Anna said, “A real chocolate cake. I can’t believe it. It has real chocolate in it.”
“What did you think was in chocolate cake?” Momma raised an eyebrow.
“I don’t know. I mean, I always had mix cakes.”
Momma shook her head with her for shame-for-shame look. Petey loved to see that.
When the groceries were put away, Petey asked, “Can I help?”
“Yes, you may help.” Momma turned to Hill. “What about you?”
“I don’t wanna cook the food. I like to tear it up with my teeth, grrrrrr! Then I swallow it and it goes in my stomach and then to my in-test-TINES! And then—”
“That’s enough, Hill.” Momma said.
Hill pawed the ground with his foot.
Petey had always said the same thing as Hill said about only wanting to eat what Momma made, but Petey thought of Anna and her own momma, how they were going to cook together and never had the chance. Petey had a chance so she would take it.
“You can make some coffee first, Petey. Okay?”
“Okay, Momma.”
“Hill, open up all the windows; turn on the fans. Let’s get some air circulating.”
Hill charged round the house to shove up windows, turn on fans.
Petey cut on the fire to start the water to boil for coffee. The sound of cookbook pages turning as Anna called out things that sounded interesting to her, Momma’s apron, Momma setting out ingredients on the counter, smell of the coffee as it began to brew, Hill yipping with excitement, a breeze whirled through—all of it, everything—made Petey feel so full of hope and joy, she could have danced around the room in full swing.
She ran into the bathroom and gazed into the mirror for the count of ten. Only she and the pickle bathroom looked back at her. The smell of lilacs and spice were there. Maybe Anna’s tea had magic like Momma’s baking. Maybe Anna put her heart into picking out her teas and that was helping Momma. Or maybe it was Momma saving and helping Anna. Thoughts swirled all around Petey’s head and she realized she was still staring into the mirror and nothing scary was in the mirror with her. She ran back to the kitchen so she wouldn’t miss anything.
Momma and Anna stood shoulder to shoulder as Momma showed her how to wash the chicken to prepare to cut it up. Anna watched as Momma patted the chicken to dry it off, then as she took her sharp knife and cut off one of the legs and then cut between the thigh and drumstick. She handed the knife to Anna. “Now you try it.”
Anna’s tongue stuck out a little as she cut into the leg.
“Be careful. That’s a sharp knife. Just sort of wiggle the leg a bit if it gets stubborn. Don’t lean so hard into it; let the knife and your hand work together. Your body should be more relaxed.”
When Anna cut the leg and then the thigh and drumstick, she let out a “Whoop!”
Momma laughed.
Momma laughed . . . laughed. She laughed.
Petey poured Momma and Anna a cup of coffee, then asked, “What can I do?” More than anything she wanted to be a part of it all.
“Pour flour into that pan,” Momma pointed to the square pan, “and then into that other pan,” she pointed to the round pan, “pour the milk I’ve measured out, add that egg, then whip them together.” She said to Petey, “All right?”
“Yes Ma’am. I’ve seen you do it before. I can do it.”
“I know you can.” Momma turned back to the chicken. She and Anna finished cutting it into pieces and started on the other chicken. Then Momma put the pieces into a big bowl. “Now, I’m going to cover these chicken parts in buttermilk. You bought buttermilk, didn’t you, Petey?”
Petey ran to the refrigerator. “It’s right here.” She held the buttermilk as if it were filled with gold nuggets.
Momma nodded. Then to Anna, “First we’ll salt and pepper.” Momma let Anna salt and pepper the chicken. Momma then said, “And we’ll add a little paprika.” She massaged the chicken. “Okay, Anna, pour the buttermilk to cover the chicken.” Anna poured.
Meanwhile, Petey had finished her job of putting the flour into the square pan, and the milk and egg into the round pan. She had whisked the milk and egg together. She waited for her next job.
“It’s important to keep your hands washed and wipe everything off with soap and water when handling meats,” Momma said as they washed. She then showed Anna how to season the flour mixture with salt, pepper, garlic and onion powder. She put a dash of hot sauce in the milk and egg, and told Anna, “Little touches make a big difference. You don’t want to over do any one spice, or have too many, simple in some things is best.”
