How To Royalty

Twirling and turning in my apron, I hummed my favourite Ed Sheeran song, 'Eyes Closed' in my head, as I navigated my way around the kitchen—going about my daily routine before my abuela's restaurant opened for the day.

"Diaz? Go get me some onion from the storage!" My abuela called out as she stirred a dish that was on the stove. She was a tanned and compassionate but sometimes harsh, plus-sized lady with barely 5'10ft ten of height, hair that she dyed white as a result of the increasing number of grey hair on her head, and wrinkles on her face.

"Okay mama," I said moonwalking towards my destination.

"Hurry up!" She added in a matter of urgency tone seeing that I was dance-walking.

At the sound of her voice and the obedience it commanded, I hastened my pace whilst putting my humming on pause alongside my dancing. I ran to the storage that sat behind the small restaurant with an access door at one end of the kitchen.

In a flash, I was back with two bulbs of onions, because my abuela gets easily pissed with things concerning the restaurant meals. 'Food is the key to people's pockets, so it always has to be perfect to keep the customers coming back for more,' she had always reminded me.

The restaurant was nothing fancy, it was a story building with the bottom floor housing the restaurant that contained just a medium-sized eating area, a kitchen at the back, a storage room that seats behind the restaurant building, and the top housing abuela's living area—with a small kitchen, small lounge, and two bedrooms, one bigger than the other.

She planned on handing the restaurant down to me when she got too old, so she was training me to run the place. And every day was another day of learning.

"Here you go abuela," I said handing her the onions. Walking past her, I picked a broom
from behind a door that led to the eating area of the restaurant and out of the kitchen. Closing the door behind me as I exited, I continued humming from where I stopped as I swept the floors.

I was so engrossed in my chore and humming, that it was only when I heard the ring of the bell that sat on top of the entrance of the restaurant, that I stopped. "Sorry! We're not open yet, come back in an hour," looking up, I said to a tall muscular man in a black tuxedo and an electronic wire strapped around his ear.

With an emotionless face, he answered. "I'm here to deliver a message from his royal Majesty the King to one Mr. Diaz Alejandro and Cristina Alejandro. Both mentioned names are invited to dinner with the king tonight at the fifth hour after noon." Immediately he was done, he turned around, walked out of the restaurant then entered a black land cruiser and drove off.

"Weird!" I said shaking my head in hopes to clear the fog of confusion that had clouded my mind.

Hearing the ringing of the bell, my abuela came out of the kitchen just in time to see the car drive off. "Who was that?" She asked.

"It was one weirdo from the palace. Just ignore him," I answered getting back to cleaning.

"Diaz Santiago Jose Alejandro? Who was that?" She said calling my full name, causing my heart to skip a beat. Whenever she did that, she had gotten serious, and I always ended up with no television for the rest of the month—if I didn't give in to her request.

"It's nothing for you to worry about Mama," I said in a whining tone. She has a habit of worrying over meaningless things, and I didn't want to give her something new to worry about.

"Don't tell me it's nothing!" She said in a serious tone then walked into the kitchen, and I let out a sigh of relief as she did.

But my moment of relaxation was cut short when she returned to the eating area with a spatula in hand. "Diaz Santiago Jose Alejandro, you better speak now if you know what's good for you," she said, pointing the spatula to me, and then she started closing the distance between us. I began backing away but was stopped from advancing by a table, and that was the opportunity she needed to get to me and point the spatula a few inches between my eyes.