The Layers of His Mask

9. This Kitchen is Your Solace

Tim and I finish up breakfast, after I practically force feed him for thirty minutes when he refused to eat. I then climb into the bed next to him, clasping my hands together over my abdomen.

“You know this bed wasn't made for two people?” he laughs, scooting over in order to make room for me.

I playfully glare at him then immediately burst into laughter afterwards. “There is plenty of room, see? You were just taking up all the space.”

“Yeah, yeah.”

“Mom and dad are going to be here soon. I’m not ready to face their wrath just yet...well, let me rephrase that, mom’s wrath.”

“Oh, please. If anything you’ll be off the hook, it’s me who has to worry about what will come out of mom's mouth. They love you more than me. They've always loved you more than me...” his voice trails off and I look over to see his blank expression, his eyes planted on the ceiling while I wait patiently for him to finish. “The day you were born you became mom’s favorite and I became just another picture on the wall because she had been so desperately wanting a baby girl. And she got one. Dad would try and keep me occupied by playing with me, or buying me things, thinking that I wouldn't notice the constant absence of my mother, but I noticed. Every child notices when a parent is no longer available to them.”

Tim had never mentioned any of this to me until now. It's heartbreaking to know that he thinks I am our parents’ favorite child. I had only seen a glimpse of what he mentioned the day that Tim got into an argument with our mom. I had no idea that had been the reason for his behavior that day.

It gets quiet for a few minutes, neither of us wanting to break it. If I would have known that this was one of the reasons behind his silence and disappearance over the years I would have tried to fix it. Somehow...someway...

A light tap on his room door causes us both to jump being as we had gotten so used to the silence between us both. Our mom and dad enter, the tension in the room thickens. My brother's posture stiffens next to me.

Our mother smiles to me and then Tim, I have to roll my eyes. It's absolutely preposterous, I'm not the one in the hospital bed, I mean technically I am. However I now see what my brother meant.

If there were ever a moment in time when I wanted to completely disown myself from this family, it would have to be this one. I feel like the big, obnoxious elephant in the room and I know when the conversation actually happens, said elephant reference will become prominent.

We all talk close to two hours about all the events leading up to Tim sitting in this very spot. Choice words are said and interruptions are made as he explains everything, even down to his jealousy of me and lack of care from my mother for him.

Our mother even tries to defend me when I tucked my knees up to my chest and pretty much zoned out towards the end of their argument. I want to die, or bury myself under a huge rock because my mother truly does not get it. She doesn't get the effect her behavior has had on Timothy's upbringing. It takes me and our father explaining everything to her again before she finally gets it, and while my dad is explaining the second time around, I zone out again and Tim is on the brink of anger plus tears.

"You truly don't get it, do you?" He says, his statement more in the form of a question. "You don't see that over the years I have yearned for your attention, but all you saw was her. It was always about Rebecca, never about Tim, because Tim doesn't exist in your world, mom." He shrugs, shortly after, tears accumulated on his cheeks. "That's why I figured no one would miss me if I was gone, you would have Rebecca after all."

There are shouts of, "Why would you even say such a thing?", "you can't possibly mean that." and by that point I am in tears myself, head lowered as I sob into my blue jeans. I have truly convinced myself that I am the reason behind all his pain and suffering over the years because if I think about it...I am.

I step out of the room after all the chaos has died down and we all came to an understanding about one another. I call Violet to come and pick me up, I can't bear to be stuck in this room with the lot of them, it is just too much.

It’s a quiet ride home. Violet doesn't bother asking what happened, she knows by now that I'll tell her when I'm ready.

I take a shower, curl up in bed and take a very long nap. Hannah comes over too and they stay over for a while, hugging me while trying to get me to eat something. My appetite lost itself somewhere in that hospital. When is it going to decide to visit again? I couldn't tell you.

***

The next day I wake up early, even though I have taken the day off from work and the reason for my doing so is no longer valid, now. I am not sure what to do. I don’t know if I want to go to the hospital to see Tim, I don’t even know if he wants me there at all. I now know he blames me for his past, his childhood, and I also know I’m responsible for his condition right now. If I had stayed with him, he wouldn't be in the hospital this instant. I didn't speak to him about his current problems, either. Not even in the hospital when he woke up. I was waiting for the right time, or I was scared to ruin his mood - I don’t know. But what I do know, is I've never been a good sibling to him. Never.

