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October 31th, 2023

La Perla

Austin, Texas

Luciana called for Vidalia in the kitchen promptly after the evening rush had finally died. At first, Vidalia prepared herself for a scolding from the older cook for not keeping an adequate eye on the pastries as she should’ve been. 

However, instead of looking displeased Luciana pointed her head in the direction of the back exit, where goods and supplies were usually brought in. If she remembered correctly, Mondays were the days that the alcohol and other beverages were brought in. Mostly because after the weekend was over, there was rarely anything left to drink. 

Then there were Tuesdays; the day when the produce was delivered. Often early in the mornings when the La Perla just opened its doors and her tío reviewed and signed for everything that was ordered. 

But with her tío being gone, Vidalia was in a position she hated being in: in charge. She already dealt with three Karens all within the same hour and all who did not leave a tip. Vidalia wouldn’t have minded if they came from her section, but for the Karens to have sat in the section of her coworkers who depended on tips to feed their little children was unkind. 

So as tired as she was, Vidalia made her way to the narrow hallway. Only to let out a laugh when she met the produce man, Rodrigo Arceo, dressed in full costume as Count Dracula whilst poorly attempting to eat a strawberry empanada out of fake-plastic fangs. 

“Not exactly blood is it, my lord Dracula?” Vidalia teased, watching as Rodrigo sat straighter in his stool with strawberry drooling down his chin. 

“Oh, Vida, what do you add in these to make them taste so good?” Rodrigo asked, humming at the taste of such fine sweetness. 

“It’s a secret, my lord.” Vidalia smirked.  The forty-one year old threw his head in laughter. It’d been years since he had asked–begged Vidalia for the recipe of the empanadas and once she had given it to him, he took it upon himself to bake them at home. Although they were good, they didn’t exactly taste like Vidalia’s. 

“Belen has taught you well,” Rodrigo said with a mouthful. “So he has. Now, would you mind if I begin looking over the list? I have a restaurant to clean up afterwards and I don’t plan on staying longer than I have to.” 

At her words, Rodrigo stood abruptly from his stool alarmed, causing Vidalia to give him one strange look. “Actually about that…” Rodrigo trailed as he scratched the back of his perfectly gelled head. 

Vidalia raised a simple brow at the tall man in front of her. “Does this have to do with the fact that you came in now instead of the morning?”

Out of the ten years she’s known the produce man, Vidalia has only seen Rodrigo late just twice. Both of those two times had been within good reason, except now. 

Rodrigo sheepishly nodded his head, not meeting her eye and instead set his focus on the blue plate of empanadas. Vidalia took the single sheet of the order form from the prep table and began reviewing the list of items her tío needed for the week. 

Almost every item had been accounted for. All but the strawberries, which weren’t even half of what was ordered. What Rodrigo had brought would not last for an entire three days and that would soon become a problem down the week. 

Especially this week. 

Vidalia had no choice but to let out a long sigh. At least this time it wasn’t the avocados. All hell had broken loose whenever it was decreed a national shortage. 

“There’s exactly four preorders of strawberry shortcake and chocoflan needed for tomorrow for Dia De Los Muertos; all which require strawberries. I can probably get away with the chocoflan, but certainly not the strawberry shortcake.” 

“Well, this could be enough for the preorders–” Rodrigo tried to reason before Vidalia shook her head and cut him off. 

“—it can be. Though, if I know people, which I do, then there will be those who come in at the last minute and want strawberry shortcake, cheesecake, empanadas, and tarts.” Vidalia explained without taking a breath. “And that’s just for tomorrow. Who knows how many more orders we’ll get for the rest of the week.”

Rodrigo went quiet. A part of him wanted to suggest using the blueberries he picked from his farm as an alternative. However, the last time he gave cooking advice to a professional chef it earned him a death glare and various sarcastic comments. 

“I’ll fix this,” Rodrigo confessed. Vidalia shot him a desperate and pleading look, “please do. I’ll sign and hand this over to Belen.” 

By killing two birds with one stone, Vidalia reassured Rodrigo that she would not tell her tío about this so that both wouldn’t have to worry. Belen was easily prone to stress and this wasn’t something Vidalia wanted to witness right before their trip. 

The produce man thanked her multiple times before she began helping him unload the crates of the fruits and vegetables. 

