Whoever said 'there's no normal day in a chef's life,' had aptly quoted all of us.

In my culinary school, if someone would have told me that I would work at The Three Aces under the great Marcella and her subordinate, Steve, I would have laughed at their faces. Yet, that dream of mine came true.

What ensued as a bonus was Philip.

Never did I imagine meeting him again after our final adieu in Roseville. It took the entire universe to conjure up tricks, getting me into the same place of work as his. However, like all rosy tainted images, our honeymoon period couldn't sustain for long.

Philip decided it was time to move away from restaurant management and back to what he loved. It took me some time to understand what he wanted but now I knew. It was his dream to serve the country, no matter how and now he had the opportunity to do so.

As usual, my partner in crime, Linda, checked on me by tapping a spoon near my station. I let out a tight smile, assuring her I wouldn't burst my teary dam open in here. These past few days where every night I welcomed tears and melancholy into my bed, it was she who straddled me up on the back of life, ordering me to march on.

God! I couldn't fathom my life without her support.

With the clock ticking closer to the dinner rush duration, the sounds and warmth of the area around us increased like a musical symphony attaining its highest tempo. Everything as usual had to go without a glitch. Everyone worked in coordination, searing and plating, saucing and tasting, like well-oiled parts of a machine.

When the phone on the outer ends of the kitchen rang up, we were looked at each other. There was no free hand to grab it. Steve dashed towards the device, shouting at me. "Check the plating, Daisy."

Like players running to tackle a baller, I ran towards his station, clearing the edge of the plate before bending my knees to see the content and presentation from an eye level.

The seared scallops with a tint of brownish top married well with the pale yellow of the saffron sauce. With a fresh green leaf of parsley decorated on it, I tapped at the table, shouting. "Order up."

The waiter moved towards the plate in one swift motion, carrying the plate away.

Only when I returned to my station did I see the rest of the world into focus. Marcy sat at a corner, cradling her legs to her chest while Steve dialed someone, moving frantically around the place. When I tossed my gaze at Linda, she seemed rattled off her usual mojo.

"What happened?" I reduced our distance and pulled her by her elbow.

With an agape mouth, she seemed to have lost all her bearings. "Marcy's husband met with an accident. He seems to be in critical condition."

I looked over to Marcy. The unusually calm and composed lady with a generous dash of confidence was hiding behind this new avatar carrying only one expression. Fear.

Holding onto her knees, she rattled herself back and forth in a slow bending position. I moved carefully, one step at a time before towering over her.

"Marcy," I called her out. With a heaving chest and reddened nose and eyes, Marcella looked up with the innocence of a child who had no clue what occurred in a few minutes. "Don't worry. Everything will be fine."

The moment I said it, she tugged at my apron. I bent over, only to be clutched into her chest while she bawled like a baby, coughing and wheezing as air escaped her lungs. Linda gave her a glass of water which she reluctantly drank for our satisfaction. Her eyes and ears only remained focused on Steve's words who walked around the place, attending the call.

Once he placed his device in his pocket and tossed his apron aside, we knew catastrophe was only about to begin.

"We need to leave now, Marcy." He grabbed her off her place and rattled her lifeless body to stand on its own.

"Can we come?" I asked before realizing the restaurant still needed to serve.

"No." his hoarse voice answered.

Steve snapped his fingers, pointing towards the exit door and the wait staff rushed to open it. He tossed his car keys to one of the busboys who dunked and caught it, running out of sight. Linda held Marcy to steady, walking her out. When I moved in parallel, someone tugged at my elbow and pulled me back.

"You have to handle the place," Steve's grey eyes were widened to a degree that had me worried. He stared at me, unblinking and not breathing. "Can you handle it?"

Great men rose to occasions that challenge them. I was an example of how weak people crumbled and fell. When the moment of glory and recognition presented itself, I ran back into the warmth and comfort of my stove.

"Daisy, I need an answer," Steve yelled but not in a harsh way. It was his frustration and pain which emerged through his gruff voice.

"I... I... don't know Steve. I can't..."

My answer didn't change his sunken expression. Pulling me inside the walk-in freezer, Steve turned me around. I scanned the kitchen through the small glass attached to the door. Staff stood rudderless, orders in the form of slips hung from every workstation. Piled up orders added to everyone tensed expressions. What I witnessed wasn't a happy sight.

"This is the moment every chef longs for, Daisy. The moment to act. Please understand that today you have the chance to prove yourself."

"What if I screw up?" I turned to him. His fear submerged beneath the kindness of his smile.

"What if you are a hit?" He questioned, placing his arms around my shoulder and turning me to face the glass again. The staff had abandoned their workstations to gather in a corner. "Three Aces needs a leader today. Can you be that leader, Daisy?"

"Yes," feebly I spoke, eying the gathering outside. My heart thumped louder and faster. Blood pumped up through me like a dam burst, carrying me in its adrenaline-induced current.

"I didn't hear you, Dais. Can you do that?"

