. Could you sit down for a minute?" she asked. He took a seat in the chair across the desk from her.

"Sure. By the way, I had a great time with you last night. You're really a lot of fun to be around."

"That's one of the things I want to talk to you about.

"After I got home last night, my boyfriend and I had a big fight. You know that I appreciate your trying to help me out and give me advice, but I'm afraid that some of the ideas that I've been picking up from you are hurting, not helping. I know that wasn't your intention, but that's what the result has been. So, if you don't mind, I would prefer if we didn't discuss my boyfriend or our relationship anymore."

Phillip tried to look abashed on the outside, but inside he was jumping for joy that his strategy had been so successful. So now he would just have to make an adjustment to his method.

"Oh Sarah! I'm so sorry. I certainly didn't mean to cause you any trouble. All I was doing was being a sounding board for your frustrations, and giving you whatever guidance I could.

"But I will absolutely stay away from the subject of your boyfriend, if that's what you think is best. I hope that we can remain friends, though."

Sarah nodded, "Absolutely — after all we still work together, and see each other every day, so I wouldn't want it any other way. But I think from now on, we need to keep things on a more professional basis."

"Absolutely," Phillip agreed, assuming that Sarah's stance wouldn't last long after she broke up with her current boyfriend. Sarah couldn't see the grin on his face as he walked back to his office.

The hours passed with agonizing slowness, until lunchtime finally arrived. Sarah was out the door right at noon, which was earlier than she regularly took her lunch, and across the street to Bistro Parisian to talk to Mark.

"Alas no, Miss Sarah," replied Pierre, the maître d' of Bistro, "Mark said he had some business to attend to, and left. I expect that he will return later this afternoon, if that would help?"

"Thank you, Pierre. I guess that I can come back later."

Pierre looked at Sarah and could see that she was agitated and unhappy not to find Mark at work. Perhaps she was worried that Mark was seeing another woman, he though briefly, before dismissing the thought. No. Not Mark, that wasn't his style. Something else, he decided.

"Miss Sarah — you look, how you say it? Unhappy and disturbed. Can I bring you something to eat? You know life's difficulties are always easier to face on a full stomach."

Sarah had to smile at Pierre's concern as well as his attitude towards food. Like Mark, he lived a life centered around food and the Bistro.

"Thank you, Pierre, but I don't think so. I'm not really very hungry."

"Oh Miss Sarah, Mark made Lobster Bisque for the soup d'jour — can't I get you at least a bowl of bisque and some fresh bread still hot from the oven..."

Sarah could feel her resolve melting at Pierre's description of the soup, so she allowed herself to be convinced. Pierre sat her at a table that was in the kitchen and served her there himself.

While she ate, Mark's coworkers came by, one after another, and each sat with her for a minute or two, talking and passing the time in pleasant companionship until they had to get back to work. They all had words of praise for Mark: he is a great chef, he is a pleasure to work with, an all around nice man.

Sarah actually had a great time and enjoyed just being in the hot, steamy, bustling kitchen, filled with dedicated hard working but pleasant people. These were Mark's friends, and this was his world.

And Pierre was right — the troubles between her and Mark seemed less ominous and more solvable to her on a full stomach.

The only worrisome thing was that Mark didn't get back to the Bistro in time for Sarah to see him. She had to return to work.

~*~*~*~

Luci was right on time for the meeting at 4:30 that afternoon. There wasn't really much left to do as far as the partnership was concerned. Over the last two months they had gone over the details a hundred times — the menus, the décor of the dining room, the kitchen requirements, the staffing, the location, and the financing. All that was left now were the signatures on the papers. The lawyers had reviewed the documents and everyone all around conceded that the contract accurately reflected the desires of both parties.

As Mark looked across the table at Luci, he couldn't help but think to himself that she was a work of art — the art of the cosmetic surgeon!

He knew she was at least forty-years old, but she looked ten years younger, at least if you didn't look too closely. Her nose had been straightened, her cheekbones enhanced. Her breasts weren't that large, but they stood out like bullets from her chest, firmer than would look natural even on a younger woman. Her ass was so perfectly rounded, that it screamed of liposuction and surgical shaping.

She was thin, almost to the point of anorexia, which surprised most people when they discovered that she was the part owner of half-a-dozen of L.A.'s top restaurants. But it was easily explained by the hours each day she spent with her expensive trainers in her home gym, who kept her fit and thin.

She was, though, a natural blond, a fact to which her lovers could attest. She did not go in for 'brazilians', leaving a thin blond landing strip for their delight.

"I can't tell you how excited I am, Mark," she exclaimed, an obvious glow lighting her face. For Luci, starting a new restaurant was comparable to being pregnant and giving birth for most women. They had just finished signing the paperwork and were finishing off their celebratory glasses of Champaign before Mark had to get back to the kitchen to prepare for the dinner seating.

Even Mark was feeling better, despite the situation between him and Sarah. With his own restaurant, he was sure that he could hit the big time. Mark was so pleased, in fact, that he didn't object when Luci reached across the table and took both of his hands in hers.

Luci was ecstatic, and could hardly stop talking.

"We should be able to open in about six weeks — thank god that the kitchen was already set up, and is fairly new. So we get the decorators in there and let them go to town.

