Memories are stored not in our brains, but in our taste buds, in our ears, in our noses, in our hearts. That's why when you think back you see mistakes, but when you hear an old song, taste a childhood treat, smell an old perfume you don't see mistakes, you feel old happiness, bittersweet and beautiful.

Reginald "Gene" Jones remembered the first time he saw her. She never had a smile on her face, a perpetual scowl at all of her surroundings. A scoff at the sounds of peoples talking around her. Just an aura of unhappiness around her. He wanted to make her smile. That was his first thought as he watched her walk in to the culinary class, chefs coat haphazardly buttoned, and scuffed up boots trekking in a light trail of mud. She took the station with out a partner, next to his, but alone, and made no effort to speak with those around her. He watched as she soaked up all the instructors directions, never taking notes but watching with undivided attention, watched even more as she began her prep work, how in that brief moment of dicing and weighing, that aura of anger melted like the butter for t his bechamel melted in his own pan. Watched as the instructor used her work as the example of what not to do. He wanted to make her smile.

For two months his attention was split by the french cuisine, and the angry women to the left of his station. How when she seemed to relax only when she was cooking, never smiling, but just, existing. He thought to himself how he could approach her, ask her for a spare onion, offer some help when the instructor was being especially harsh, but he didn't dare broach on her moment. Today they would be making Coq au vin with crusty french bread. The secret to good french bread was steam and HIGH heat. He was just sliding his loaf into the oven when he heard her next to him, crying out as if burnt. Gene quickly turned to give aid, looking to see her grasping her neck.

"Are you okay?" Gene grabbed the loaf from her other hand, placing it in the oven for her. She pulled at the gold necklace on her neck, snapping it off with little care. A bright red mark on her neck, spelling out 'BITCH' in elegant script. Gene couldn't help it, he laughed. He laughed at her confused face, at the confused faces of his fellow students. His laughter grew more when SHE started to chuckle. It was deep and rich, and it sent a shiver down his spine. The moment was cut short when the instructor took the oportunity to use her as an example as to why you don't wear jewelry, especially gold in a kitchen. He went through the motions for the rest of the day. Keeping in mind how she didn't smile, but the grin seemed to ease the harshness around her eyes. When the day was done, he sought her out. He saw her standing at a bus stop, picking the dough out of her nails.

"Hey." She looked up. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"I'm Gene."

"Alexandria."

"You waiting for the bus?" He wanted to slap his forehead at the question. Even more so with her raised brow.

"No, I'm waiting for the mothership. I have been collecting data on this species and need to give my report." It was said said so deadpan, so monotone, it took a moment for him to really process her words. When it dawned on him, he began laughing again.

"Well I hope all the anal probing you did on cows can help us have better beef stocks."

"Beef tounge and roasted bones, even the Martians know that."

"Let me guess, you're from Venus?" She chuckled.

"No, Uranus." Gene knew, in his heart of hearts, he would do anything to hear her laugh again.

Weeks later, Gene and Alexandria had fallen into a wonderful routine. His prepwork was quick and efficient, her knowhow on recipes made them a force to be reckoned with. They were usually the first done, and had been earning high marks with the instructor. It threw the other students off, how well they worked together. He realized how different they were. Yet he couldn't help but think to himself, that if they looked past the scowl, they would see just how wonderful she was. It was their day the clean dishes. All students were expected to clean their own stations, but dishes was on a daily rotation. Alexandria was gathering up the last of the baking pans, hand covered in flour, while his were elbow deep in near scalding water. When she was close enough Gene flicked some water at her. An annoyed grunt passed her lips, she tossed the pans in the next sink over.

"Gene, don't do that." Gene smiled.

"What this?" He repeated the action, flinging some soap foam at her face, some landing in her mouth. She spat into the sink, running the water to clear it out, before slipping her hand along a bowl covered in flour and flicking it towards his own face, "Oh hell no, I just had wash day on my hair." She laughed at his distress, that same shiver running up his spine.

"Come on, you work in a hot ass kitchen, you'll shower tonight anyway." She gently pat his face, leaving a white hand print on his dark cheek. He swiped his hand across the top of the water in the sink, splashing her.

"Girl, don't make me declare war!"

"Boy, you already did." Gene would never forget that day. How she smiled so easily as she through leftover flour and he water. By the time the janitor came in to mop the floors, Gene and Alexandria had effectively covered each other in soapy dough, laughing as they slid on the floor despite their nonslip shoes.

They had decided to move together. She was couch hopping, he didn't like it. He had a spare guest room. Really it was his computer/storage room, but you'd be surprised at how one can become a Tetris master when trying to make space for someone. She didn't bring much, two duffle bags, a backpack, a wallet. When he asked her if she needed help with the rest, she handed him her phone, saying it was too cumbersome to move. He realized her humor now. Dry and self depricating, and used to avoid subjects she wasn't comfortable with. He didn't question it, just made a big show pantomiming how heavy it was, how his arms were going to be sore in the morning.

They settled into a roommate routine, just as easily as they had in the kitchen. They would carpool to school, go to his apartment, help each other cook (more often than not they would order out), settle in to play some games, then bid each other goodnight. It was a few months later when he finally got the courage to ask her on proper date. an unusual one.

