Red As Love

"It's not like that, Dad. We're not dating."

"Treat her well, son. She's had a hard life already."

"We're just friends, Dad."

"Then be a good friend to her."

Kat started to spend most of her time on our farm. After classes, she used to come home with me. She taught me to dance and I became pretty good at it.

We went to the movies. We went dancing. We went hiking. We walked hand in hand in the woods. We laughed. We hugged and one day we kissed at the willow tree.

One thing led to another and, we had sex. After that, I worried she was going to consider me her boyfriend or something and tried to keep my distance. I didn't want to get emotionally closer because I didn't want to end with a broken heart like my dad. She saw through my concerns and came up with a proposal I never expected.

"Have you heard about friends with benefits, Red?"

"I heard something about it, yes."

"Friends with benefits are two friends who have a sexual relationship without being emotionally involved or give any kind of commitment. We have sex, but there are no feelings involved. If we stopped having sex, we'd still be friends."

Of course, we were both fooling ourselves. Each had strong feelings for the other. Deep feelings. But, for different reasons, we were both afraid of them.

I think Kat didn't want to drag me into her crazy family situation. On the other hand, I was going away to college soon; it wasn't the best moment to start a committed relationship.

I wasn't ready to completely open up my heart to any girl, Kat included. I was comfortable with the "friends" label while I enjoyed the benefits. I was afraid to take the risk of loving someone only to get hurt.

Of course, we went to the prom dance together. We ended up at the old willow tree watching the sunrise together. I could sense Kat had something on her mind.

She took a deep breath and said, "I love you, Red."

"Kat..." she put her hand on my lips to stop me.

"Let me say what I need to say, please." I nodded. "You're leaving for college soon. We only have weeks left, and the last thing I want is that you leave with me hanging over your head."

I opened my mouth again but she shook her head.

"I won't be able to handle being in a relationship with you while you are away. I'll hardly see you." she sobbed.

I pulled her into my arms and held her tight. We rocked back and forth in silence till the sun was up.

"I love you, Red, but we both know our relationship has no future."

"Are we breaking up?" I asked, stupidly.

"We are friends, remember? Friends never break up."

"Right," I muttered, unable to say anything else. Even so, it hurt like a break-up.

Leaving home to go to college meant leaving Dad alone. I thought about changing to a nearer one, but Dad didn't want to hear anything about it.

"I'm not a baby, so stop treating me like one. I can take care of myself. You're on the brink of adulthood. You are a strong, intelligent, and independent person. I'm proud of you, Red. So proud of you that I'm willing to understand if you change majors or take a different path in life than me. However, I'm not very understanding of skipped classes or failing grades."

"I won't, Dad. I never did and I'm not planning to start now. Don't be afraid to ask for help, or let me know that you just need me," I told him.

"I'm not going to miss your heaps of laundry left in all the wrong places. Please remember to bring some dirty clothes home when you visit," He joked.

I went to college and hung in there because Dad encouraged me and emphasized the importance of education. My plan was to get a degree in business administration.

Kat and I exchanged some emails or talked through Whatsapp during my first months in college. Not many details. Lots of 'miss you', 'wish you were here' and so on.

Every time I asked her how she was doing, she responded with a vague 'I'm doing okay'. At some point the emails stopped. I tried to reach her on her phone but a voice informed me that the number was no longer in service.

I imagined she hadn't texted or called because she didn't know how to tell me whatever we had was over. Probably she had found a new friend with benefits or a boyfriend and wasn't interested in me anymore. So I stopped trying to reach her.

I came home as much as my schedule would allow. On my next visit, I was surprised when I learned that Kat had moved away and no one knew where she actually was. Apparently, things at her home had gotten worse and she kind of ran away from her abusive father.

"The reason why that bastard gets away with it is because his wife refuses to report him. Kat endured more shit from her father than any girl should have to. In the old days, we'd have kicked in the door of his trailer, mashed the prick and thrown his ass in jail and that would've been the end of it." Dad ranted.

I prayed a silent prayer for her. I hoped she was doing well wherever she was.

