You try to make me crazy

you make me agitated

and then i'm suffocated

and why should i look at you

my love here is so true you

Agitated

Guillaume

I woke up with the rain tapping on the bedroom window. Marc’s arms were still around me, so I didn’t move. It was nine in the morning and I didn’t have to get to the restaurant until eleven, so I laid there, quiet, thinking how lucky we were.

It had been almost a year since we’d gotten married. It wasn’t legal to get married in France, so Marc had dragged me overseas and married me in a small church in Boston. No one knew we were there, no one knew we were getting married, no one knew we were becoming one. The alarm clock on the floor next to Marc rang and he slapped it off.

“You awake?” Marc asked me in a husky voice, his breath on my ear.

I nodded softly and turned around in his embrace “‘Morning”.

He gave me an eskimo kiss and swung himself out of bed.

“You need to get ready” he told me, heading downstairs towards the bathroom.

I knew he was right, but I didn’t get up. He came back a couple of minutes later and stared at me. His mouth turned into a slight grin and my muscles tensed. What...? Marc jumped on the bed, falling over me and getting his arms around my neck, his right hand in a fist.

“Marc!” I cried, crushed underneath him.

He kissed my cheek and rubbed my head hard. “You need to get up!”

I giggled and tried to push him off me, which didn’t work very well, I just got more suffocated by his arm. He laughed and rolled over.

“You’re evil” I muttered, getting up.

I took my shower and rolled a towel around my waist, towel-drying my hair. Marc knocked on the door.

“Out” he said.

I made a face but got out. Or tried to, as he grabbed the towel and pulled me to him.

“I thought I had to get ready” I whispered against his lips.

“Hm” he kissed me. “You do” he smiled and bit my lower lip softly. “But a few kisses won’t make you late.”

I giggled and pushed away.

We shared breakfast, that I had fixed while Marc showered, and then I left for work on my black Vespa.

The streets were still slippery, but it had stopped raining. Il était une fois, the restaurant I worked at, wasn’t far from our apartment, just a couple of streets away, so it took me about 5 minutes to get there. I parked on the back and got in straight to the kitchen.

“Salut” Jeanne-Hélène Morjuet, the Entremetier, greeted me with a wave as I walked in, making the fact that she had a missing finger stand out. Jeanne-Hélène was a dumpy, bossy woman, with matted bleach-blonde hair and light blue eyes. She had been there the longest, but was far from being the best cook we had.

She wasn’t wearing her white robe either; instead she had on some dark wash denim and a tan shirt. It didn’t look good on her, but I tried to ignore that.

“Where is Florentin-Louis?” I asked, putting my stuff away in the closet.

“You’d think he’d get here early in such an important day, right?” She asked, putting her hair up. “But no, monsieur important can’t even get here on time.”

Everyone hated Florentin-Louis. He was the Chef de Cuisine, above all of us. Il était une fois wasn’t his restaurant, but he pretended it was. Fabien Dupuis owned the restaurant, but he owned about twelve others just in France, so he was never around.

“Oui” I aswered. I put on my white robe and toque, trying to keep my hair out of my face with it - not that it ever worked. I walked around the kitchen, checking if everything was cleaned and in place. The Plongeur was new and kind of incompetent, but he had managed to do a nice job the previous night.

The back door was opened and tall skinny man walked in. He had dark hair and dark blue eyes, a long nose and pointy chin. That was Florentin-Louis.

“Bonjour” Jeanne-Hélène and I said in unison. He muttered something back but his frown didn’t ease at all.

He walked around the kitchen towards me, inspecting my uniform.

“Where is you napperon”? he asked, his eyes still scanning me. “And why do you have that ridiculous ring still on your finger?”

I looked down at my hands. The only ring there was my wedding ring. I took it off with a sigh and put it on my vest’s pocket. We weren’t allowed to wear rings in the kitchen, but Florentin-Louis would always get on my nerves about my wedding ring because he knew I was married to a man. He was the most annoying man I’d ever met.

He took a water bottle from the little fridge on the corner and sighed.

“Where are the others?” Florentin-Louis asked.

Jacques Paillard walked in, followed by Louis Meunier and his wife Oriane. There was only the Plongeur missing.

“So, people, let’s get ready” Florentin-Louis said, clapping his hands twice. “You know how important this day is for us, so let’s get things right.”

