Chapter Text
“This is 911, what is your emergency?”
“....”
Sugar could barely hear the voice fluttering through the speaker right next to her ear.
It wasn't because Richie or Fak were screaming at each other, and for the first time there was not a trace of humor in their words, to find any tool in the place to open that damn door.
It was her own heartbeat slamming into her ears.
“Ma'am, are you still there? What is your emergency?”
“She's trapped…” Sugar’s voice distant before her mind found a second of clarity in the panic. “We need help!”
Carmy: don’t close up yet, i’ll be there in 30 to go over the prep.
Carmy: nevermind syd, go home. i’ll do it tomorrow
Sydney looked at the read but unanswered texts on her phone for two full minutes. She didn’t respond to the first because she knew the second one would come without fail. It’s been their dance for weeks now. She mulled over her response like she always did anyway.
it’s really important–
Delete. It is important, but she is so done with being the one to say it every damn day.
k.
Delete. He’ll clock her passive aggressiveness and get pissy and still not do anything. Why got through another fight?
No prob, i was tired anyway. Btw don’t forget we r meeting with electrical again too, some shit isn;t working right
Send. Read at 9:47.
heard, ill take care of it. promise
Promise. Sydney hated that word. Even before Carmy used it every time he needed to get her to move on about whatever he was flaking on at any given moment. Promises are you just ignoring reality and trying to get others to ignore it too.
Her mom’s doctor promised her that she would be okay a month before she wasn’t.
Her ex promised to cut back on his drinking before showing up that night completely off his face.
And now Carmy.
The dumb thing was, Sydney always understood why people say it. Those doctors didn’t want a crying four year old on their hands. Her ex had a problem and Sydney made sure to get him some help before she left him. And Carmy cares so much about this place. Anyone could tell from how he spoke about its history and its future. His blue eyes shown with that intensity that could make anyone impassioned.
She can pick up the slack if that’s what it takes, but she is so tired of him promising to do the right thing. She is so tired of believing in him and defending him from Sugar and…and she was just tired.
She has been in constant motion for the last thirteen hours. Everything needed fixing and double checking and rearranging and tastings and approvals and there was so much fucking paperwork. Sugar handled the brunt of logistics but Sydney and Carmy, well nowadays mostly Sydney, had to have the final say on everything.
Sydney sighed and went through her checklist again for the day one last time. Her feet and back were crying for her bed but she just had some stuff to put in the walk in and she’d be done.
Maybe she was too tired. Because she forgot to make sure to wedge the door open. When it shut behind her she didn’t panic. Simply pushed on the door, it shouldn’t lock automatically, but it didn’t move.
It’s okay, she told her racing heart. She simply found the emergency release, a plunger like knob near the floor, and released a breath.
It didn’t work. She kept trying again and again and again. Nothing.
Right, there electrical was fucked. And so was the walk in. Carmy said he’d take care of both of them. He promised.
Fuck.
Richie usually has a smoke in the alley before he leaves and he only left fifteen minutes ago. Sydney hit the panic button over and over, not even sure if it was working, slamming her hands on the inside of the door and yelling like hell for five minutes before the truth hit her.
She’s trapped and she’s alone. Suddenly all the fear of every hypothetical failure and disaster she imagined didn’t hold a candle to this near force of very real dread that spread through.
Fuck.
Okay so maybe reality didn’t fully hit her because Sydney spent her first thirty minutes in the fridge wasting her oxygen.
Kicking the emergency release with all her strength. Yelling for anyone who could somehow hear her through steel and concrete walls. Pacing every inch of the tiny space, even climbing on shelves with one hand on her phone, to find on hint of reception. All that amounted to standing in the middle of the walk in, willing the contents of her stomach to stay where it is.
She was not spending the night watching her own vomit freeze.
Nobody ever listened through the lecture or read the safety manuals about the walk-ins. Any cook says otherwise then they are lying. Sydney, in all her obsession with precaution, never did in any kitchen she worked in.
But two summers ago she read an article on Twitter about a dishwasher in Nevada getting locked in one over an entire weekend. The replies were either heart and prayer emojis or unaware assholes calling the poor guy and idiot. But the article had a quick survivor guide near the end in case you're ever in the same boat. She didn’t think she would be but skimmed it out of boredom while she waited for the L train.
Step 1: Don’t panic.
She giggled to herself that she already failed. So typical.
Step 2: Try the releases and try to contact help.
No shit, she thought bitterly.
Step 3: Stay as still as possible.
The tiny paragraph that followed that step intrigued her that day, imagining keeping yourself moving would stave off frostbite, but it explained that oxygen also had to be a priority. Most standard walk in fridges or freezers have enough oxygen for almost a day but only if you aren’t wasting it.
Sydney won’t be in here for that long, Sugar will be here at 7am by the earliest. Sydney checked her phone.
