The Other Side of My Kitchen

by Dazz L. Jackson

  I arrived at Cadenza’s on time and ready to cook because there had always been a friendly air of competition between us. Technically speaking, Cadenza was a better cook than I was when it came to preparing traditional dishes, be they French or Japanese. I on the other hand tended to have the edge when it came to transforming traditional into something new. Cadenza, unlike her parents and a few of her openminded friends, enjoyed my mutant creations. In fact, she once told me that eating my food was the most rebellious action that she has ever put her parents through.

  Cadenza greeted me at the door with a huge hug and a gentle kiss on the cheek before we took a seat at the bar. There we drank a few glasses of white wine while we caught up on what was going on in our lives since last we talked. And as expected, Cadenza life revolved around her work and her two teenaged boys. Her husband of ten years died unexpectedly in a car accident while on the way to the hospital when she was giving birth to their second son. That was a rough time in her life however with the help of family and friends, Cadenza fought her way through this ordeal only to become a much stronger person.

  “Cosi la via e buona io vede?”

  “Good as it’s going to get Cadenza.”

  “Vedo…so how’s that vivacious madre of yours

  Omari?”

  “Still vivacious as ever…how about your folks?” “My parents are buon e sano ringrazi il dio.” “That sounds about right.”

  “Thought you said you was going to learn how to

  speak my language.”

  “When it comes to food, I’ll take Italian over French

  any day.”

  “Here we go again.”

  “Hold on now, but doesn’t L’amour est comme farting

  dans un ascenseur serre sound better than, L amore e come

  farting in un elevatore ammucchiato.” I said with a silly grin

  on my face.

  “Only you could insult the French with such flair

  Omari.”

  “So who are we cooking for and what are we

  preparing?”

  “Rather excited aren’t we?”

  “This distraction is something of a welcome break,

  Cadenza.”

  “I see. Well Cece called me the other day asking if I

  would like to take on one of your gigs this evening seeing how

  you’re extremely over booked as of late.”

  “Really, I wonder why she didn’t tell me this.” “Because you’re too busy running here and there.” “You try and run two businesses, successfully I mind

  you.”

  “I love my social life too much to try and attempt

  something like that.”

  “Good point.”

  “I know we’re friends Omari, but this is business

  right?”

  “No doubt.”

  “Good, because if this is this going to be a problem…” “Oh no, it’s cool. But if you don’t mind me asking,

  seeing how this is business. What were the financial

  arrangements?”

  “My sixty, to your forty of course.”

  “That’s reasonable, so who are we cooking for?” “Are you familiar with Soup?”

  “French onion or beef Wonton?”

  “No silly.”

  “Believe it or not, I finally perfected that Duck

  Consommé that you taught me a while back.”

  “The jazz musician, you know the one with the crazy

  dreadlocks?”

  “Oh yeah, I know him. So what, you gotta a crush on

  the soup man or what?”

  “His number one fan if you must know,” she blushed

  without shame.

  “Are you finished?”

  “Yeah I’m done.”

  “Just out of curiosity, whose Soups manager?” “Some chick named Nique Carole, you know her?” “I do, why?”

  “She specifically asked if I could get you to make that

  fabulous Praline Bread Pudding seeing how Soup was born

  and raised in the…”

  “She asked for me by name huh?”

  “Sure did.”

  “Interesting, can’t believe his momma named him

  Soup though.”

  “Don’t go there, his music is out of this world Omari.” “This is starting to make sense now.”

  “First of all, I’m not a groupie, but I do enjoy the

  music. So it was sort of a no brain…”

  “It’s cool, so what on the menu?”

  “A five course special, plus all of the unnecessary

  trimmings thank you much.”

  “I’m feeling that, and will I be preparing anything else

  outside of the pudding?”

  “I could always use an extra pair of hands around

  here.”

  “I can do that for about sixty, fifty five.”

  “You dog, how about sixty, forty five?”

  “Deal,” I said before we immediately headed for the

  kitchen.

  Whenever Cadenza and I cooked together, not much was ever said outside of pass me the salt or would you please get the hell out of my way. Generally we cooked as if the lives of our families depended on our skill and creativity to save them from some unseen death sentence. However this little adventure of ours was a little different because Cadenza kept inquiring about my relationship with Nique. In the beginning, I played hard to get until we struck a deal. The deal went like this, I would tell her what she wanted know, if I could smoke and listen to my music while we cooked. A few minutes later, a Notorious B.I.G. remix played in the background before I finally spilled the beans. Of course Cadenza found the whole affair sad and simple; nevertheless, she still gave me her

  opinion on what was what.