"Yes," I roared, pulling the door to the warm world that awaited me. "Come on people, man your stations. Pick up your orders. We have hungry people outside. Pick up. Pick up."

I was a stand-in leader but a leader nevertheless. Clapping my hands together, I stood where the goddess once stood. The wait staff aligned in a row, awaiting instructions. I walked over to them, instructing them of the wait and the narration they will state to the customers while letting them have their choice of alcohol on the house.

Steve was no longer seen at the exit door. When Linda reemerged from outside, it was a confirmation. The eagle had left the building. The dove was in charge.

With orders working their way up to my station, I channeled my inner Marcella. She had a tunneled vision every time a place was presented to her. I tried inculcating the same in my work.

Working across plates, giving them the final touch, I did a few taste checks before letting the dishes leave their place of birth. Only time would tell how my work was but the surge of electricity when the staff presented me with the plate and the symphony of hearing the magical word chef was a different experience altogether.

The doors flung open and my heartbeats arrested. With the hope it wasn't a chef's nightmare; of food being sent back, I leaned over to see who arrived.

"How can I be of help, Chef?" Philip emerged through the door, facing the side where Marcy usually stood. He acted as if the past few days never occurred.

I had to act professionally. Though Philip was my boyfriend, here he was only a colleague. With him tapping his feet, I looked down at my stand before answering.

"You can say what I told the wait staff. Circulate, apologize for the delay and tend to their drinks."

"I think," Philip leaned forward. "I can be of no use in that. How about something else instead?"

If this was his way of playing with me right on the biggest day of my life, he choose wrong. Clearing the scratch I felt at the back of my throat, I straightened up. Philip must have deduced my action to have retracted to his original position.

"Let me see what I can do." He walked out without any confirmation from me.

It took a couple of more hours for the dinner rush to die down.

I was too tired of standing at one place, circulating in a small area and yelling at the top of my lungs for the staff to work quickly that by the time the last of the orders were sent out, I walked into the freezer and fell on my knees.

Usually, the harsh cold inside to preserve meats and cuts would hurt my bones. Today, the frigid temperature soothed me. I calmed the undulations l I felt inside me every time the thought of food was sent back crossed my mind.

It was a torturous day but one which I would cherish for years to come. Today taught me an important lesson. I shouldn't be scared to take the reins. I was fully capable of handling an entire kitchen. I didn't even remember what I was being afraid of all this while.

Even with everything that ensued, Linda and I conducted our routine. She smoked like a chimney and I gave her my passive smoking company. When I extended my hand towards her, she moved back.

"It's a bad habit." She clicked her tongue. "You don't need it."

"Oh, and you need it, Linds?" She shrugged before taking a long deep drag, puffing out rings of smoke. "Come on. I had a long day. A really long, tiring day."

"Then you need to take a bubble bath," Philip's voice emerged before he turned a corner to face us. My insides conducted their usual melting game like he was the sun and I was scorched to the point to turn into liquid. "Smoking isn't for you, darling."

The moment he uttered darling my head swirled up with the happy memories of ours before projecting the ones we had from the past few days. The days that were marred the sadness of him leaving me.

"And you, Linda." He turned to face the place from where smoke emanated. "Unless you have a spare lung or two, I advise you not to do it too."

"Aye, Aye captain," she chuckled, making me laugh at her retort.

Pulling me to a side, Philip ensured we were away from Linda's hearing radar. "Darling," he called me with an intonation in his voice that made me want to forget everything from the past. "Can we talk?"

"What's there to talk? You're leaving and you've already decided on it. Something else, I'd missed?"

Only today morning I decided to let go of him and accept whatever was meant for us. Too mature of me, you'd say? Nah. I didn't want to appear as the nagging girlfriend who dictated her terms on her man.

"Daisy." Philip held the side of my neck, pulling me closer.

My eyes darted to Linda but she was already gone. Closing our distance, Philip breathed over me. A warm gush of air was an assault on my fragile heart. He was leaving me in a state of despair just like last time. The only difference was, now I knew he loved me too.

"Daisy, tell me you don't want me to leave. Say that you want me to stay and I will. Say it, my love."

Kill me now. Take a knife and stab me already.

I was allowed to hold him back for myself. It was the most tempting offer. Yet, words refused to resurface. I looked into his eyes, which looked down on me, awaiting my reply. With trembling lips, I tried speaking but gagged. It felt like a pull at the back of my throat.

Pushing the pang I felt, I inhaled all the air around. The warm and humid surroundings pushed me forward.

"As much as I want to hold onto you, I can't ask you to stay, Philip."

I was wrapped into the stronghold of his chest and arms. He placed strings of kisses on top of my head, whispering his heart's song - he loves me. The urge to cry tossed up again. Even with everything I had with Philip, the thoughts of his departure drove me to a point of feeling incomplete.

Was this feeling a normal one? Or was this emptiness going to be my life?

~

Do you think Philip would leave? Or was there something deep at play here, unknown to Daisy?

What do you think would be Daisy's future, given Marcella is on a break now?

Let me know in the comments.