Four weeks after Kat's last email, I started having sex again. Since the friends with benefits agreement had worked out fine with Kat, I looked for fuck buddies instead of girlfriends. I mainly traded sex for tutoring sessions. I wasn't interested in a serious relationship. Kat was the only girl I trusted. The only one I loved.

You know the old saying, 'absence makes the heart grow fonder' Being away from Kat for all this time had only made me realize just how especial she was, how much I needed her in my life. Kat had taken away that feeling of permanent loneliness, and replaced it with love and care.

Since I didn't want to become a burden for Dad, while I was in college I applied to work at a local restaurant and got the job. Many college students worked there. I started out from the bottom and eventually did just about everything there throughout my 4- year employment: serving, bartending, bookkeeping and some minor managing. It was there where I decided that I wanted to manage a restaurant of my own someday. I learned some of the most valuable business lessons from my manager.

When I finished college, I talked with Dad about my plans.

"Do you plan to work on the dairy farm with me?" Dad asked me once I was installed back home.

I let out a long sigh and told him, "I'm not sure, Dad. Initially, I thought I wanted to be a farmer like you. Now I'm not so sure anymore. Working at the farm was all I ever knew. I don't want to live handcuffed to a cow and have no life. No offense."

"None taken, son. What do you want to do with your life from this point on? How do you plan to make a living?"

"I want to open a restaurant. I want to own a place where people gather to enjoy a well-cooked meal and have a good time. It won't be just about serving a quick meal. When you walk in our doors, it should feel like home. We could have live bands on the weekends and a dance floor, a karaoke machine and..."

"I suppose you learned something about business administration in college, but you know nothing about restaurants and cooking, Red." Dad interrupted me.

"I'm not planning to become a chef, but to run the place. I gained incredible insights into the inner workings of how to run a restaurant at the place I worked during college. I know about numbers and profit margins. I just need someone to take care of the kitchen. I was planning to place an ad asking for a chef."

"Well, there isn't a decent restaurant in town, and people like me have a lot of problems getting a good meal. All we have are those fast food and sandwich places for backpackers and tourists." He rubbed his chin. "It's not a bad idea. Not a bad idea at all. You need to find a home for your place."

"I was thinking about Old Man Carter's building in the town square. It used to be a restaurant when I was a kid. It's been closed since he retired."

"That's a good idea. I see you have been seriously thinking about it. Well, here's the deal: I'll talk with Graham Carter. He's a good friend of mine. If the place is in good shape, I'll give you the money to start your business, and whatever you need to get it up and running. You'll never get a loan from the bank. You can pay me back when the restaurant starts making money. If your business fails, you can come back to work with me at the farm and pay me back with your work."

"It's a good deal. Thank you, Dad." We shook hands.

"No need to thank me. That's what family is for. The herd of cows and the land one day will be yours anyway."

I'm sure inside, my father was questioning my decision to invest in such a risky venture, but he supported me anyway.

The building in question was located in front of the historic Middletown Plaza. Dad and I inspected it. It needed some renovations, but nothing really major. The second I walked in, I knew it was the right place. As we walked through, I knew exactly how the restaurant would be laid out and how wonderful it would be for our community. At the far end there was a twelve-foot-wide staircase that led to four rooms upstairs.

The leasing price was right, so we took it. It was a lease with the option to purchase. I decided to call it 'The Jammed.' I have no idea why. Maybe because that was how I was feeling about my own life at that time.

The next day I placed an ad in 'The Middletown Gazette': CHEF WANTED

That's how I met Tony.

CHAPTER 7

A few days after I placed the ad, a tall fellow with short dark hair came in and strutted around as if he owned the place. He peered over at me and asked, "Are you the owner?"

"I am renting the place. Red Harding," I answered, wiping my hand on my work pants and offering it to my visitor.

"Tony Marino, I'm your new chef." He accepted the hand, shaking it politely.

"Please excuse the mess; I am getting everything ready to open."

Tony nodded as he inspected everything around with an approving look. "I like the old country-style decoration scheme. It's a great place, with good vibes. It feels like home. I'm really going to enjoy working here. I like the town too. I'm looking for small-town life, peace and quiet. No traffic noise or honking cars and sirens at all hours. More than that, I enjoy having some down-time that almost has to be scheduled in this crazy world."