"You want to what?" Her arms were crossed, he knew it wasn't from anger, her body language was almost always closed off, even if she herself wasn't.

"I wanna open a restaurant. Here. Well I hope here, you seem to like it well enough." He toyed with one of his dreads, making a big show of not looking her in the eyes.

"Gene, why would I have any say in your restaurant. You're not even done with school yet."

"I know I'm not done, but I think we could really do well together."

"You want US to open a restaurant. You and me?" Her arms dropped to he side, a show of disbelief. "Gene, I don't know the first thing about running a business."

"My Auntie runs a salon, she's already said she'd teach us."

"Us again. Gene why would you even think I would agree?"

"You would hate working under someone in a kitchen. You're bossy, and you don't like being ordered around, I figured we could team up. The kitchen would be your to control." Gene stepped closer, placing his hands on her shoulders. "We make such a good team already, we'd get real world experience, and I can't do this without you."

"Gene you could do a lot better than m-" He kissed her. He knew she was self-deprecating, and he wouldn't allow her to speak so lowly of her. She tasted like cigarettes and syrup. When he pulled away, she looked scared. over the course of half a year, he had seen so many expressions hidden under that scowl, but never scared. "I'm sorry." Gene pulled away. She fisted his shirt.

"This place needs a lot of work, furniture, capitol." She tugged him closer, brow furrowing.

"Cousin's a contractor, we can go to thrift shops, and I can get a loan." he stepped back towards her, placing his hands on her hips.

"I'm bossy, and angry. I'm hard to deal with and I'm a bitch."

"You know what you want. You're precise." Gene rested his forehead against hers. "We make a great team. I want to a chance to play."

"I don't know the rules."

"I can teach you."

She kissed him.

She named it Hodge-Podge. It was their little piece of heaven, a year in the making. Nothing matched. None of the tables, or chairs, or lights. The artwork was posters of action movies, prints of classic work, anime wall scrolls (that one still surprised him when she begrudgingly admitted to liking some girly looking one called Host Club), and video game maps and posters. The radio played swing, 90's rap, heavy metal, pop. Even the floor was just swirls of paint when they couldn't decide if the wanted to do blue or green. They decided on both. Everything was a mix of them. The menu his family's recipes for soul food (she loved greens) and her recipes inspired by Korean Barbeque.

Students from Metropolis University and MCI (Metropolis Culinary Institute) flocked to their fellow classmates restaurant. I became a well known haunt to many youths to relax and eat. Many staying until the late hours of the night, eating and drinking and laughing. Gene made many wonderful friends that way. He even managed to get his girlfriend in on the fun when one night he rented a karaoke machine and she sang What's New Pussycat seven times in a row, just to mess with him.

Gene managed to pay off the loan a year later, and some of his own student loans as well, when Alexandria refused his offer to pay her own. Her independence (pride) couldn't take it. He backed off, new plans for the money forming in his mind. Holidays came and went. He went all out for every one. Dressing up, acting like a fool, and she would scoff and claim he was being childish, but she would smile. She would always smile for him. When they were together, that scowl would disappear and it would leave him breathless.

When he convinced her to meet his family, she was still touchy. She didn't have family, she said. Didn't know what to expect. His niece loved her. Loved playing with her hair, so different from the little girls own. She sat there, patiently as the girl tried to braid it, all the while his family giving her plate after plate of food. All of which she took and ate happily. His grandmother was especially delighted when she ate the gizzard gravy and asked for more when his brother gave it to her, hoping it would gross her out.

When his Ma offered to host her family for a visit, she declined, saying her family was in Canada, and they didn't travel much. When he got on the interstate, she sobbed into her hands. She told Gene that her foster parents were buried there. They stayed the night at a motel, just so he could console her, hold her tight while she cried for the first time in a very long time.

"How the hell did you lose the drop?!" Alexandria rampaged in the apartment. "That's two GRAND! Rent! Food! Supplies!" Gene stayed out of her way, as she tore the couch apart looking for the little envelope.

"Look. I'm gonna go and check Hodge-Podge, maybe I left it there." Gene grabbed his keys and made his way to the door. "I'll call you if I find something." He left, driving to their restaurant. Inside he worked quickly. Pushed tables aside, pulled out dough already made and shaped it, tossing it in the oven. Made as quick work as he could on the Coq au Vin. Changed into a maroon suit he borrowed from his brother. Called her. Told her that he found the drop but something had happened at Hodge-Podge. She was there five minutes after he plated their meals, lighting candles.

"What is this?" She looked skeptical, hesitant.

"This, my Space Cowgirl , is the meal the day we first met. Well, talked." She walked closer, sweat from nerves dotted her forehead. She smacked his arm, letting out a relieved sigh.

"Dude. You scared me!" She gave a weak laugh as she sat in the chair he pulled out for her. Gene took his seat across from her "Alright, Afro Samurai, what's the occasion? Is it my birthday?"

"No that's next week." He wasn't surprised she forgot, she never celebrated her birthday. "It's our anniversary." He smiled as she winced.