  “First of all, I don’t think she’s pregnant Omari.” “How you figure that?”

  “I don’t know this lady all that well okay, but she

  doesn’t have that glow to me. You’re a father of two; do you

  think she’s pregnant?”

  “She said she was. I mean why would she lie about

  something like that?”

  “Maybe she wasn’t.”

  “You’ve lost me.”

  “Her little friend was probably running a little late,

  and she probably panicked. She is a professional woman

  Omari, which means having a baby is a real big deal.” “Why do women think having a baby is a one person

  deal? It takes two right, I mean, when Olivia was pregnant

  with the twins, lord knows I couldn’t do anything right.” “Imagine you a clutch,” Cadenza chuckled. “I didn’t know if I was coming or going half the time. I

  swear men get a bad rap when it comes to having babies. It’s

  like we don’t exist and shit. But as far as Nique being pregnant,

  look if she is, she is. If she isn’t, oh well.”

  “On a lighter note, my father is looking for an assistant

  chef to help him and my mother on an upcoming book tour to

  promote their new cook book.”

  “Wow, you know I really love those rubber coated

  cook books.”

  “I know.”

  “Damn, that would be a really cool experience. Is it

  going to go down like their last book tour?”

  “Indeed. In fact they’re going to open a brand new

  restaurant in New Zealand during the tour.”

  “Cooking demonstrations out the ass huh?” “Half of them are going to be seen on the Food

  Network.”

  “That’s gotta be the icing on the cake.”

  “I knew you’d say that, which is why I told him you

  might be interested.”

  “How long?”

  “About six months.”

  “Really?”

  “I think so. Do you want me to officially throw your

  name in the hat
or what?”

  The idea of working with a world-renowned chef was

  something every unknown chef dreamt of. He or she could

  learn all the little things while gaining a tremendous amount of

  exposure. I myself could not have asked for a better

  opportunity, but who would oversee my businesses while I

  was gone? Cece, yeah she could handle it all for about a month

  or two, after that her duties to her husband, children, and their

  growing church would become a little too much for anybody to

  bear. I thought long and hard about this until I realized that I

  had never won anything in my life. So why would this be any

  different?

  “Sure, why not. Add my name. It isn’t like I have a

  chance in hell of winning.”

  I have always been a creature of habit, and one of those habits is being on time for anything that I made a commitment to. My date with September wasn’t going to be one of those times, because I sort of got a little caught up at Cadenza’s. It must had been the wine and food, because when I realized how late I was going to be, I called September to tell her that I was going to be crazy late. And like a true Brit, she politely informed me that our lunch wasn’t going to happen because she had to be

  inside her classroom teaching by the time I reached her school. Slightly disappointed by this, but not put off, I offered

  to take her to dinner after work. To my surprise she agreed,

  and said that she would be ready for me around four that

  afternoon. This was a good thing because it allowed me to

  spend a little more time with my friend until it came time for

  me to meet up with September.

  A couple of hours later I was deep in the hood looking

  for September’s school when I finally discovered the ancient

  building sitting next to a rapidly sinking community. I was

  born and raised in a much tougher and dirtier place than this

  one. The hood is the hood, no matter where it is, so I

  immediately felt at home with the people and the overly

  attentive police. After parking in the schools principal’s

  parking space, I jumped out of my truck and tried to reach

  September on her cell phone. She never answered, so I entered

  the school through an unguarded and unlocked side door.

  Feeling like a cat burglar, I made my way deeper into the

  school until I ran into of couple boys who had to belong to the

  schools basketball team because they all stood over the six foot

  mark. I gave them my best street greeting before I asked them

  where I could find September. They were clueless about who I

  was talking about because in that place of learning and

  discovery, September wasn’t known by that name. She was

  that bomb-ass teacher that taught history with a phat ass

  accent.

  I gave my fellow young giants some love before I

  followed their directions to September’s classroom. After

  getting lost at least five times, I finally located her classroom

  and was about to enter when I discovered September counseling the cutest chocolate colored little girl. From afar, I could tell that the little girl had been crying and from where I stood she appeared frighten. The father in me instantly felt a sense of concern, however my concerns were held in check by

  the way September was talking to the distraught girl. Her voice was small, but strong. Her eyes were

  extremely focused, but caring while her body language

  expressed love. So much so, I even felt safe. I decided to stay

  put so that I could see and feel something I hadn’t since I was a

  child. The love and admiration of a real honest to God

  schoolteacher. Professor Rice was more of a father and a

  mentor, whereas September was acting likes my mother,

  grandmother and Mrs. Taylor from down the street. Eventually the little girl settled down before they both

  started to smile and giggle the way little girls only know how

  to do. Feeling moved, a part of me didn’t want to disturb them

  but before I could make that decision, September and the little

  girl stood up and headed my way.