One crate, at the very bottom of all others, perplexed Vidalia. It held little to no weight and through the small holes, a bouquet of perhaps the most beautiful fiery-red flowers Vidalia had ever seen. 

“I didn’t know you grew flowers too, Rodrigo.” Vidalia said, bringing the flowers close to her nose. She let out a dreamy sigh at the smell of eucalyptus and another perfumed scent. 

Rodrigo’s cheeks flushed, loss for words. “Um…I do,” his brown eyes wandered around the room until they settled back to Vidalia. “Those are actually for you. A belated birthday gift.” 

Vidalia narrowed her eyes, seeing right through his little white lie. 

“Are they now?” 

Rodrigo nodded, placing his hands behind his back. 

“And what a coincidence it is, that you gifted me red carnations. The same flowers that my mother adores.” Vidalia commented, hoping for some kind of confession from Rodrigo. 

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Rodrigo stared back with an empty expression. Vidalia’s smile grew larger, seeing him become more flustered was all the confession she needed for now. 

-

When the clock had struck nine, Vidalia went ahead and dismissed Luciana and Cristina for the night as well as the remaining servers, so that they could spend Halloween with their children, leaving Vidalia by herself. 

She made sure to give everyone a slice of tres leches cake as their treat to enjoy in their homes and the remaining empanadas to Rodrigo right before he left back to his farm. In return, Rodrigo tossed her a ripe pomegranate from his van, seeing as it was her favorite fruit.  

Then, Vidalia took it upon herself to finish cleaning the restaurant, refilling the salt and peppers shakers, napkins, and rolling the last bit of silverware for tomorrow as she watched Amor Real on the restaurant’s tv. 

It was the only place she ever got to see her novelas. There and the library at UT, during her study sessions. Her mother had practically given away the living room tv to the local Goodwill one random day of her senior year of high school.

To this day, Vidalia never knew why she did. 

And Vidalia was smart enough not to ask questions to her mother.

“I had a feeling you were here.” A voice vibrates above her, but Vidalia makes no move to look up. She already knew the intruder and person’s familiarity with the entrance passcode. “Also because I stopped by your house and Maturin was off in your room,” her dear friend Milena noted. 

Maturin was a stained glass lamp in the shape of a turtle, Vidalia found in an estate sale for ten bucks whilst in perfect condition. Milena had accompanied her that day and suggested Maturin for a name. 

The pair had finally watched IT for the first time during lockdown, and Vidalia was still processing that a fuckin’ clown was afraid of a goddamned turtle. Granted, Vidalia knew the real reason why Pennywise acted that way. Yet it was still funny. 

Maturin the lamp, served as a signal that Vidalia was home and it was safe for Milena to sneak inside with ease. 

“Yea, well we were supposed to close earlier but a two hour rush held us back. Which is unusual, Halloween is never this busy.” 

Milena hummed before she sat across from her, taking a few cloth napkins and silverware to fold them neatly as Vidalia did. 

“What about you? Weren’t you supposed to go out tonight with Chris?” Vidalia asked. 

“Oh, I didn’t tell you? I dumped his ass because he ended up being a mommy’s boy. So much so that it felt incestious… yuck!” Milena’s body shuddered with disgust. Vidalia joined in and began to make gagging noises. 

Chris Porte was a classmate Milena and Vidalia shared at the University of Texas at Austin. He too was planning to major in nursing and had caught Milena’s eye from the very beginning of the school year. 

Chris was traditionally handsome. He had the whole blonde hair and blue eyes sort of features Vidalia frequently saw around school. She had only talked to him once, and once was enough. Chris Porte could really talk one’s ear off, yet some of the things he had to say didn’t sit right with Vidalia. 

Especially the things Milena confided in her. 

“I should’ve caught on earlier when he called me ‘mommy’ during sex.” Milena disclosed, making Vidalia instantly cover her ears. 

“Anyways…” Milena drawled as her blue eyes settled to the red carnations. She plucked a single stem, admiring its natural earthy perfume before she placed the flower behind her ear.

“Those were a gift from Rodrigo for my birthday apparently. Though, I firmly believe it’s intended for my mom; she loves red carnations.” Vidalia explained, finishing the last round of silverware. 

“Ah, to have an admirer who gives you lively flowers. It’s a shame really, where flowers bloom so does hope. And Rodrigo must have a tremendous amount of it for your mother not to see an ounce of that.” 