"You've come to the right place. People here are neighborly. We have a nice community if you don't mind gossip. We have nice forests, mountain trails and a lake."

Tony nodded absent-mindedly while he kept inspecting everything around.

"I supposed this is going to be the kitchen space."·

"That's right. That's the old kitchen. I didn't start working on the new kitchen yet. I was waiting to hire a chef and take some hints from him or her."

"Don't worry. I'll take care of it."

"Why don't we sit and talk, Mr. Marino?" We pulled up a couple of chairs and sat down.

"Please call me, Tony."

"Okay, Tony. I am Red. How many years of experience do you have working in restaurants?" I asked, taking out of my pocket a printed list of questions I had found surfing the net.

"I come from a long line of cooks. My mother was a cook. My grandmother was a cook and so were her mother and grandmother. I carry with me a large number of notebooks full of family recipes."

"Okay, next question. Do you have management experience? If so, how many employees did you oversee?"

Tony snorted amused. He took the printed paper out of my hands, took a brief look at it and tore it in two. "Internet questions? You're kidding me, right?"

I looked at him, not knowing what to say. My lack of experience couldn't be more evident.

"I'll tell you everything you need to know about me, Red. I come from an Italian family. I grew up in Staten Island. My family has always worked in restaurants. I had kitchenware instead of toys."

"What happened to your accent? You don't sound like a..."

"Guido?" Tony finished.

"I was going to use a better word."

"Don't bother. 'Guido' pretty much sums it up. Truthfully, not everyone from Staten Island sounds or acts like a goombah. I left Staten Island when I was 24. I've been out of that environment for a long time, working here and there. Always in restaurants. You lose your accent after a while."

"So, are you big into cooking Italian food?" I asked him.

"That's my favorite cuisine to prepare but I can cook anything. You cook?"

"I wish! I love to eat, but I can't cook to save my life!" I said with a laugh. "Why didn't you stay in the family business, Tony?"

"Because I'm gay." He looked at me, studying my reaction.

I scratched my head.

"I don't get it."

Tony smiled. "I was raised in a very Catholic and traditional Italian family. Italy is terribly into the whole machismo thing. That's true especially in my family, so I kept it to myself. When I reached a certain age my family thought it was time for me to get married, so they arranged a marriage with a good Italian girl. That forced me to come out of the closet. To make a long story short, my father disowned me and kicked me out of the family with a large amount of money and a 'don't you ever come back here'."

I shook my head. I didn't understand the anger and rage homosexuality caused in some people.

"I'm sorry to hear that, Tony. It must be hard for you." I said with sympathy.

He waved my concerns away.

"Thank you. Since then, I've been working here and there, but truth is I'm tired of hopping from kitchen to kitchen. I want to settle and this is the perfect place. A brand new place where I can do things my own way. An empty canvas where I can create my art."

I coughed discreetly. "I like you, Tony, but I still haven't made a decision."

"You haven't tasted my cooking yet." His mouth stretched into a smile. "I'll go buy some groceries and cook us lunch. Then we'll discuss the details. I never discuss business with an empty stomach."

Tony went out and came back an hour later carrying two large paper bags. Once he installed himself in the old kitchen, he began to sing something vaguely operatic at the top of his voice while he cooked. The smell coming from the sauces simmering in the kitchen was mouthwatering.

I was really looking forward to lunch.

****

"This is delicious! The best pasta I ever had the pleasure of tasting." I actually closed my eyes to savor the taste. "Ravioli?"

Tony grinned at me, "Close, but no. Tortellini. The sauce is an old family recipe. I had to improvise because I couldn't get some herbs and spices."

I cleaned the plate with the last bit of garlic bread. He shook his head amused.

"Okay, let's talk business now." He took out his checkbook, asked my full name and wrote a check for me. "I suppose this amount covers my share in this partnership. If not, let me know and I'll write another one."

I looked at the check in my hand and almost choked. It was a nice check, with lots of zeros.

