Cocina Criolla

“Yeah…”

Amy softly “Eek!”ed away from Carmen’s invading finger, but her mind was busy digesting what they’d just talked about. Exhausting was right. There were mornings where she woke up to find that she hadn’t bothered to change out of her clothes or even wash off her makeup before collapsing into her futon the previous night. Though, really, a big part of why she came home so worn out every night was because she’d finally found a boyfriend that could keep up with her.

Huh. Army. Was he one of the interesting ones? Or did he fall under the crazy umbrella? It seemed like there was a lot of overlap between the two. Sure, he wasn’t a fucking bike gang leader, and he never made her fear for her well-being like Mako did, but he was pretty reliably crazy, wasn’t he? It wasn’t like Amy could claim to be any saner than either of them, either. And was “drama-free” really what she was after? Wasn’t a perpetual “high-rise” what she’d always wanted from life? Isn’t that why she started traveling in the first place?

So yeah, some nights she came home and just passed out. But the fact was that she’d never slept better than after she’d come to Japan.

Amy lifted herself off of the counter, then leaned back again, this time resting against her hands. There was a small smile on her face when she looked up at Carmen beside her. “Yeah, you’re right. But, you know, I kind of like it this way.”

'Me too." Carmen mirrored Amy's soft smile as she looked back, letting her hands go through motions she'd done a hundred times over. It was all mechanical, all practiced, like her hands knew what to do regardless of whether her brain did. Gave her time to focus on Amy without too much distraction.

”It’s funny.” Her eyes went back to the work as a bubble popped, giving her a little splatter on the wrist. ”I was worried when I first came to Japan. I’d heard things about the people - not all good things. It’s traditionally not the most open society. Not as bad as some others, but there’s an anti-immigrant vibe that you don’t have to look too hard to find.”

She had a wistful moment where she remembered her first few days off the plane. Getting lost. Struggling to find someone who spoke at least one of her languages. Getting the currency down. Losing her wallet. Truly, those were the fun times.

Carmen moved away from the oven, made her way to the fridge and brought out a bottle of water. "But things got better. I got used to the charm of this place. It sort of grows on you."