The Breakfast of Champions (Emeli)

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

Gwen usually hated cafes. They were so impersonal with a low quality menu and lazy wait staff who presented her with food that probably came from a pre-packaged microwaveable dish that had had all taste zapped out of by the radioactive waves. But Gwen liked Les Deux Magots. It was comfortable and friendly waiters gave her a smile as well as a fresh dish. Besides, her pregnancy cravings weren’t nearly as picky as her culinary degree was. It was breakfast time and she had another couple of hours until she had to be at work, so a pop into the café was a much needed detour. With everything that had happened in the past two months alone—Tristan’s funeral home getting robbed, her false pregnancy, her real pregnancy, and Torben’s father falling ill—she felt she deserved to have someone cook for her for a change and not have to worry about preparing breakfast.

As the bell above the door chimed, alerting her presence to the small café, her stomach growled violently and she wondered if the other patrons had heard that, too. Perhaps she was hungrier than she thought. She settled herself into what she had remembered being a comfortable booth, but had since felt hard on her aching back. She wasn’t far along and already, her body was swelling and pulling in places she didn’t even think were involved. She picked up her menu and slipped off her shoes, her feet sighing into the cold wooden floors. Her stomach moaned again in demand for nourishment. She was eating for two, but it felt like five.

“No junk food,” Torben had reminded her earlier that week. “Not for now. Once we reach second trimester, eat what you want, but before we’re set and safe, be careful.” Gwen rolled her eyes. He wasn’t the one carrying an alien baby that sapped her energy. He wasn’t the one with the heightened sense of smell, heartburn, and night sweats. He wasn’t the one who had the cravings that never ceased and followed no logical progression of recipe (she had an insatiable craving for grass just yesterday). But she knew deep down that he was right. They had lost too many babies before, they had tried too many times for Gwen not to be careful. So she put the menu down and waited for assistance.

[leahsy]

Emeli Chanceller

The day had been a slow day from the start. Emeli had stayed up late writing and so today she had trouble keeping her eyes open. Then, at the cafe, there were only a few customers, and they mostly didn't order anything more than a coffee. So, despite her constant self-scolding, she was quickly getting bored. 

Emeli was standing by the kitchen window alone, watching the door for any customers. She felt once more for her notepad and pencil. Yep, there they were. Then, the bell above the door chimed and in walked a woman, apparently uncomfortable by the motion of her gait. She sat herself in a booth and Emeli briskly walked over to her. 

"Hello, welcome to Les Deux Magots. My name is Emeli and I'll be your server today. Can I get you anything to drink?" She whipped out her pencil and pad.  

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

A waitress quickly approached Gwen’s table, pad and pen in hand, her blonde hair bouncing around her young face as if to highlight her young age. "Hello, welcome to Les Deux Magots. My name is Emeli and I'll be your server today. Can I get you anything to drink?"

“Hi, Emeli!” Gwen said cheerfully. “How are you today?” she scanned the menu again, looking for drinks. “What do you have in the realm of beverages?” Here yes finally found the drink section and she deliberated for a long while, silently looking at little black words. Maybe Torben was right—maybe she did need glasses. She tapped her toe against the metal support beneath the table as she looked.

“How about tea? No. Milk. No… How about cranberry juice? Oh, f*ck it.” She laughed, folding her menu and tucking it in the crevice between the salt shaker and the wall. “How about all three? Choices are hard for me.”

[leahsy]

Emeli Chanceller

Emeli smiled at her greeting. "I'm good, thank you." Up close, she could see that the woman had taken off her shoes and that her belly was slightly swollen. Ah. "What do you have in the realm of beverages?" "Well, for starters," she began. "We have soft drinks, as well as milk, juices, tea, and coffee." Emeli watched as the woman's eyes ran down the menu, squinting slightly. “How about tea? No. Milk. No… How about cranberry juice?" Emeli's pen flew over the paper, writing down, then crossing out the desired beverages as fast as the words could come out of her mouth. "Oh f*ck it. How about all three? Choices are hard for me." Emeli nodded. "How do you take your tea?" 

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: Jesus, this is short. But here ya are! BiC:

Gwendoline Fontaine

The waitress—Emeli—nodded, her pen flying across the paper, making loops and straight streams like a jet plane. Finally, just when Gwen thought she couldn’t go any faster, she stopped, resting her pen precariously between two of her fingers. "How do you take your tea?"

Gwen sighed. More options. One day, she would invent a restaurant that read the customers mind and presented then with food exactly as they imagined it. “Oh, just bring out all of the fixings and I’ll whip something up. And as for breakfast,” she looked at the menu once more, which only had different combinations of eggs and pastries. But Gwen knew from working in one of Paris’s finest kitchens that even food items not listed on the menu could be assembled in the back. “I’ll take spaghetti. Lots of spaghetti.”

[leahsy]

OoC: Sorry it took me so long to answer! BiC:

Emeli Chanceller

"Oh just bring out all the fixings and I'll whip something up." Emeli nodded absently running though the list of ingredients in her head. She jumped when the woman spoke again. "And as for breakfast, I'll take spaghetti. Lots of spaghetti." Emeli nodded once more, more to the customer than to herself this time. "Sure thing, I'll get that right out to you."

When she had entered the kitchen doors, Emeli groaned loudly and leaned against the door. But, she couldn't judge. She'd never had to eat for two before. And so, she got started, putting the water in the kettle and waiting for it to boil. In the meantime, she decided to start on the spaghetti.
Hidden deep within a cabinet, she found about a third of a box. Emeli bit her lip. "Not enough," she muttered. There was also a box of butterfly pasta, so she decided to add that as well, figuring it was the same sort of thing. There were plenty of fresh tomatoes, so she easily made the marinara in no time. 

Before long, the tea water was boiling, so she set it to medium and decided to put the medley of noodles on the stove. 

The tea fixings were stored in one cabinet; teabags, sugar, honey, etc. She could easily find them since tea was a sought-after beverage. Taking some of everything, she added it to a tray, as well as a glass of milk and one of cranberryjuice, the tea kettle, and a white porcelain tea cup.
 
Walking carefully so as to not trip and spill her precious load, she eventually made it to the customer's booth. Then, she gently set it down, heaving a sigh of relief. "There's your beverages. I'll have the spaghetti out to you in a moment." 

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

"Sure thing, I'll get that right out to you." And with that, Emeli vanished just as quickly as she had appeared. Waitstaff, good waitstaff anyway, were like charismatic water. They flowed in and out of place soundlessly unless called upon to speak. And when they did speak, it was all in invested smiles and pleasantries. It was something Gwen had learned in her own years as a waitress. That was after culinary school. It had been an insult then. She had a fancy degree from the best school in Paris and arguably the world and she was cleaning tables and filling drinks. She often forgot she had been there once, darting between tables and counting tips like gold. And maybe Emeli was there now, carrying with her hopes for a fancier job that didn’t require her to come in at odd hours and stand all day. Gwen would be sure to leave her a large tip. But in the meantime, while she waited for her drinks, she scribbled on a napkin absently, drawing sketches she would likely throw out before Torben could see them and improve upon them.

Hurried, careful footsteps reached Gwendoline’s ears and she looked up to see Emeli, a human scale, balancing the drinks as so they didn’t spill a drop. "There's your beverages. I'll have the spaghetti out to you in a moment."

“Thank you, dear,” Gwen said. “You look tired. Have a seat while the water boils.” She motioned to the booth across from her for Emeli to sit, resting her feet for just a moment. She looked around at the empty tables. “That is, unless you have another customer that needs you.”


OoC: Sorry for the late response. Work got crazy. BiC:

[leahsy]

Emeli Chanceller

Emeli smiled at the customer, deciding just this once, she could take a small break. After all, there were no customers at the door and it was almost the end of her shift anyway. 
So, she slid into the seat, holding in a contented sigh. It would take about ten minutes for the pasta to cook fully, so Emeli was ok, so long as she didn't stay too long. And besides, the customer was always right.
A quick glance up revealed to her some scribbled-upon napkins. "Are you an artist?" They weren't masterpieces; rather, they resembled the margins of her notebook when writer's block struck. However, there was a trace of skill in the drawings. Emeli brushed her hair back from her face so as to inspect them closer. 


 

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

To Gwen’s delight, the waitress slid into the overstuffed booth, the cushion squeaking and sighing as she did so. "Are you an artist?” Emeli asked and Gwen let out a raucous, almost wicked cackle.

“Me?” She asked between laughs and gasps for air. “An artist? No no no. That’s my husband’s jurisdiction. He’s an artist by trade. I’m just a chef, which I suppose is an art in its own right. But no, these are nothing compared to what he does.” She pulled out her phone and pulled up pictures of Torben’s art. “This is what he does. Much better than any of my little scribbles. My son is better than me, too. They draw together and it’s just the cutest.”

