On The Run: Original Work From The Tumblr Author

Chapter Thirty-Six

I showed the address to him. He knew the city pretty well as he should. It was only a fifteen minute ride. He let me know his name was Simo, and that he'd be waiting in the car for me.

It was a cute little home. Constructed of brown colored adobe with sky blue accents for the windows and door. I walked up to the small metal fence and opened it in route to the front door. I gently knocked. The sounds of footsteps and voices of children were on the other side.

Guadelupe answered the door and flashed a bright smile.

"Oh, Paulo su Lisedi!" she called over her shoulder.

From where I stood I could see Rubio and Gabriella running back and forth.

"Venir en venir en que estamos muy contentos de verte," she motioned me to come inside, "long time since we see you last."

I walked in with a smile on my face, "Yes, the family has been going through a lot. But I didn't forget to come stop by," I giggled to loosen any awkward tension.

She smiled, "You eat?" She closed the door.

I nodded, "Yes, but I don't mind trying your food. I'm sure it's great."

"Ven," she motioned me to follow her as she walked into the kitchen.

Her house was adorable from what I seen so far. Nowhere near as extravagant as the place Sergio gave us, but it was definitely comfortable.

I walked in to see cooked ground beef on the stove. It was seasoned to perfection, I'm sure because it smelled amazing. She had what looked to be perfect, flat circles of rolled out dough.

"What are you making?"

"Empanada," she smiled, "You had before?" She walked to the pantry.

I stood by the counter, "Yes, I love them, actually."

She nodded, picking up a bottle of cooking oil. She poured it into a pan, filling it up almost half way, before putting it back into the pantry. She kept the fire off, for now. "Do you want to learn to cook them?"

I nodded, "Oh, I'd love to."

She smiled, "Mira," she took one of the circles of dough, and laid it flat in front of her. She spooned some of the cooked ground beef in the middle, not too much. She proceeded to fold it in half, pressing on the edges. She used a fork to make the small lines along the ends.

My eyebrows were raised. I was shocked at how easy this was. I thought this was a longer process, but to my surprise, it wasn't.

"Like that," her smile never left her face as she turned on the stove, to heat up the oil, "You want to try?"

"Yes, please," I smiled politely.

She placed the empanada she just prepared on a plate. She put a disk of dough in front of me, and one in front of herself. She handed me a fork and a spoon. And I followed everything she did. Fill, fold, press, and then design with a fork.

We repeated it again until she felt like it was time to fry. She let me continue to prepare the empanadas, as she handled the frying, making sure both sides were a perfect golden brown.

"Where are the kids?" I asked as I pressed my fork onto the edge of the empanada.

"Outside, in the back. They're playing."

I smiled. I missed them a little. I adored kids, and loved their innocence. Couldn't wait to have my own one day, at the right time.

Just then I heard voices of two little kids come inside the house. I knew it was them.