My guilt and hurt weigh down on me so much. I can feel my heart get compressed and I feel pain. I feel so bad, I can’t even stand myself.

I hate myself.

It’s still the early hours, I know Tim won’t be awake for a few more hours. I don’t know about him, but I really, really want to see my brother. Not because I blame myself for his situation. Not because I feel guilty. Not because I pity him. I want to see him because despite his side of the story, I have always loved my brother. I care for him, even if he doesn't think so. With that thought in mind, I make haste in getting ready to go to the hospital. The weight on my heart is still there, and I’m pretty sure my courage to go there is because of the fact that I know he wouldn't be awake. I don’t know if I can face him.

I really hope you’re asleep when I come over, Tim.

***

I reach there faster than I anticipated. I race to his room and halt before the door. I listen for any sounds inside to indicate whether he is awake or not. I peek inside, opening the door to a slight crack. When I see he’s sound asleep, I step in, making the barest of noises.

I watch his sleeping form and my walking freezes. I curse myself and my guilt multiplies by so much.

I’m so sorry, Tim.

He stirs ever so slightly in his sleep and I regain my senses. I quickly make my way to the table at the foot of his bed and place the flowers I bought him on the way here. I slide under the flowers the small hand-written note containing my get-well-soon wishes - with my apologies, and love. I walk over beside him and swipe my hand over his head and through his hair. I sigh and place a kiss on his forehead.

“I love you, Tim. I’m not the best sister, but you've been the best big brother. You are. Get well soon,” I whisper.

With that, I retract my hand quickly and hurry out of the hospital. Tears spill down my face as I drive back home. I lock my door, fully intent on wallowing all alone. I really need this time - alone.

I skip breakfast. I skip lunch. All I do is cry and sleep.

I wake up and see it’s around four in the day. I remember Tim gets discharged today and think of a way to build my strength to face him. Just then, my phone rings and I see it’s my father.

“Dad?”

“Listen, sweetheart, me and your mother have decided to take Tim home, with us.” He pauses before continuing, “After everything that happened yesterday, I think - we think it’s best if he stays over a couple o’ days. Is it okay with you?”

“Is he okay with it?”

“Yes…he’s agreed, now.”

“Then it’s fine by me, dad. Take care of him.”

“I will, sweetheart. Take care yourself, too. Love you, bye.”

“Bye.”

I hit the the end call button. My voice was hollow the entire time. I’m happy Tim’s staying with them, you know, to resolve issues and stuff. But more than that, I’m relieved. I guessed something, and this call just proved it.

He doesn't want to see you. He doesn't want anything to do with you. Your brother hates you.

I grab a few bottles of beer, wine, anything at all that I can find in my fridge. The night passes with me trying to drink my tears away. Somewhere along the way, I doze off.

***

I arrive at Romano’s twenty minutes early the next day. I don’t know how I managed to be early after last night. I just want something to occupy my mind and keep me off the happenings of the weekend.

“Morning, or afternoon everyone," I mumble.

“Afternoon, Rebecca,” they all reply in unison.

I instinctively walk over to Aubrey, flashing her a weak smile when she spots me. “Hey, you. Everything alright?” she asks.

No, nothing is alright but I'm going to pretend like it is, in hopes of you letting it go.

“I’m good.”

“You sure? You don’t look good.” she may be referring to the dark circles resting under my eyes.

“I’m sure,” I reassure her, pushing her shoulder with mine. The truth is I'm not okay, and I don't know how I’m going to survive today, along with the combination of Alex.

We get started on cutting all the vegetables needed for today’s menu, utilizing the ‘Brooks Way’ as Alex so blatantly put it that day. An hour later Alex walks in and the chatter that once filled the kitchen slowly diminishes.

“Afternoon everyone,” he greets, walking over to wash his hands at the employee sink.

“Afternoon chef,” we all respond.

“Okay, so as you all know, it is Tuesday. Tuesday usually means a slow day. So, we’re going to take it pretty easy today.”

In my mood, it doesn't matter if it’s slow or not. I just want myself occupied with something. I keep my head lowered and focus on the task at hand.

Alex’s presence is a dark, ever looming one. When I feel his body a little too close for comfort I find myself not breathing once again.

What is he checking for precise cuts? Checking to see if every vegetable is what he described for today’s menu? I don’t know, but he needs to back the hell up. I’m not in the mood for his games today.

Whoa! Where’s this outrage coming from? He was the one who was there for you the other day, remember?