Vidalia winces at Milena's choice of words. “She acknowledges him but you have to know my mother could care less in the matters of the heart,” Vidalia answered earnestly. 

Her mother, Daella had known for over a decade of Rodrigo’s true feelings for her. Rodrigo never verbally said them, but by showering her mother with small gifts and asking her out to dinners, Daella knew where his heart lay. And Daella did her best to avoid him entirely on Tuesdays and any day he showed up looking for her. 

At the very beginning, Vidalia didn’t understand why; Rodrigo was not hard on the eyes. He had a good stable job he loved doing, especially in the comfort of his own home. A large farm with over eighty acres of land. 

Vidalia knew he was divorced, for reasons she didn’t know. Yet he always had something positive to say about his ex wife, which meant to Vidalia that they might have ended their marriage on good terms. They both also had four children together, two boys and two girls that lived with their mother in California. 

They would occasionally come down to Austin to visit Rodrigo, and Vidalia would hang out with Eva and Amanda and have debates whether Whataburger or In-N-Out was the best. 

“Maybe it is not men she likes but women,” Milena suggested, laughing at the idea. Vidalia smiled as she shook her head. “My mother doesn’t like anyone.” Sometimes, Vidalia wondered if her own mother even liked her. 

“Yea I know, she still mad dogs me every chance she gets.” Milena scoffed, angrily shoving the made silverware into the small bin at the hostess stand. “But whatever, I’m over it.”

Vidalia wanted to assure her friend that her mother didn’t hate Milena. Daella naturally disliked anyone she met, especially when it came to her only child due to overprotectiveness. However, Milena quickly decided to change the subject. 

“Since we were sort of on the topic of birthdays…” Milena drawled with a lighthearted tone. She pulled a rectangle wrapped item, hidden at the back of a booth, and playfully slid it in front of her. 

Vidalia glanced between the gift and her mischievous looking friend. “Milena, you already gave me a gift.” Milena had given her a birthday gift three days ago. A very fluffy dragon Squishmallow holding a single stem on her favorite flower, Amaryllis. 

“The Squishmallow was a pre-gift. And you know me, if something is below twenty dollars then it’s not really considered a gift.” Milena shrugged. 

But to Vidalia money had no value in a gift. As corny as it sounded, being thought of meant more to her than anything. 

“I don’t know what to say–”

“—just open your gift!” Milena exclaimed before her friend held any more feelings of guilt. 

Vidalia rolled her eyes as she began to carefully rip off the pink wrapping paper to reveal a thick and dark brown leather journal. 

“I know it’s tradition in your family to journal everything and a week ago I saw you journaling on a piece of napkin. So I figured you needed another journal to write on for your adventures in Mexico.” 

Vidalia ran her hands through the skin of her brand new journal, admiring its smoothness along with the engraved marigold design and her initials—V.T— on the center. It was just what Vidalia needed; her previous journal had been overfilled as well as all the others.

Ever since she could write, her abuelo made everyone in her family promise to keep a journal and write every day of everything they did and experienced– no matter how boring and silly it was. And Vidalia had kept her word.

“Oh, Milena, this is beautiful! Thank you!” Vidalia was not one for hugging people, but she threw her around her friend’s frame and hugged her close. 

“I’m glad you like it and happy belated birthday,” Milena giggled. “I also asked the man at the market if he could personalize it more by adding a lock and key.” She pulled an orange color ribbon behind the journal. At the end of the ribbon was an iron heart shaped key.

Vidalia knew the reasoning behind this. Milena did not want her mother to read and know the private details of her life.

Daella had once read an excerpt on Vidalia’s journal about the personal details of Milena’s romantic affairs with men. Which made Daella strictly forbid Vidalia from being friends with Milena. 

Vidalia thanked her dear friend once again before they both turned at the sound of a bell. Her tío Belén came in with an exhausted look on his face, holding a handful of documents in his hands. 

“Hola, Milena. How are you? Staying out of trouble, I hope?” Belén greeted as he grabbed the clipboard of today’s earlier produce. Milena sat straighter, batting her eyelashes coquettishly at the man twice her age.

“I’m alright, thanks for asking. I do my best to stay out of trouble but trouble always seems to find me,” Milena grinned. “What about you?” 