She put her phone down and folded her hands on the table. “But enough about me. What about you? Do you draw?”

[leahsy]

Emeli Chanceller 
 
Emeli's eyes widened when the customer pulled up some artwork on her phone. It was beautiful, but not in the way that an early morning dawn was beautiful. The subjects of the paintings were all in all unusual, but there was something about them that appealed to Emeli's inner eye that she couldn't place. "But enough about me. What about you? Do you draw?" Emeli shook her head. "No. I'm more into writing. Perhaps when I'm a famous author I can afford to buy some of your husbands work," she joked. 

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine

Emeli shook her head, her eyes wide. "No. I'm more into writing. Perhaps when I'm a famous author I can afford to buy some of your husbands work," she said sweetly.

Gwen laughed. “Perhaps when you’re a famous author he can buy some of your work. He’s a surprisingly voracious reader. I suppose that’s what he does during our son’s naptime because painting absorbs him too much. But no, you don’t have to wait until then to have some of his artwork. There’s so much at home that he just sort of tucks away into drawers and forgets about that I’m sure he’d let you just have. You could sell it for lots of moneys or keep it or whatever.”

It didn’t happen often, but Gwen realized she was rambling on. Her rambles were usually about her family, about her boyfriend, about her son, about Tristan and Gabriel. Usually people just tuned her out.

“Your accent’s weird,” she said abruptly. “I don’t mean that to offend, but your French… it’s… I don’t know. It sounds like my boyfriend. He’s Austrian so that harsh Germanic language is what does it. But you aren’t from Austria, I’d guess… where are you from, love?”

[leahsy]

Emeli Chanceller

"But no, you don’t have to wait until then to have some of his artwork. There’s so much at home that he just sort of tucks away into drawers and forgets about that I’m sure he’d let you just have. You could sell it for lots of moneys or keep it or whatever.” Emeli's eyes widened. "Wow, thank you!" She had always wanted to be able to buy art to hang up, but the waitress salary just didn't cut it. 
Soon the woman was talking on about her family, and Emeli listened intently. Suddenly the woman burst out, “Your accent’s weird. I don’t mean that to offend, but your French… it’s… I don’t know. It sounds like my boyfriend. He’s Austrian so that harsh Germanic language is what does it. But you aren’t from Austria, I’d guess… where are you from, love?” Emeli grinned. "I'm from Michigan, in the United States. Were you born in France?" 

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

Gwendoline Fontaine
"I'm from Michigan, in the United States,” Emeli explained, and suddenly there was a certain clarity in her voice. The harsh nasality of her words unfolded into more tangible sentences that were no longer hidden by an accent. It was wiping grime off a window. “ Were you born in France?"

“Oui,” Gwen said. “Here in Paris. Then I moved to Austria to cook which is where I met Torben. But I couldn’t stay away for long. I love it here. It’s so…” Gwen searched for words. “Alive. I feel much more creative here. I don’t know about you or what it’s like in Michigan but I think this is the best place in the world.” Gwen took a long sip from each of her drinks. “What is Michigan like? What’s America like?”

[leahsy]

Emeli Chanceller
“What is Michigan like? What’s America like?” Emeli chewed on her lip absently, trying to think of the best way to describe it. "Michigan is very cold," she said, recalling many a snowed in school holiday. "And sandy. It's like a big beach. America though..." She tilted her head slightly. "It's like a mish-mosh of different places put together. California's really sunny and warm, then you've got crowded and cement-paved New York, and in the midwest it's like the eye of the hurricane; a lot of calm, rural towns, and lots of fields." 

[Lets_Eat_Paste]

OoC: So sorry it's taken me a decade to get this to you-- and that it's so short! I just moved to Hollywood and classes just started so I had to put this on the back burner. Eep! BiC:

Gwendoline Fontaine

Gwendoline listened intently as the woman in front of her described America in flourishing prose much better put together than her patchwork quilt of a speech pattern that jumped all over and broke in the air as another thought popped into her mind. “Wow…” she said after a minute of silence. “You really are a writer! It’s a pity you have to be a waitress right now…” Gwendoline looked down at the table, empty just like her stomach and she remembered she had ordered food. “But since you are at the moment, I’m next to positive that spaghetti is just past al dente by now. But, when you get back, there will be a spot at my table for you.”