"This will cover cooking equipment and service equipment and it will help us to hang in there till the restaurant starts to turn a profit. In the first year of business, it typically takes three to six months to break even. It helps that we have no real competition around. This is a small community and everyone will want to support you. This business is very difficult, but it's a wonderful and satisfying life. It's lucrative too. But there are a thousand moving parts, and you need to be knowledgeable of all of them."

I had no doubts that Tony was exactly what I needed to succeed.

"There's something I don't understand. You could run your own restaurant. Why do you want to do it with me?"

"First of all, I'm a chef, not a manager. I'd rather work in the kitchen than in the business aspect of a restaurant. But, this is not just about owning a business, Red. As I told you, I was disowned by my family, and for us, Italians, 'la familgia e tutto', family is everything. I lost mine. I'm hoping to make friends; friends who accept me for who I am and become family with time. You are already part of your community. People know you and like you and your father. I want to be part of this community. Does it make any sense to you?"

It did. I offered Tony my hand and he shook it. We never had a major disagreement. I placed his check in a shared account along with the money that Dad lent me. We both had access to it. He was in charge of the kitchen and I became manager. Tony was the best business partner I could have wished for and a five-star chef. His cooking became legendary. With time we also became good friends.

****

"Please, I need to work. I'm a struggling single mother trying my best to make a better life for my daughter. I'll sweep the floor. I'll wash the windows. I'll clean plates. Anything. I have Social Services on my back wanting to take my daughter, Sabrina away from me. Please, help me! I need money and a steady job and I need it now."

The pleading was coming from Mary, a young woman who had been doing a lot of menial jobs around the area. In a small town everyone knows everyone, whether you know them personally or through the town's gossip mill. I had heard about Mary. She was a wonderful, hard working, single mother who was struggling to do the best she could for herself and her daughter. She had lost a couple of jobs because she was late or took a day off to take care of her daughter.

Tony dug his hand in his pocket, took out a roll of bills and gave her two one-hundred-dollar bills.

One of the things I knew about Tony was that he had a big heart. He had a thing for people in difficult situations. He looked at me seeking approval and I nodded. I thought it was a good omen to start our business with an act of kindness.

"I don't want charity. I want to work." Mary said, refusing to take the money.

"This isn't charity. This is a cash advance loan from your next paycheck" Tony explained to her.

It took her a couple of second to register what Tony said.

"Oh... This means... I got the job?"

"Yes, you did, Mary. Welcome on board." I said, happy to be able to help her.

"Thank you... Thank you... Thank you... I promise I'll be the best employee you've ever had." Happy tears were running down her face.

She hugged both of us.

"Do you have any experience waitressing?" Tony asked her.

"No, I don't but I'm a fast learner." Mary's hands were shaking when she took the money Tony offered her again.

Tony smiled and said, "Good friends will help until you're unstuck. I like your attitude. Your first assignment is to memorize the menu." Tony gave her a printed copy of it. "Can you start tomorrow? I'll give you a professional waitress training crash course."

Mary wiped the tears from her eyes.

"You got it boss; you won't regret your decision." She practically danced out of the place.

We never did. She was a great waitress, and with time she not only became head waitress but also part of our 'family'.

CHAPTER 8

The renovations were finally over and 'The Jammed' opened its doors. Of course, everyone in town knew about 'Red's restaurant' or about 'John Harding's son's place'.

Clients came the first time out of curiosity, but they came back because of Tony's cooking. His dishes were addictive; once you tasted them you had to come back for more. His singing became as popular as his food. We never had to invest a dollar in advertising. Word of mouth worked just fine. The Middletown Gazette dedicated a glowing article to us.

Mary took care of the dining room, leaving me to handle the bar and a couple of the tables nearby when necessary. Tony hired someone to help him in the kitchen.

For the most part, the lunch crowd was steady. We had a lot of regulars, who didn't always venture far from their normal eating habits, much to Tony's dismay. Even so, we had the most wonderful, faithful customers in the world.

Dad was one of the regulars. "I'm really enjoying having a well-cooked meal for once in my life." He used to say. That was the only side reference I heard him say about my mother after the divorce.