Chapter Text
“Dad…”
“Sydney? Baby are you alright?” Emmanuel asked, stepping outside of his workshop into the street.
“Yeah, I’m fine. I just… I-I have a flat tire.” Her shaky voice struggled to get the words out. Sydney had gotten her learners permit the day she turned 15. She had begged her dad to let her take the day off school and passed the test on the first try. Before he would even let her drive around the block he had taught her how to change a tire and told her the story of his first date with her mom at least half a dozen times. He knew she could change a tire with her eyes closed, but he still asked her anyways.
“Do you want me to come fix it?”
“Please.” Her watery voice echoed through his phone.
"I'll be right there."
He found her sitting on the curb with her head in her hands and her chef whites covered in red sauce stains. As he got out of his car she lifted her head and he met her glossy eyes.
“What happened?”
“The pasta was too dry…” She said laughing as tears spilled from her eyes and he pulled her into a hug.
“But I bet the sauce was amazing.” He said rubbing her back as she nodded into is shoulder.
“It was alright…”
“Come home, Sydney.”
And that was the end of Sheridan Road. By the next week she had already sold the little furniture she owned on facebook marketplace, her roommate had found someone new to take over her lease, and the boxes filled with pots and pans were in the back of her van. By the following week, the van was sold and she had made a small dent to her mountain of credit card debt and loans. By the end of the month, she had been back to taking the buses and trains. And on one fateful Tuesday afternoon, the bus that she was supposed to get on to head back home to from a job interview at a nearby fine dining establishment that stated she could start off as line cook doing prep, would hit a pothole half a mile away and blow its tire. And as she stood on the corner of Huron and Orleans, the sun would be angled just high enough to convince her to cross the street to a nearby sandwich shop and buy some water. But before she could open the door the sign saying “Sous Chef Needed $22/hr Call Carmen Berzatto” would stop her in her tracks. She would go home that night and type up the number 3 times before finally calling. His voice sounded like the interviews, not that she had seen that many of them. Mainly just his acceptance speech for his James Beard award and the Michelin one. She asked if she could stage and in between cutting off the call to yell at someone every 30 seconds and apologizing to her, they would agree that her first day staging would be the day after tomorrow.
“A sandwich shop?” Emmanuel said putting down his morning paper.
“Okay, don’t say it like that. It’s not like it’s Subway. It’s basically a Chicago landmark.”
“I’m sure it is. But why don’t you call back one of those fancy restaurants you used to work for? I’m sure they know people hiring-“
“Look it’s not just a sandwich shop, it’s run by a seriously top level Chef. I mean he was literally Food and Wines best new Chef when he was 21. And it’s actually good thing to start small, you’re the one always telling me not to jump ahead of myself and work my way up so this is me working my way up.”
“You know, I was just talking to your Cousin Monty and he said-"
“I’m not going to work at an airport.” She said groaning and rolling her eyes.
“Okay, okay. I’m not saying that.” Emmanuel said raising his arms up “It’s just… good to keep your options open, explore new opportunities while you… regroup.”
“It’s going to be good, Dad. I’ll be a sous, which is a step up from what I was before Sheridan, it’s a promotion.”
“A minimum wage promotion.”
“Not minimum, slightly above. And if you consider the fact that I was making negative money on Sheridan, it is technically a pay bump.”
He sighed, “Look I know you will be great, you always are. I just don’t want to see you back at something you don’t like, isn’t this why you started Sheridan Road in the first place?”
“This will be different, okay? Trust me for once, please?” She said squeezing his shoulder.
“Okay…” He said putting his hand over hers.
“I’ll see you tonight.” She kissed his cheek and headed out the door.
“Love you, Chef.”
“Love you!”
The next 6 months were a coin flip on how Sydney would come home. Some nights she would collapse on the couch as soon as she walked in and Emmanuel would grab her duvet from her bed and tuck her in. Other nights she would not be able to stop talking about who did what today, if Tina or Richie were driving her insane, if the toilet blew up again or the bread caught fire. But most nights she just headed straight for the shower and was out the door again before he could eat his breakfast. Until one day that he walked into the apartment and twelve different scents hit his nose. He peered into the kitchen saw her scribbling in her notebook while stirring a saucepan.
“Sydney? What are you doing home so early?” She looked up from her writing and gave him a small smile.
“I-I quit.”
He nodded and pulled her into a hug.
“I think I might hate him.” She said into his shoulder.
“Well, then I hate him too.” He said and kiss the top of her head.
“Please don’t tell me you told me so.”
“I won’t.”
The next 3 days Emmanuel would wake up to a full breakfast spread every morning. Freshly squeezed orange juice, eggs Benedict, bacon, and homemade sourdough toast. “I even churned the butter myself.” She said as she handed him a lunchbox that came with an entree, three sides, and reheating instructions. He smiled and kissed her goodbye. Sydney’s stress cooking was always something that could be felt in the entire building. When her fridge could not hold anymore containers the neighbors would be the first to benefit. “She should quit more often,” the older man upstairs would tell Emmanuel and he would threaten to cut him off the leftovers. This time dinner was four courses and a non alcoholic beverage pairing for each dish, he could feel the waistband on his trousers squeezing him ever so slightly more each day that passed.
“Good news, I got a new job. So no need to get a gym membership just yet.” She said as she zested lemon above his plate.
“Already? That’s great!”
“Well, it’s technically my old job but you see Carm and I-”
“Sydney…”
“We are fixing The Beef. We’ve got funding. It’s going to be The Bear now, whole new concept, it’s going to be way more elevated, not just sandwiches. Although we’re keeping them just in a window in the back.” Emmanuel sighed shaking his head. “We already have some of the money for renovations, it’s really just like a bit of a face lift for the old place, you know? New paint and equipment and stuff.”
“Syd…”
“Dad, don’t. It’s different, we’re different. We’re good. It’s all water under the bridge. We have a business plan and we’re partners. This isn’t like last time.”
He sighed, “What happened to hating him?”
“I never said that. That’s not what I said. He’s… a complicated individual. But we’re good, we’re on the same page. We know what we want and we have the means to get there. It’s a different situation.”
“So when can I meet this business partner of yours?”
“Stop it. You’re not going to do that thing you do.”
“What thing?”
“That thing were you try to be all tough and intimidating. This is work. You can come when it’s open.”
“If it opens…”
“Dad!”
“Sorry, this is just. I’m getting deja vu here, okay?”
“I know. Just trust me, it’s a good thing.”