Clean Cut

Again the light subsided, and the array of whimsical creatures stood before them all. Every cooked item on the table had animated except the merengue dollops. The rotund Weenee Wee, the demure Pastelirma, the dashing Capitaco, all of them stood observing the would be chefs around the table.

Before Marjorie floated the unchanging carved grin of the Champhain she summoned. It was impossible to tell what it thought. The facade it put forward suggested it was happy, and the noises it made sounded like laughter, but was it real? It was… unnerving.

The Champhain floated up by her shoulder and stayed stationed there. Chef smiled at her. Others all had their new companions come around to them in their various ways. Capitaco stood at attention for Gamot, Shogyozun stood to be at Pan’s side, the Weenee Wee horde bounced and squealed in a delightfully playful way. “Well done, looks like the Gourmon have recognized you.”

There was a general cheer as everyone got into a celebratory mood. They’d done it! Everyone had done it! Chef took the time to congratulate everyone on a job well done in turn. As they all celebrated, one of the farmers came in with a bottle of champagne and popped the cork. It was a wild, crazy several hours.

As the sun was setting, Chef got everyone’s attention. “Before the final event, I have some gifts for all of you.” She stepped around behind the unoccupied cooking station and hefted up some parcels. She handed out six of them in all, one to each of the cohort.

They all opened their gifts. Inside, there were custom uniforms for everyone! “No matter where you go, I want you all to know that you have a place here. If you choose to carry these uniforms with you into the future, know that you have made all of us here so proud.”

There was a long silence as they all looked at each other. Chef gave a warm smile. “Even if you don’t, know that you can always call this place home. No matter how far you roam, or how long you are away, know there is a soft bed and warm meal waiting for you.”

Gamot was the first to move as he often was. He swiftly undid the buttons of his old uniform and pulled himself free of it. He slipped his arms into the sleeves of the new jacket one at a time. It fit him perfectly. The new jacket was primarily white, but the cuffs, collar, interior, and netting along the shoulders was his signature blue. It had a tailcoat trim to it. The shoulders had a more angular trim than the others’ new uniforms, and the arrangement of the buttons gave him the appearance of a military man in formal attire. He looked the part of a leader, even with a few buttons misaligned. He stood in a a heroic pose with his hands on his hips.

Chef laughed and walked over to him. She helped fix his buttons. “You wear it well, Gamot. May it protect you on your journeys to come.”

Everyone else followed suit. Rika and Papi were the next to get changed. Their uniforms had the same general design scheme with their signature orange instead of blue, but the ones they wore lacked cuffs and had a sort of pleating around the waist, forming a peplum. Rika’s uniform has an orange stripe down the left arm and across the right breast, and Papi’s had the stripes on her right arm and left breast.

The next to suit up was Pan. Her uniform had the expected red color along the back and interior, but her sleeves were tighter and had that same netted mesh from the shoulders, but in black. Instead of buttons, it had lacquered clasps and red string loops, and the cut of the front was more Diagonal and less vertical.

Saffy gave a twirl in her new uniform. Her yellow was represented as embroidered swirls and floret patterns along the back and arms, with a solid yellow seam bordering down her arms and above her chest. Below the seam, it was pristine white. The sleeves were shorter, but they had a slight frill and droop to them. That same frill trailed around her waist in three layers.

Marjorie was impressed with everyone’s new attire, it suited them all so well. She almost forgot about her own. She quickly changed. Hers wasn’t all too different from her old uniform in cut, but the netted mesh on her shoulders was more like a delicate lace. The lace of her uniform stretched around to the front as well, and the lace clasped over her left breast. A white collar topped the green lace. The sleeves puffed out by her wrists, and the interior green had elaborate, shimmering swirls and knots.

Chef looked around at the cohort. “You all wear those coats well. When I say may they protect you, I mean it. They are specially woven with protective fabric.” She goes once again to the unattended station. “I also have… some tools for you.” She reaches underneath again and pulls some bags free. “Knives, boards, spoons, mess kits, pots, pans, flinting, and cups. You can cook so long as you have fire, but having all of your tools at the ready will allow you to prepare proper meals anywhere you go.” 

Everyone stepped over to receive their bags. Chef took a deep breath. “Everything you’ve learned… is just the beginning. What you do from now on is up to you. Whether you become an apprentice to a starring chef, develop a kitchen of your own, travel the world, or take your lessons home with you… from everything I’ve seen, I believe you are ready for the world to come.”

They celebrated a while longer, and then everyone slowly filed away to prepare for the days ahead. They would all be leaving.

Marjorie returned to her dorm. She worked on getting everything put together for travel. As much as she wanted to stay, Chef insisted that everyone leave. Birds and nests, talents better suited elsewhere. She looked through her personal effects. She couldn’t find her notebook.

Marjorie went back to the cooking area to see if she’d left it at her station.

It was night. The stars garnished the sky, and the moon was its centerpiece. When she reached the cooking area. It was deserted save for one person.

Garrick stood alone, leaning on his station. He had a wild, disheveled black mop of hair and a caramel complexion. He leaned there, silently, eating the last bowl of pasta. He looked down at the bowl, but it felt like there was no life behind his eyes, just black pools with no reflection. He was already out of uniform and had a bag packed. He leaned there in a grey hoodie that was too big for him.

He noticed Marjorie and turned to her. The scar on his forehead was more obvious at this angle it came down from his left and splintered towards his nose. He looked her over. “I’m tired… I’m ready to go home. Go to bed. Work out.”

Marjorie smiled a bit. He said that every day. At first it was annoying, but it became endearing after all these years. She wanted to ask him why… why he would quit like this… but Chef was right. It wasn’t Marjorie’s place.

She wished him good night and turned to leave.

“I never wanted to be here, you know.”

Marjorie stopped.

“I’m not like the rest of you. I don’t belong here. Never did.”

Marjorie felt a pain in her chest. As much as he said that every day, as much as she took part in the jesting that the others gave him, it still hurt her that he thought that way. She hadn’t said anything to suggest it. She hadn’t said anything to object to the ribbings. She rarely spoke. Marjorie preferred to listen. But this… it always hurt to hear.

Garrick set the pasta down. “See you around.” He stood and stepped away.

Marjorie lunged to pull him into a hug. She didn’t know what to say, what could she say? What could be said to undo all of this? She just squeezed him tightly.

He didn’t move. He didn’t speak.

There were no words for this.

After a quiet minute… she let him go.