As if Belén sensed the tone of her voice he replied, “doing well. I bought some American treats for my wife and children to enjoy back in Mexico.” 

Vidalia did her best to keep her expression at minimum. Milena had a slight crush on her uncle ever since she first saw him; always subtly hitting on him. Belén, of course, knew about this but he was a man who loved his wife very dearly and would never even think about another woman. 

Young or older. Belén was a sucker for his only love even if she were more than a thousand miles away. 

“Feel free to get as many mazapanes as you’d like for you and your family, Milena.” Belén offered as his violet eyes briefly glanced behind Vidalia. 

“Vidalia, there’s someone seated in your section.” 

Vidalia furrowed her brows in confusion. The restaurant had been closed for more than thirty minutes now, and the only person she’d seen was Milena. 

“That’s my queue to leave. Call me as soon as you land at your grandparents!” Milena waved before Vidalia had a chance to say goodbye. 

She glanced back at her tables and indeed saw a young man seated in the middle of her section. His gaze had been set between her and Belén, primarily on her. Vidalia thought this as him waiting for her to serve him and not anything else. 

Gods know how long he must have been waiting. 

“Howdy,” Vidalia greeted as she approached the man. “I’m Vida. I’ll be your server for today. May I get you started on something to drink?” Vidalia asked, getting her notepad ready. 

After a few minutes of silence, her eyes landed back on the man. He had looked lost for words and Vidalia noticed the way his pale hands shook the closer she stood beside him. 

It was then when she took in his otherworldly features; his hair was long–longer than hers– cascading down his back with a bright color of silver, similar to Belén’s. His eyes were wide and round of deep brown color but Vidalia saw a hint of violet in them. 

Something about him seemed…familiar. 

“C-can I have some horchata, please?” The man asked, his voice breaking. “Of course, will you be needing a minute to look over the menu or are you ready to order?” 

“No! I mean… yes I am ready to order,” he laughed nervously but doing so a section of his hair slid back revealing a scar on the left side of his face. 

Vidalia’s expression fell as an angry feeling hit her chest. 

“My mother once told me this place has the best chocoflan in all of Texas and I would like to have a piece, if I may.” The man’s brown eyes assessed Vidalia before he slid a piece of his hair back to cover the scar he didn’t want her to see. 

Vidalia nodded, writing down the simple order in her notepad. “Aw, well tell her thank you for the compliment. I’m the one who makes the chocoflan and the other pastries. I’ll go get you your slice, without strawberries since you’re allergic, right?” 

The young man appeared to be shocked by her words but Vidalia was too preoccupied to notice. Instead she offered him a simple smile as she walked back to the kitchen to pour the last bit of horchata left from the vitrolero. After that, Vidalia made sure to slice a generous size of the chocoflan and pick off any chunks of strawberries. 

When Vidalia came back, she found another man inside the restaurant. His features were similar to that of the other man she talked to. Except this man’s hair was curly and cut short and the color appeared to be more golden than silver. His skin was a shade darker that complimented his soft lilac eyes. 

Vidalia assumed they were brothers who hadn’t seen each other for some time. 

“Howdy, will you be ordering as well?” Vidalia asked the new man, setting the plate of chocoflan and the horchata glass on the table. 

The new man gasped as his eyes widened at the sight of her. 

Did she have a mustache sharpied on her face that she wasn’t aware of? Or what?

The new man said nothing and redirected his gaze on his older brother, saying things in a language Vidalia didn’t quite understand. 

“My brother says if he could also have a plate of chocoflan to try, please?” The older brother wondered. 

“Yes, no problem. He’s not allergic to anything is he?”

“No, I am not, my lady.” The younger brother replied this time. His voice sounded sharp and urgent unlike his brother. 

Vidalia nodded once more before going back to the kitchen to grab another slice with some water. 

However, when she came back the pair had vanished into thin air. The slice of chocoflan and the horchata had been untouched. Even if it’d been uneaten, she still had to throw it out as it was the rule. 

Vidalia scoffed, taking the dishes back to the kitchen and cleared the table until something caught her eye. 

A small leather pouch was left behind and hidden underneath the menu. Vidalia pulled the string and emptied its contents into her palm. 

A note, a heavy steel necklace, and two golden coins came out. 

No desperdicies ni una sola gota

—A

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translation ^: do not waste a single drop

note: