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One month turns into two.
The probationary period ends and mom admits that we can stay for good.
Two months turn into three.
Although it’s difficult, I take mom and Sunny’s advice and keep putting one foot in front of the other. Though I still haven’t felt up to filming cooking videos, I get back to selling at the food stall. Cooking is my happy place and I do enjoy the routine of meeting people and seeing their excitement over the meal I prepared.
Ebidiah is always there at the food stall. I think he has a crush on mom because he’s ten times more helpful when she’s around. Unfortunately, he’s not mom’s type—what with him being homeless, broke and a drug addict of course.
But I do appreciate having his strength and cheerful attitude. Seeing Ebidiah smiling despite all he’s been through gives me the strength to be a little braver every day.
At month four, I start doing videos again. These videos don’t do as well. Social media moves extremely fast. What was working before my hiatus isn’t working now. However, I’m not discouraged. In fact, I feel uniquely grateful to be in the position I’m in.
Cullen took care of our family so well financially that I don’thaveto work my old job or work any job for the rest of my life if I don’t want to. It’s crazy to think that I had the privilege of not doing much of anything except healing for three months straight. Not everyone has such an opportunity and I’m not blind to my blessings.
Since I had time to myself to mourn, to think, and to wallow, I’m in a much better mental place when I do emerge back into the world. I’m ready to handle the ups and downs of marketing my business.
I throw myself headfirst into making fresh content and selling at the stall. Slowly, I gain back the momentum I lost before.
Mom flies back to Belize briefly so she’s not in violation of her visa and then returns in time to help me purchase a commercial kitchen space.
Whitaker, too, is a very involved business advisor. At first, I thought the ‘gifts’ he mentioned were the stove, Cullen’s note, and a laptop Whitaker later provided to Josiah.
Now, I think the present that Cullen intended on giving us was Whitaker himself.
He’s always patient in answering my questions, extremely knowledgeable in business tax, setting up an LLC and all the other preparations I need to run my own catering service.
And he even surprised me by jumping in headfirst in the search for a commercial kitchen space. In less time than anticipated, Whitaker presents me with a list of converted restaurants that perfectly fit my criteria.
Objectively, life is good.
No, objectively, life is way better than it was before.
I have friends now. Sunny is exactly like her name, full of sunshine, sass, and warmth.
She and Darrelfinallyconvince me to visit their farmhouse and I realize that the reason Sunny and her elite group of friends are so wealthy isn’t because they have money. It’s because they have each other.
I click really well with Dejonae, a college-aged music composer and Clarissa, the manager at a non-profit. Clarissa even hires me to cater one of their fundraisers and I’m super excited about that.
My work is another area that’s improved. I no longer slave away at a job I barely tolerate for the sake of paying bills. Now, I get to do what I love. Though it’s hard work balancing both filming and selling from the stall, I truly enjoy cooking.
Another surprise upgrade to my life? Not only do I get to cook, I also get to cook with mymom.That’s another gift from Cullen that I’ll treasure forever.
As I continue to live, smiles come a little faster, the guilt comes a little slower, and I start seeing the light at the end of the tunnel.
Some days, I get through a whirlwind of meetings with Whitaker, filming, sending videos to my editor and I feel completely normal, as if I’ve truly entered a new chapter.
Other days, a memory of Cullen smiling at me or teasing me will fill my head and I’ll feel tears running down my face.
On those days, I reach for my phone and call Cullen. His number is still working, though my calls keep going to voicemail.
I don’t know which poor soul is receiving my messages lately, but they haven’t blocked me yet so I’ve kept going.
“Hi, Cullen,” I say, tucking the phone against my ear, “it’s seven am, and I’m having a cup of tea instead of coffee because my voice is hoarse from crying last night. And no I wasn’t crying because I missed you. Although I do.”
I pause. “I was actually crying from laughing so hard. I hired a video editor last week. He makes my videos ten times funnier with the close ups and the clips of funny videos he inserts. He’s young. Like fresh out of high school, so I don’t understand some of the jokes, but the ones I do understand arehilarious. I don’t think you’d laugh though. You never were the kind of guy to get a joke.”
I smile wistfully as the beep sounds in my ear, warning me that I’m out of time.