"In the meantime, I'll start talking up 'Trattoria Veni Vidi' with my contacts at the Times, and Channel 7. Once they are on to it, everyone else will follow. Oh, I guess L.A. Magazine too. They will all be completely blown away by the food."

As she finished speaking, Luci looked up to see a young woman with red hair standing at the doorway of the Bistro staring directly at their table with a horrified look on her face. Feeling more than a little mischievous, Luci raised her voice.

"Mark, the two of us are going to be SO good together; it's a marriage made in heaven!"

Then she looked back at the redhead with a smug look, and smiled.

Sarah's face fell when she heard the blond bimbo sitting with Mark say those ugly words. Whatever pain she had caused Mark, she had just received back ten-fold. Tears began to run from her eyes, even before she could take a breath, which was followed by a sobbing gasp. Then she turned and ran out the door into the evening.

Hearing her sudden gasp, Mark disentangled his hands from Luci's grasp. He turned, just in time to recognize Sarah fleeing from the Bistro.

"Sarah, Sarah! Wait!" he called at the fleeing figure.

He stood up from the table so quickly that he knocked the chair he was sitting on over. He ran to the door, but it was too late. By the time he made it out onto the street, Sarah could not be seen. He looked one way and then the other, but it was made more difficult because it was right at closing time for all of the surrounding businesses, and the sidewalks were at their most congested of the day.

Mark slowly walked back into the Bistro. Luci, having done her damage, kissed him on the cheek as she walked out.

"OK Mark. We'll talk tomorrow, and get YOUR new restaurant started. By the way, who was the woman?" Luci asked, already having a fairly good notion.

"She's my girlfriend — I mean... I guess my ex-girlfriend."

"Oh no! I hope I didn't frighten her off!" Luci replied, with a sincere tone that bespoke of her acting abilities.

"No, I don't think so. I didn't expect her for a while. She told Pierre that she was coming by this evening to talk to me. I guess she wasn't that keen on the idea. She was probably going to bitch at me for one thing or another," Mark said, trying to make light of what had just happened. But Luci could tell how badly the break-up was affecting him just by the dispirited tone of his voice.

She reached over and caressed the side of Mark's face.

"Don't worry, darling. You are going to be so busy for the next couple of months, you won't have a second to worry about women. And after 'Veni Vidi' is open, your main problem will be keeping the women at bay!' she laughed, not saying what she was thinking — that one of those women stalking the lithe young chef would be her.

Strangely enough, she was right. For the next six weeks, he was too busy to worry about anything except getting the restaurant opened in time.

~*~*~*~

When Sarah arrived back at the apartment that she and Mark had shared, it didn't take long for her to discover that he'd left her.

His clothes were gone from the closet, his toiletries were missing from the bathroom, none of his personal effects remained, just the photos of the two of them together still hanging on the walls.

She found the note on the table.

Dearest Sarah,

Sarah, I love you more than anything else in this world — yes, even more than my other love, cooking. I can't conceive that I will ever 'not love' you. You were my perfect other half. You completed me; you filled my soul with joy. You were a perfect lover, and a perfect love. I'm mystified how I will be able to live without you, but I can promise you, it will be with less happiness in my life.

But I cannot go on living with you the way things have been recently. Your lack of respect for what I do, and the goals that motivate me in MY life, hurts me beyond my capacity to explain. And I will not accept living with someone who has recently begun to criticize everything that I do, and everything that I am. So perhaps it is time that we part.

Perhaps you have already left me in spirit, leaving me for Phillip, or some other man who will better match your needs. I hope you find the right man, the man with whom you can live a fulfilling life, have the children that we talked about having one day, and who can love you as much as I do. I truly wish you happiness and love.

One last thing: I left you a dish of Coq au Vin in the refrigerator. Bake it at 275 degrees for about two-and-a-half hours. Remember not to cook it any higher than 275 (the oven cooks a little hot), and don't forget to take it out on time — set the timer. You'll have leftovers for a couple of nights out of that; just reheat until it's warm enough to eat.

Love forever,

Mark

Ps: I also put some tamales that I made in the freezer. The cooking instructions are on a piece of paper in the bag.

Pps: Don't use the damn microwave to reheat the Coq au Vin; use the oven at a low temperature.

Sarah read the note and sat at the table most of the rest of the night bawling her eyes out. Even on his way out the door, Mark wanted to make sure she didn't go hungry.

"What kind of bitch am I," she asked herself, "to drive off a man like Mark! And how could he possible imagine that I had anything, anything at ALL, going with Phillip."

She was having a difficult time reconciling what Mark wrote in his farewell letter with what Sarah had seen in the Bistro. She simply could NOT believe that Mark was involved with that skanky old bimbo who reeked of plastic surgery, regardless of what she heard. An old cougar like that was just 'so not Mark!'

Not that it really mattered. Mark had left her, and that was the only important fact.

Sarah didn't go into work the following day because she was felt so miserable, but the day afterwards she knew that she couldn't keep acting as if the world had ended, and that she had to continue living, so it was back to the old grind.

There was a shocking surprise awaiting her at work that day.

Sarah was sitting in her office when her friend, Brenda, knocked on her door.

"Come on in Brenda. What's going on?"

Brenda looked rather uncomfortable.