9 hours. She just had to shut up and hold out for 9 hours.
Step 4: Preserve your heat.
The article mentioned finding supplies within the walk-in like cardboard or aluminum foil to create insulation but they were three weeks out from officially opening. The only thing in here was some sparse ingredients in plastic jugs.
Sydney sat down quickly, pulling her jacket down over her knees and curling up like a ball in the center of the room. Hood over her head, head tucked in between her knees.
She forgot the other steps. She forgot if she had to stay awake or if sleep helped. She took a deep breath in (failing step 3) and blew out to calm herself.
9 hours.
9 hours and she’ll be catching shit from Flak and Richie about how dumb she was for getting stuck in here. 9 hours and they’ll be no pitying Twitter articles with her name in them.
Stay calm. Stay warm. Just panic in your head.
The first hour felt like six of them. She checked her frosting phone so much, convincing herself she was doing great when only ten minutes had passed since the last time she checked. She swore off checking it again until she was out.
She switched her position a lot. Her shoulders cramped up so she tried to lay on her side but that made her feel the cold even more. And she had decided it probably was best to stay awake as long as she could. So she could deal with sore shoulders.
The cold invaded her slowly. When the adrenaline wore off, she felt it start to seep into her layers. Like tiny needles teasing you with death.
Sydney was a woman that thrived in having a goal to keep her moving. Her goal right now was survival. But when that started becoming an empty milestone, she imagined her dad attending another funeral for a woman he loved.
That kept her eyes open.
Sydney followed her plan of not checking her phone. But that meant the passage of time became a hard concept to stick to. She thinks it's been 4 hours, probably 5. Or maybe 2?
4, she was gonna stick with 4 until proven otherwise.
Delusion and fantasy, she figured out, was a great distraction.
At first she imagined every warm place she had ever been. Working at the Beef during a heatwave during a particularly gruesome lunch rush. That girls trip to Florida a few years back that made her never want to leave Chicago again. Falling asleep between her parents that one night when she was little but too old to be sleeping in their bed. They had gotten bad news from her doctor that morning.
She started to enjoy the idea of her dad worrying about her being out all night without letting him. Her amazing dad calling everyone she knows and figuring out where she is and saving her. His tired but relieved face smiling at her. The thought worked for a bit before she remembered she’d had been spending so many late nights here that her dad would already be sleeping without expecting to see her come through the door.
She began to imagine the future. Months in the future where the Bear is a massive success. The crew is all gathered in the kitchen after hours, devouring beering and leftovers, smiling and talking about how great everything is going and that they were close to paying off Carmy’s uncle.
She and Carmy would stumble into their shared office, fully remodeled, half drunk and completely satisfied. Sydney imagined him telling her he can’t believe they actually did it. She’d agree. And they would laugh like they used to. They’d be tired and drained from service but they’d still be laughing.
And then he would hug her. Really tight. He would apologize after, mumbling some shit about getting too sappy and then she would hug him to shut him up. And they’d stay in each other's arms, in their own world, until being forced apart.
He’d smell like nicotine gum (in this future he finally listened to her ramblings about lung cancer) and various sauces and aftershave and a little smoke because he had little self control. He’d whisper acknowledgments of her hard work in her ear about how Sydney is responsible for the success and he was always going to be grateful.
She wouldn’t stop him. She’d accept the praise she deserved and melt into him.
Melt? Like ice cream, she giggled for some reason. Because she was still in the freezer and ice cream is what is usually in freezers not dumb girls and that was funny to her now.
Sydney wondered if laughing depleted her oxygen. She kept giggling anyway.
Besides, the cold wasn’t bothering her much anymore.
Thinking about Carmy didn’t make her laugh. It made her pissed.
Pissed was good, she decided, being pissed meant she had enough motivation to stay awake imagining everything she’d say to his face when she’d get out of hear. Which was more of the same she has been telling him politely the last few weeks.
That the door should have been fixed and the electrical should not be fucked this close to open.
How she deserved a real business partner.
With his fucking focus.
She deserved her friend back.
Well she never said the friend part to him before because it sounded pathetic in her head but she’d say it for real when she saw him next.
She’d also do it while waving around a fucking meat cleaver. Not to actually hurt him, but she should get to act like the angry crazy one for once. No one would hold her back or tell her to calm down because he deserved it.
As irresponsible as he was, she knew how guilty he’ll be in the morning or whenever he comes in. With that stupid broken look on his face. He would feel so bad he would even let her stab him. Or cut off a finger or something.
Shit. Fingers.
Sydney squeezed her digits into fist. They moved slowly to her command but they felt like little stones. They always hurt to move.
But pain was good, pain meant sensation which meant no frostbite.
Then again, she was just imagining slicing off one of her closest friends fingers with little guilt so maybe she wasn’t doing great.