Anna wrote notes in a pad, face turned serious.
While the chicken sat in the buttermilk, Momma took out the frozen green beans since there were no fresh, and then peeled potatoes. Anna peeled beside her. Anna had a potato peeler; Momma used a paring knife. Her peelings were as thin, or maybe even thinner, than Anna’s. As they peeled and cut the potatoes, they put the chunks into a pot of water to be boiled.
“Momma, what can I do?” Petey asked. She was near-abouts to have a fit just standing there.
“Clip my chocolate cake recipe to the holder.” Momma said to Anna, “That recipe has been in my family for . . . well, for so long, no one knows where it first made itself appear.”
Anna could only say, “Wow.”
“And Petey, I think you can gather the ingredients for the cake. Start measuring them out?”
Momma had never let her do that. She nodded her silly idiot head, as if a cat got her tongue for sure and carried it off to Timbuktu.
“Remember, when baking we have to be particular. We can be more free and loose with some cooking, but not with baking if we want it to turn out just right. So measure careful and exact.”
Anna scribbled more notes. Petey gathered ingredients.
“And it’s best to measure out all your ingredients first. I once was going to bake a cake for my daddy’s birthday and got my dry ingredients sifted, and then found out I didn’t have any chocolate bar and only one egg!” Momma shook her head. “I likened to have thrown a fit I was so mad at myself. Couldn’t get to the store, we lived a piece from it.” Shaking that head again. “I learnt my lesson.”
Petey wanted to hear more stories. She’d never thought of Momma as having stories. She’d never seen Momma as a person before, but right then she was like a real person.
Anna wrote more notes, and then gazed at Momma as if Momma held all the stars in heaven on her head. Petey bet if she went to the mirror right then she’d have that look, too.
Momma showed them how much oil to put into the iron pot, and how to make sure the oil was hot enough by sticking the end of the wooden spoon into the oil and when it bubbled just so that meant the oil was ready. When it was time to fry the chicken in the hot oil, Momma showed Anna and Petey how to dredge a few pieces of chicken at a time and explained to fry only a few pieces at a time so the oil wouldn’t cool down. Momma put in the first piece of chicken, a thigh first, and then Anna put in a thigh. Momma let Petey put in a drumstick, only after making sure she knew to be careful so she’d not be splattered by hot grease.
The air filled with sounds of frying and the smells of chicken cooking. Petey inhaled all the way to the bottom of her lungs, and then some. Hill sniffed the air and panted like a hungry dog. Petey had almost forgotten he was there and couldn’t believe how quiet he’d been. She turned to him, grinning, and he grinned back, his teeth stuck full of the candy he was eating.
Momma held out her hand to Hill. “Give it.”
Hill whined.
“Now. You’ll ruint your supper.”
Hill handed Momma the candy bag and she put it on a high shelf. “You can have a little at a time, later.”
When all the chicken was near-abouts fried, it was time for mashing the
potatoes. Momma showed Petey and Anna the secret of putting the pot back on the fire to make sure all the water was out of the potatoes so they wouldn’t be mooshy. Anna then added lots of butter, salt and pepper, and the cream Momma had measured out for her.
Hill said, “Can I mash up those taters?”
Momma said, “Wash up first.”
“I already washed.”
“When?”
Hill shrugged.
“Wash your hands good, always, before you get to cooking. That’s a Rule you can’t ever break in my kitchen.”
Hill ran to wash his hands, and then came back to mash away. Afterwards, Momma would cover the chickens to keep them warm.
“Anna,” Momma said, “one of those chickens is for you and your fellow. Everything else we’re making is for our supper. You’ll be staying for supper.”
Anna said, “Yes Ma’am,” then smiled over at Petey.
Petey could have danced on her toes all the way to Egypt.
“And you can do all this I’ve showed you on your own, can’t you?”
“I think so,” Anna answered. “But if I need you, can I come get you?”
“Of course you can,” Momma said. “And that chicken, if you warm it up, be careful you don’t let it dry out.”
Anna nodded, scribbled something in her pad.
In a bit, as Anna sifted cake flour for the cake, Daddy walked through the door. He stood in the kitchen doorway with his mouth hanging open and his eyes popped wide. Hill ran to hug onto his legs.
“What in the world . . .?”
Petey said to him, “We’re cooking, Daddy. We’re helping Anna so she can cook for her date.”
“What in the world . . .?” Daddy said again.
Momma talked as if things had never changed. As if she hadn’t spent all those months fading away. “Go wash up. We’re having fried chicken, mashed potatoes, green beans—oh! I forgot the biscuits!” She tightened her apron. “And if you’re really hungry, I’ll bake an extra cake once I show Anna here how to do one proper.”
Daddy went straight to Momma in two long strides across the kitchen. He plopped a big kiss right on her lips, leaning her backwards, not even caring that we all were there to see it.
Anna laughed her laugh.
Hill barked two happy barks, then said, “Look at Daddy!”
Petey’s toe dance went past Egypt and all the way to Saturn’s rings where she went round and round, dizzy round.
Daddy turned, still holding onto Momma, and said, “So, this is Anna from downstairs.”
Anna said, that pinky blush on her cheeks, “Nice to meet you properly.”
“It’s surely nice to meet you, too.” Daddy let loose of Momma and went to the back. Petey heard the water running, and whistling. The sounds of water running, whistling, the kitchen sounds, made Petey hiccup with happy. Normal sounds. Good ole normal smells and normal sounds.
While Anna’s cake baked (and Petey’s mouth watered so much she thought she’d drool on her chin), they all sat down to eat: Momma, Daddy, Hill, Petey, and Anna. There wasn’t much talking, but a whole lot of chewing and mmm mmm this is good. Even Momma managed to eat more than she had been.
Momma tapped her lips with her napkin, then asked Anna, “Now, are you going to call that young man back and re-set that date?”
“Yes. I will.” Anna then said, “I’d like him to meet you, Miss Beth.” She looked around the table. “I’d like him to meet all y’all.”
“Well,” Momma said, “We’ll have him to dinner . . . later, not until after your date.”
Right then, it felt as if Anna was her sister, that they were all a big family.
When supper was over, and the cake cooled, Momma showed Anna how to frost it so crumbs didn’t mash in with the frosting. “Now, first you brush off all the crumbs on your cooled cake.” Momma brushed the crumbs away with a pastry brush. “Next put a thin layer of frosting on.” She layered on a thin layer of frosting. “We’ll let that make a seal in the ice-box, then when we frost it the rest of the way, there won’t be crumbs mixing in.”
Anna said, “I never thought of that!”
Petey felt proud of Momma. She stepped close, touched her on the hip, and Momma turned and smiled at her as she used to, with her eyes lit up and her cheeks puffed so cute with a dimple showing. In the heat of the kitchen, pieces of her palomino hair curled from its kerchief and sprung around her face.
When the kitchen was cleaned up and Anna’s cake iced, Momma wrapped up the fried chicken for Anna. She said, “You make those potatoes like I showed you, and along with the cake—Petey you carry down the cake for Anna—your man will flip. I’ll send down a piece of the next cake for you to taste after-while.”
“Thank you, Miss Beth.” Anna put her head into Momma’s shoulder.
Momma stroked Anna’s shiny hair. “There there, now. It’s okay.”
Petey stayed quiet as she could be. She was glad Hill and Daddy were outside and it was just the girls again.
Momma said, “Well, now. Time to get busy on that other cake. You two go on down, then.”
Anna picked up her chicken, and Petey picked up the chocolate cake. The cake was heavy, the way she remembered, except Petey knew it was moist and light in taste. As she headed out the door behind Anna, Momma was already measuring ingredients for their cake for dessert.
Downstairs in Anna’s kitchen, Petey put down the cake. Anna put the chicken in the refrigerator. She said, “I can’t believe your mom did all that for me.”