He looked straight to Jeanne-Hélène who blushed. A couple of years back there had been a man from Le Cusine, one of the most famous magazines about chefs and restaurants in France, to evaluate our restaurant. Our most famous dish back then involved chopped carrots. We were behind schedule because the vegetable’s guy had come in late with the groceries, so Jeanne-Hélène was asked to help us by chopping the carrots. We thought we would manage but suddenly she cried and there was a pool of blood on her station. She had chopped one of her fingers off. The ambulance was called and took her away in about 3 minutes, but there was no way we could clean up and fix the whole dish from scratch again. We had gone down to four stars that day.

We got our star back a year later, but most of us never forgave Jeanne-Hélène for that finger.

“Guillaume Maillard!” Florentin-Louis called, giving everybody directions.

“Guillaume Leclerc!” I corrected.

“Whatever” the other answered. “We’re preparing the Fillet Mignon avec Gruyiére Fromage. Get everything ready, we must be as fast as we can.”

Then he stepped out to his office. I turned around to face the others and indicated them what they should do.

I wasn’t used to order people around yet. I had been made Sous-chef de cuisine a couple of months back when Fabien Dupuis was in town. He had loved to watch me cook, he had said it looked like a dance, and gave me the place.

I looked through the round windows on the door that let to the dinning room as the editor in-chef woman from Le Cusine came in. She was short and had short brown hair, big brown eyes and she carried a ridiculously small notebook with her.

She sat in the middle of the room, facing the kitchen doors, and talked with the waiter, Orianeabout the meal and wine.

“She’s ready” I whispered to everyone else in the room. ”Let’s get down to business, people.”

Suddenly the room was full of noise, as each one of them started doing their job. Jeanne-Hélène was preparing simple toasts with Rockford cheese and Baby tomatoes. It wasn’t a very special dish, but it was cute, tasty and somewhat traditional. Jaques and Louis handled the main dish, while Florentin-Louis took care of the dessert. I was in charge of supervising everything and doing the presentation of each dish.

I helped Oriane with the wine and then melted the cheese for Jacques and Louis. The toasts were in the oven, but Jeanne-Hélène excused herself for a moment and they almost got burnt. I rushed around while the food was being prepared and watched with a racing heart as Oriane took the toasts out to the woman.

Oriane waited next to her as she tried the toasts. The woman’s lips curved in a tiny smile and our waiter looked up to me and smiled. Well done, Jeanne-Hélène.

I tried not to look out through the window again. Instead I made the presentation of the main dish and then helped Florentin-Louis with the desert, even though he didn’t seem very happy with my help.

Other costumers had come in while we waited and now we all were busy with a different dish, many of us making more than one at a time.

The woman from Le Cuisine took her time eating, and it was almost 3 pm before she finished. Luckily we weren’t opening for dinner that night, so we could all rest and wait anxiously for the review on the following day.

Florentin-Louis walked out to the dining room in the end, to greet the woman and present himself as the Chef de cuisine. I peeked out of the window as he did so, and was shocked when the little woman’s smile dropped. Something was wrong.

They talked for a while and I couldn’t keep from watching as she got angrier and angrier and Florentin-Louis’s neck turned bright red. I wish I could hear what they were saying.

Oriane came to my side and peeked out of the other window.

“What’s going on?” She asked me. “Everything had gone so well!”

“I don’t know” I muttered, lost in thought. I wish I knew. I sighed and raised my voice “Start cleaning up, people. Oriane, go and close the door, please.”

The Plongeur, Léo Bertrand, was in motion in that second, trying to keep up the good work I had complimented him for.

The little woman got up and walked out the door. Florentin-Louis stood there, not moving, I wasn’t even sure if he was breathing. He came back a couple of minutes later, and sent everyone but Léo home with a rude voice.

I put my wedding ring back on my finger and changed fast, I didn’t want him to catch me alone when he was in such a bad mood.

“There goes that fifth star again...” Jacques muttered as we stepped outside. “I just wish I knew what she didn’t like...”

I put my helmet on and started my Vespa.

N/A I can't take full credit for this story. It has been written with the help of my friend Marta Brissos. It's the story we're writing while we wait for our theory driver's class.
Anyways, Shrinking Universe & Agitated © MUSE