Page 47 of Holding Out for a Gyro
“Why wouldn’t you keep trying?”
“Because there’s only so long you can take constant rejection before you lose all hope.” I’d meant to say it like a dark joke, but it came out harsh, baring the truth of my frustration. She didn’t laugh. “One day I woke up and I couldn’t bring myself to send out one more application. I just accepted my fate.”
“Wow. That’s a crime, Bas.”
Great. Add her to the long list of people I’ve disappointed.
My sister Zoe once said,You always want an easy win, and when you don’t get it, you act like you never wanted it in the first place.
But Chelsea wasn’t the author of my discontent, and I wasn’t going to spoil the mood defending indefensible life choices, so I gave her a peek into my options. “There are usually openings at those buffet places.”
“Buffets?” She sounded scandalized. “A trough where food isjudged by quantity? No way. You should be running an upscale restaurant.”
I loved her confidence in me, but it wasn’t that easy. “Restaurants fail. All the time. Good restaurants.”
“I’m not suggesting you start your own restaurant. Just—don’t you have ambitions?”
Maybe my sister was right, and I was the Wentworth, an unsuitable choice due to my lack of fortune.
“Of course I do. I’d love to create my own menu someday. Build a regular following. It isn’t as simple as all that. This city is oversaturated already. I wouldn’t even begin to know what city isn’t.”
“Have you looked?”
I shook my head. I didn’t want to argue with her. Had my parents put her up to this?
She went on. “You have family in Richmond, right? There are hundreds of restaurants there.”
I set my jaw, intent on remaining civil. If this were Zoe or Ana prodding me, I’d return fire. I was so used to sparring with my family, and Chelsea sounded too much like my sisters, chiding me, challenging me, it was hard not to fight back. But Chelsea hadn’t grown up in a safe environment, and I didn’t want to drive her away with drama.
But then she said, “You need a plan to get out of your rut.”
She was one to talk.
I blurted, “And what are your plans? Are you going to hide away in a coffee shop until you retire?”
Fuck. I wanted to take it back.
And yet my question was valid. She wasn’t any different than me, living down to expectations.
Chelsea glared at me but didn’t back down. “I do pretty well with my graphic design work.”
“But you want more. Are you ever going to follow your dream?”
“My secret dream isn’t a career. I just want to get out of this place.”
“What steps have you taken?”
Her shoulders sagged, like the wind going out of her sails. “It’s not that easy.”
“Exactly my point.”
“The difference is you have a special gift, something you’re passionate about, and I have nothing to give anyone.”
Her admission hit me like a lightning bolt. How could she think that? “I wish I could convince you how wrong you are.”
“I’m not.” She shrugged with such nonchalance, it was like she was stating a scientific fact. “But I appreciate that I’ve fooled you.”
A smile crept at the corner of her mouth, and I reached over to poke her, crooning, “I can show you the world.”