“Rebecca, did you look to see if we had Zucchini in the walk in cooler?”

“I did, but I could not locate any,” I answer, breaking from my thoughts, continually chopping, purposefully avoiding eye contact. If I look into them, I will probably turn to stone.

“And you know that Zucchini is a vital part to the Ratatouille dish?”

“Yes," my tone comes out more clipped than I intended.

“Then why is it that there is no Zucchini on your cutting board?”

“I just told you that there was none,” I angrily repeat, swiveling around to face him head on.

“Aubrey, did you mention to Rebecca where the extra vegetables are kept?” Why is his tone so calm, yet threatening?

“I failed to inform her, chef, I’m sorry.”

“Can you show her where they are kept?” he asks, pronouncing each word individually.

“Yes, chef.” she quickly places her knife down and tells me to follow her to a different walk in cooler just outside the kitchen.

“What the hell is his problem, like seriously?” I grab a crate of zucchini - yanking it is more like it - and Aubrey grabs one right after me.

She turns to face me, the crate now in hand. “Rebecca,” she says, eyes full of sympathy. “I really don’t know what has gotten into him. He’s never been like this towards anyone. Not even me.” I can hear the truth behind her words, and I know that she really has no clue as to why this man chooses to pick on me.

So, his civility towards me is only outside this kitchen? What’s his problem with me?

Well, you’re not in your best mood, either, today.

“Whatever,” I mutter, making my way back to the kitchen. Alex is now over by the stove tasting some sort of sauce. I walk over to the cooler and deposit the Zucchini in the labeled bin. I keep a few out for myself and walk to the sink to clean them off.

I return to my station and finish chopping the last few zucchini. When I’m finished I walk over to Alex and tell him that I am done. He walks with me back to my station and checks all the cuts of the vegetables. “Good,” Is all he says before he walks away again. I want to trip him and hope he lands face first. Maybe then that mouth of his will cease their angry bullets.

Your anger is directed at the wrong person, Rebecca.

“Where did you say you went to school again?” Aubrey asks.

“The Art Institute downtown,” I answer, watching her flip vegetables in a saute pan.

“Oh really? I went there too. I graduated about two years ago. I came here for my internship and have been here ever since.”

“I knew I recognized your chef coat from somewhere. It’s pretty sad that I went there, and I didn't even realize you were wearing one,” I laugh, or I try to.

“The tuition has gone up as well. If I wanted to pay that much, I would have enrolled at Le Cordon Bleu,” she jokes.

“Hey! My dad went to Le Cordon Bleu in Paris,” I inform her.

“Oh yeah, you are a Daniels aren't you?” she teases, sticking her tongue out at me.

“Yep,” I reply with the most genuine smile I will produce today.

Alex comes over after an hour or so and interrupts our chat. “Rebecca, would you like to learn something new today?”

“Uh, sure.”

“Follow me.” He leads me over to a different stove on the other side of the kitchen where a younger looking guy named Nick is working. I recognize him as the same guy he was laughing and having a good time with. “Nick, Rebecca is going to work with you for the rest of the day. I want her on the front line so I can see what she needs to improve on.”

“Yes, chef.”

The light lunch rush starts and Nick has me on the grill making chicken and steak. Alex begins running around the kitchen, yelling to other members of the kitchen, trying to find out how much time is left on certain dishes.

I've been focused the entire day, until now. The work starts getting mechanical, so much so that my hands remember what to do by themselves, making room in my mind for those thoughts to come back. When he gets back to me, I’m already so overwhelmed that I leave a couple of pieces of chicken on the grill too long and end up burning them.

Shit. s**t. s**t! Alex is going to kill me!

“Rebecca! Time on the Peruvian grilled chicken?!”

“Ten minutes, chef!” I drop more chicken onto the grill and throw the burnt pieces away.

“What do you mean ten minutes?! That chicken should have been done two minutes ago.”

“It is, well...was. I burnt a few of the pieces, chef.”

He closes his eyes, clamping two fingers on the bridge of his nose as he exhales loudly. He then begins to pace back and forth and I can tell he is trying to keep his temper at bay. Somewhere between his pacing and my flipping chicken, he explodes.

“How hard is it, Rebecca, to put the chicken on the grill, cook it for seven minutes on each side and take it off?” he crosses his arms over his chest, awaiting my answer. When I don’t respond he presses further. “I don’t hear anything?” he says, placing a hand to his ear.