"Oh Gene, I'm sorry, I didn-" He cut her off by shoving bread into her mouth.

"I know, don't worry. It's not something you pay attention to. It's okay. You make the most of everyday, you don't idolize any one in particular. That's fine, I love you regardless." She blushed. She always blushed when he said he loved her. She wasn't the type for mushy confessions of feeling. She preferred to show, not tell.

They ate dinner, laughing and smiling with each other as only they did for each other. Two years later and he still got chills from her deep throaty laugh. Her cocky grin that was her smile, until he said just the right joke, causing her lips to nearly split her her face in two, teeth shining inspite of her smoking habits. A particularly rauchy joke had her throwing a piece of her own bread at him. He retaliated by throwing a spoon just to the left of her.

"Hey! We can't afford to lose more silverwear!" She left her chair, turned her back, to retrieve the spoon. When she turned again, Gene was kneeling on the blue and green swirled floor. "Gene?"

"Lexie."

"What are you doing?"

"Changing the rules of the game." He pulled a little box from his suits coat. "We make a great team. I want to solidify the roster before next season." She laughed, tears in her eyes as he opened the box. It was simple, she was too. But even simple things can shine beautifully when given the right lighting.

"Gene, I-" She pulled in a deep shuddering breathe. "I'm bossy, and angry. I'm hard to deal with and I'm a bitch."

"You know what you want. You're precise." Gene kept direct eye contact, "You're beautiful, you're funny, you're the damn best cook I know. You make me happy."

"You make me happy, too." She mumbled under her breathe, as if she was afraid to admit it.

"Then let me make you happy forever." He slipped the ring on her finger, and was thankful he closed the blinds to the restaurant. They would have to bleach the table they were on.

...

They ended up just throwing out the table afterwards.

Gene knew the phrase rose-coloured glasses, but he never really knew what it meant until a year later.

"What?" He sat on their couch, disbelieving.

"I don't... You love me more than I love you."

"But you love me." He pointed out.

"I do, just not enough to give you the life you want. You want to make me happy forever, but Gene," She grabbed his hands, she hand dough under her nails. "I wouldn't be happy knowing that I wasn't giving you exactly what you were giving me in return." She was crying. She only cried once.

"Please, don't do this. We can work this out."

"I already worked it out. Gene, I love you." Hearing her say it, with tears in her eyes made him happy. It made him hurt. "I want you to be just as happy you want to make me, but you won't with me. Eventually, you'll finally realize that."

"Don't." Go. Say that. Cry. Smile that sad, sad smile.

She left. Two duffle bags, a backpack, a wallet. A too heavy phone.

He stayed on his couch, a simple ring in his hands.

She transferred classes. He tried to talk to her, but she seemed two steps ahead of him. She had hired one of the graduates from the previous year for the restaurant to take her place. She carpooled with someone, avoided taking the bus. Then she disappeared altogether. He only knew because A mutual friend had told him. She packed up and left.

Gene texted her number. He never got a response but that was okay, he just wanted her to have one last thing.

'Hodge-Podge is yours.'

It took Gene a year to be okay. Her graduated a year later. He applied for a position at one of Luthor's many restaurants. Got hired on. Worked his way up. He never set foot in his old restaurant. It had been closed down, food stores emptied, but everything else was still there. It was hers anyway. He knew it wasn't healthy, that he should get closure, but having it locked away was good enough.

He made a name for himself in Metropolis. He was often requested by the big man himself whenever Luthor came in to dine with his many dates, business or pleasure.

It took him another year to be happy again. Who knew heartbreak was so...

He met a nice barista. She smiled easily, she laughed loudly. She was beautiful. She would always have his coffee ready when he showed up before his shift in the kitchen. She would put a little heart on the lid. She gave him a little bouqet of flowers when he mentioned the months before his birthday was coming up.

She made him happy.

He brought her lunch, food he'd made specifically for her.

She asked him to the movies.

He asked her to a concert.

She stopped by his apartment with canned soup and crackers when he got the flu.

He held her when she sobbed as her beloved dog had to be put down.

Two years later, she clung to his neck when she squealed out "Yes!"

One year later he cried by how beautiful she was in that white dress. How easily she smiled. How easily he smiled right along with her.

Two years he smiled as tears dripped down his cheeks at their beautiful daughter held against his chest. She was lighter than him, blue almond shaped eyes. Gene cuddled next to his wife, Noriko in a too small hospital bed. Both admiring their daughter.

"Have you a name for her, Mrs. Jones? Mr. Jones?" Noriko looked to her husband, and gave him a soft smile. She whispered a name in his ear, and he shook his head, disbelieving, at how... empathetic his wife was.

"Are you sure, Ko? It doesn't feel right, you know..." Noriko smiled.

"She was important to you. It's not a bad name." Gene gave a shuddering breathe. He had told his wife everything of course. It was important she knew. He didn't understand why, but he knew that for her to understand why he was sometimes hesitant in the beginnings of their relationship. He looked to his daughter, who was gazing up at him, silent. Smiling.

"I'm going to make you happy. You will always be happy with me..."

"Lexie?"