  “Hey, Omari.”

  “Ms September.”

  “Ms what…anyway…I see you found me.”

  I was so impressed with September I couldn’t even

  talk. Instead, I just nodded my head yes before the little girl

  spoke up for me.

  “Man, I thought I was confused looking.”

  September chuckled out something before she hushed

  the girl away with, “Go on home Teana and do your

  homework.”

  “I’m leaving, I’m leaving,” Teana giggled before she

  disappeared down the empty hallway.

  “You’re a father aren’t you Omari. In fact you have a

  little girl don’t you?”

  “Is it that obvious?”

  “Your secret is safe with me.”

  Once again September’s extreme command of the air

  that surrounded her warmed me like nothing I have ever felt

  before. This scared me just as it had the first time I saw her. I

  took a step back and checked myself to see what was going on inside my head, and was disappointed that I didn’t discover anything worth keeping. It was like trying to enjoy a Prince tune before actually experiencing sex for the first

  time…nothing.

  “I’m sorry about being late earlier. Sort of got caught

  up, but I’m here now. So where do you want to go and eat?” “I was raised off of fish and chips, anywhere will do.” I don’t know how it happened, but September’s whole

  demeanor suddenly changed. She was no longer that cheerful

  addictive person. Instead, she appeared distant and weary. “What time do you hafta be at the recreational center

  September?” I asked her in attempt to gauge her mental status. September eyes found mines before they tried to tell

  me a story, but I didn’t give them a chance because I looked

  away.

  “I’m scheduled to be there at six, why?”

  “Are you okay?”

  She allowed a weak smile to form before she replied,

  “I’m fine. Are we still going to dinner?”

  “Dinner isn’t going anywhere. Are you okay?” Suddenly, September appeared as if trouble wasn’t far

  away. I knew the feeling, and the symptoms. She was still

  hurting, and badly, because she hadn’t shared or dealt with the

  pain of being betrayed.

  “You know, I haven’t seen the inside of a public school

  in years. Mind showing me around?”

  “Why?”

  “I thought it would be cool.”

  “This is about Greg isn’t it?”

  “Not anymore it’s not,” I said with a serious stare. September’s intuitiveness wasn’t set on bypass. In

  other words she knew that I had sensed her pain. She also

  realized that I was giving her the opportunity to share it. That

  gaping wound that was her heart had to heal before it bled out.

  There was a slight moment of hesitation before our eyes found

  each other. Something proper and well timed should have been

  said, but my heart wasn’t in it, nor was September’s. A couple of minutes later we left her classroom in silence and headed

  down the hallway going nowhere particular.

  “I live my life for these kids, you know, my life,” she

  replied with passion and purpose. “When I first came here, I

  gave them every once of my soul until Greg de
manded a

  piece.”

  “Some of us have that skill.”

  “And what bloody skill is that Omari?”

  “The ability to tunnel our way into places we shouldn’t

  be sometimes.”

  “Say, like a rat?”

  “I would prefer a more palatable comparison, but I

  guess that one would do for now.”

  September shook her head in disgust before she

  continued, “I stood by that sorry ass man when nobody else

  would.”

  “I understand.”

  “Do you understand that I believed in him, and to be

  honest with you, I think I still do.”

  “I see.”

  “No you don’t.”

  “Maybe I can’t fully understand what you’re feeling,

  but I think I have a pretty good idea September. Wanna try

  me?”

  “Are we’re going to have a heartbreak convention

  now? Is this where we compare notes on how it feels to be

  dogged the fuck out?”

  September’s sudden burst of anger caught me off

  guard; I pulled back a little so not irritate her any more than I

  had.

  “I’m sorry if I…”

  “Damn Omari, I gave him everything. And what did I

  get in return, a bloody heartache.”

  Instead of responding to that, I decided not to say

  anything; I just listened as her eyes closed not out of heartache,

  but out of disappointment.

  “You know I can’t help thinking if I wasn’t woman

  enough for him. Maybe I was to damn controlling in some absurd way. I mean, I just don’t know what I did wrong

  Omari.”

  Even though September was giving me the

  opportunity to speak, life lessons had taught me that there was

  more that needed to be said. I nodded my head in a

  sympathetic fashion before I gave her a look that said it was

  okay for her to ramble on. As a result September allowed a