“I-I, I’m sorry, chef.” I lower my head and remove the now done chicken from the grill and place it on the plate in front of me.

“I don’t need an apology Rebecca!” he’s practically spitting my name now. “I need to know why the chicken was burnt, and why you felt the need to waste money.”

“I said I was sorry, okay!” Everyone stops what they are doing and turns their eyes to us. It's literally like the record player in my head scratched on its own accord. Silent gasps escape our personal audience. “I don’t know what the hell you want from me, Alex! First you are somewhat decent to me and the next you’re acting like a complete asshole!”

He’s watching me now with a glare so intense it scares me. But I’m not backing down from this fight. I have spent too much of my life keeping my mouth shut for everyone. “Rebecca, I would choose my next words very carefully,” he says in a threatening tone.

“How about this? Cook your own damn chicken. I’m done.” I drop the tongs I was utilizing and storm out of the kitchen, heading outside. I am so done! I don’t even know why I bothered to come here today, why was I even training? I could care less about something as trivial as cooking or my life for that matter. I just don’t care anymore!

Before I even reach the door tears are already springing to my eyes, and I can’t stop them from falling. I sit down on the curb outside and bury my face in my folded arms.

My lungs feel constricted and I can’t breath, each convulsion of my body causing my sobs to be more of a hyperventilation as I try to regulate the pace of my breathing. I hear footsteps behind me and I frantically wipe away at the tears on my face.

Not him. Anyone but him.

I stare at the ground hard, like when I was little and my parents would yell at me for teasing Timothy or forgetting to feed the dog. I would always stare at the ground, eyes open wide, unblinking for as long as the lecture lasted. It was the only thing that I could count on to stop the tears. I do that now, and pray that it works.

“Rebecca?” Alex’s voice calls, hesitantly.

Dammit! Can’t I ever catch a break?

I purse my lips together and keep my eyes trained on the ground.

“Are you okay?” Alex hovers over me.

“Leave me alone, Alex.” I say, my voice hoarse with tears. My throat feels tight and I can’t get the words to come out correctly.

“No. I’m not going to leave until you tell me you're okay.” He says, back to his usual commanding self.

“Okay, fine. I’m okay. I am totally okay. In fact, I have never been better,” I state sarcastically. I force a smile onto my face and look up at him.

“How foolish do you think I am?” he raises an eyebrow.

“God, Alex! Just leave me alone!” I stand up and turn away from him.

“Rebecca,” his voice is frustrated, as if he was holding on to his patience. Annoyed.

I turn back, my control completely lost - I snap.

“f**k it, Alex! You've been treating me like s**t ever since I walked through that damn door. I don’t know what I did to you, I truly don’t know! Okay, so I messed up a few times, but who doesn't? I don’t know if it’s just me, but I haven’t seen you chew anyone else out!” My voice rises and rises, anger coursing through me.

What I said wasn't false, but what happened in the kitchen isn't the main reason for my current rage, it was just the trigger. I know it’s wrong to direct my anger at him, but it feels so good to finally let it all out. Some kind of vent.

Alex’s mouth drops open in shock. I doubt anyone has ever spoken to him like that before. Good. He deserves some of his own medicine. He opens his mouth and I brace myself to hear the two words that no employee ever wants to hear - you’re fired.

But Alex surprises me once again when he says, “I’m sorry.” He sits down on the curb in an act of defeat, like all of my words have made him so weak and tired that he can no longer stand on his own two feet.

I stare at him in surpise, unsure of how to respond to that.

He’s sorry? I didn't know sorry was even in his vocabulary.

“I’m sorry, Rebecca," he repeats again, running his fingers through his hair. “I didn't know I was…being such an ass. I honestly don’t know what has gotten into me in the last few days. I've just been so stressed and I’m sorry if you feel like I have been taking it out on you.”

I nod curtly and sit back down on the curb next to him. He stares off in the distance, his shoulders hunched. I know something is on his mind, and that he's too damn stubborn to budge.

I sigh, “It’s not your fault, Alex. It’s mine, actually. I shouldn't have taken it out on you. I’m sorry.”

He looks at me, his eyes confused, then widen in realization, “Is it about your brother?”

I look away into the distance, trying to keep my tears at bay.

“If you still feel guilty, I assure you, you don’t have to. It’s not your fault.”

“Of course, it is my damn fault!” I raise my voice several octaves and look at him, hot tears finally falling down.