She checked her toes next.
All the quiet and emptiness gave Sydney’s mind time to supply her with more than she bargained for.
Like how deep down she fully expects The Bear to implode.
Even if by some miracle they open on time and it goes well that day, this was all just a ticking time bomb. Her mind accepted the failure her heart was still denying. Carmy wouldn’t change. She would keep enabling him. They’d resent each other. They’ll fuck up a service. And then more service. Until they just because one of many failed restaurants. No star. No surprise.
Marcus and Tina have been learning so much recently and they are only gonna get better. Hell, even Richie was showing strides with all the front house shit. Who would have thought? And everyone else, names were getting muddled at the moment but their faces were clear in her mind, they would be okay to.
They’ll find good work somewhere else. She is sure of it.
They’ll be free.
She’ll move on to the next disaster. Her dad won’t kick her out and humor her next attempt at doing something right while slowly giving up on her day by day.
And Carmy. Sydney doesn’t know what he’ll do without this place. Go back to New York? For a second fear gripped her numbing body imagining Carmy spiraling down a hole he won’t be able to come back from. Then she remembers how much better he’s been at dealing with his episodes and hopes.
She thinks he’s been better. She hasn’t seen him but he’s smiling more. Then Sydney remembers his girlfriend and flecks of fire tingle in her gut.
Her mind recently figured out she was in love with Carmy.
Maybe less so nowadays, with the whole him being a shitty partner thing, but she still considered it love. She thinks.
Looking back, she thinks it happened when she came back. Found him and the crew covered in tomato sauce and rolls of money on the floor. He looked at her with too blue and too adoring eyes and she felt like she was home.
Love is different from how she cared for her dad or Marcus or anyone of her past boyfriends. She loved him like she loved to cook. With all the passion and near obsession and attention she placed in only new recipes. Cooking only led her to pain and failure and fire and he’ll do the same.
And he had pretty hair and a smooth voice when he wasn’t yelling and helped her make her risotto perfect. She fell more everyday. She was mad and disappointed in him, sure, but also at herself for still loving him.
So yeah, love sounds about right.
Normal, non-dying Sydney who could feel her lips would freak out about that. Punishing herself for falling for a coworker. Feeling guilty about his…girlfriend? Friend who is a girl who he is clearly fucking and blowing off everyone else for? She was nice, the one time they met, pretty and probably funny. Just because it made sense and she couldn’t have him either way didn’t make it hurt less.
Her mind also worked out, she forgot to tell Sugar the interior decorator rescheduled.
And that she never told her dad the one time in sixth grade she stole a twenty from his wallet.
Fuck. Was she old enough to have told her mom she loved her?
She saw tears drip onto the floor. Couldn’t feel them on her cheeks. She kept watching them drip.
Sydney stopped crying eventually.
At some point she had started laughing again. She forgot why.
She forgot how long to braise pork shoulder.
She started to hear her mom’s voice. Through memories. Then as if she were sitting next to her.
Sydney ignored her as long as she could. Telling her she wasn’t real.
Then Sydney apologized for that and for all the wrong she did. All the bad choices. All the stupid failures.
Her mom stopped replying but she still sat with her, wrapping her arms around Sydney like she would never leave.
Then she did leave. It’s okay. Sydney’s eyes were heavy.
Sugar looked forward to the morning. They were hopeful in nature. You had the whole day to get everything done.
Pete, for all his positivity, was not a morning person. He only ever woke up early for work or when she was having morning sickness, getting her water and patting her back. Also her mom tended to have better moods in the morning, allowing her to watch her make breakfast and even smiling.
“A thousand dollars, Sug! Motherfucker tried to scam me out of a goddamn G in this economy. Luckily, I knew some guys from the old neighborhood–” Sugar started to tune Richie’s wild story of how he secured Taylor Swift tickets for him and his daughter.
While she admired the devotion to his kid and his new found determination to come in early with her recently, she also had swollen ankles, the remnants of a migraine and thousand calls to make today. She also fired off a few texts to Carm, hoping he’ll approve the shit she sent days ago.
Deep breaths.
Sugar saw Sydney's bag as soon as she entered the kitchen. But no Sydney.
She thought of a million possibilities before seeing the broken fridge handle the ground.
She clutched her stomach while she bent down to pick it up, annoyed that Carm still hasn’t called the guy yet.
Sugar had no reason to worry. But then she got a feeling. The same kind of feeling when she knew she was knocked up before taking any test, when she could feel her mom having a bad day before she even came home from school, when Mike…when he was gone.
She called Sydney. Nothing.
She found Syd’s emergency contact and phoned her dad until he answered. He was shocked to find she never came home. She rudely hung up before saying goodbye.
Richie came to sound before she realized she was yelling for him.