His face is completely soft and his eyes completely genuine - like that night. He utters softly, “It’s not your fault he tried to end his life, Rebecca.”

I turn away again, not bothering to wipe my tears as they just kept falling, “It’s not just that.”

“Then what is it?” His voice so concerned and sincere - so gentle.

I bite my lip and shake my head. He closes his hand over mine and begins to rub small circles with the pad of his thumb on the skin of my hand. For the first time, I don't want to pull away. I just stare down at our joined hands, thinking if I could tell him. Remembering how he was there for me that night and how he is here now. Wishing that it could always be like this between us, but knowing full well that it never will - the later part of that night was proof enough. But for some reason, this - right now - feels...normal.

I look into his eyes which were staring straight at me and sigh, “You don’t have to do this. You don’t have to act and comfort me just because you feel you have to and then become so cold and indifferent again. It’s hard enough for me as it is.”

His eyes widen in shock. And then, soften back in genuine apology, “I’m sorry for the way I acted that night and actually, every time. I promise you, it won’t be like that now. Not anymore.” He smiles a little, “I want to comfort you. You can tell me, anything. Don’t be scared and it’ll also help reduce the burden.”

I see the sincerity in his eyes and know that he means every word. I smile at him and realize he was there for me that day, no matter what the later events were, he was there for me and helped me through my worst phase. I can tell him. I wanted to tell it, put it all out of me and he was presenting me an opportunity.

So I tell him. Everything. From the moment Tim revealed those haunting words to me, till the minutes in the kitchen earlier. Once I started telling, I couldn't stop. I realized I wanted to vent it all out. My frustration, feelings, everything. It was too much to keep it within myself. He listened patiently to every word I said through my tears and sobs, never once attempting to interrupt me.

“I don’t know what to do anymore! I feel so bad and I don’t want to do anything but lock myself in my apartment forever! I don’t know why I’m even here!” I finally look back at him.

His eyes hold mine as he says the words that save me. The words that ease my pain and help my clarity back.

“I don’t know what to say about the situation with your brother and it’s not mine to say. But what I do know, is why you are here. You are here because this is your dream. You worked for it. You earned it. This is what you want your life to be. This is what means the most to you, or you wouldn't be here despite your problems. The kitchen is your solace. Cooking is your passion. This is your haven, your dream. And it would be completely ridiculous and idiotic to let something or someone else, even family, ruin it - ruin what’s yours.”

I stare at him, my tears stopped already. His words break through the burden on my heart and pierce right into it. I realize his words are true. The burden and pain is still there, but his words make me see my strength to carry it and keep moving.

I smile at him, “Thank you.” It was barely above a whisper, but I poured every ounce of gratitude into it.

He smiled back and squeezed my hand once more before letting go. We make our way back into the kitchen, receiving a few glances as we were absent for quite a long time. The kitchen seems to have managed without us.

We all get back to our work in a few minutes. Alex looks at me one last time, his eyes unmasked and conveying the acknowledgement of a friendship, neutral ground, finally forged between us - all the repercussions of the past forgotten. A new start. Another layer to his mask chipped away. I nod at him and we get back to work.

We finish up the rest of the day not really talking to each other, but stealing glances at one another. Aubrey will inform me that he’s staring at me, and I glance over to him, he is no longer looking my way, I take the opportunity to stare back.

“Hey Rebecca, I’m gonna go take out the trash, I’ll be right back.” Aubrey gathers up the four remaining bags of trash and pushes the cart out the back door of the kitchen.

“Okay,” I reply, scrubbing away at a leftover pot in the sink.

“Need any help?” Alex offers.

“Um, if you could finishing rinsing off those dishes, that would be great,” I tell him with a smile.

He says nothing, he just gets to work on rinsing and sanitizing the dishes.

“Feeling better?” He asks.

“Yeah.”

“Good.” It stays awkward for a couple of seconds.

“Have we really come to this point?” I ask.

“What point?”

“Awkward conversation,” I smile.

“It wasn't awkward until you mentioned it was awkward. Thank you for that,” he chuckles, placing several pots and pans back on their designated racks.

“You’re welcome,” I grin.

The staff and I finish cleaning the kitchen and head out for the night. I didn't realize how tired I was until I got home and passed out on my bed, not even realizing that this will be my second day without three square meals.

(So this is definitely my longest chapter so far. It took a while, but I did it. I hope you guys liked it and that I didn't disappoint. Love you guys! Also, the song on the side is Hearts A Mess by Gotye.)