“That’s just Momma. It’s her way.” She didn’t say, that’s how Momma used to be and now she is again and it’s cause of you, Anna.
Hill called out, “Peeeeeeteeeeeey! Daddy says come here. Petey! Hurry up! Daddy says.”
Petey told Anna she’d see her later, and, “I hope you have a good date.”
“I hope so, too.” She shrugged. “But, if not, at least we’ll eat well.” She laughed her lovely laugh.
When Petey ran out to Hill and Daddy, Daddy was jingling his keys to his 1966 Ford Country Squire. “Come on, you two. Your momma needs some more things at the store.”
“We already got stuff from the store,” Hill said.
“She needs some other things. Quit bellyaching and come on.” Daddy’s words sounded like he was fussing, but his face and smile said he was glad about things.
Petey noticed in the back of the station wagon there were bags from the hardware store. She wondered what all Daddy’d bought and what all he’d be doing with the half-house.
Petey let Hill have the front seat and Petey took the back, and then they’d switch up on the way home. Daddy shot off for the grocery store. Once there, Petey and Hill helped Daddy find what all he had trouble with and soon their basket was filled. While waiting in line, Daddy jangled the change and keys in this pocket, and then sang, “Black Jack Davey came riding through the woods; and he sang so loud mmm-mmm!; made the hills round him . . . hills round him . . . mmmm-mmmm; and he charmed the heart of a lady; ohhhhhhh! He charmed the heart of that laaa-dy . . .”
When their groceries were loaded into the station wagon, Daddy sped home with all the windows open to the Texas night and bugs splatting the windshield.
Momma had on a clean apron, and there were things lined up on the counters, and their chocolate cake was in the oven. They all put up groceries, and then Momma said, “Now, I need all of you to skedaddle. Out. Fly away little birds. Leave me be for a while.”
Hill said, “How come? What’re you going to do? Why you want us to skee-dee-daddle?”
Petey wanted to ask the same thing. She thought she could help.
“Let your momma have some time, kids.” Daddy steered Petey and Hill to their room. “Won’t hurt you to stay in here a while. Read a book, or whatever you do.”
Momma called out, “Daddy’ll bring you some cake in a bit, but I don’t want to find crumbs everywhere and especially on the beds.”
Later, after they’d had their cake while sitting on the floor of their room, Hill climbed out of the window and onto the scraggly tree limb, shimmied down the tree, and without a sound ran around the yard flapping his arms—Petey knew because she watched him until she was bored.
Petey took The Incredible Journey from her nightstand, opened it at the page she’d put a bubble gum wrapper to hold her place. She was almost finished. The dogs and cat were almost home. Petey thought hard about the dogs and cat. How even though those animals had been far from their family, somehow they were finding their way to where they belonged. Their family was their home. She thought on that a long while. Chewed on it. Tasted it. Swallowed it. Let her stomach have at it. Let it get in her veins and fly around with her corpuscles (she loved the sound of that word, and the way it made her mouth move funny, cor-pus-cles).
After she and Hill had their baths and teethbrushing, she settled in with Anna’s mythology book, opening it as careful as she could. She read about Athena first. She liked how Athena was a girl warrior god, and had wisdom and justice. It was weird how Zeus swallowed Athena’s momma while she was pregnant with Athena, and Athena came right out the top of Zeus’s head. And how Athena never was even a baby, but was born grown with her armor on, ready to do battle.
When Petey woke late into the night, the book on her nightstand and the light off—Momma or Daddy must have come in to check on her—she lifted the room divider sheet to see Hill was asleep, his fist caught up under his chin and his covers tangled. The house was quiet and the air in the room smelled like Texas, dark and something sweet that wasn’t flowers. She put her ear to the floor. When she didn’t hear any violin music, she pictured Anna sleeping with a smile touching her lips. She tiptoed to the bathroom, but didn’t want to look into the mirror at night. After letting loose her bladder and then washing her hands, she forced herself to look up into the mirror once anyway, real quick, to be brave. It wasn’t too bad.
Petey sneaked down the hall. Her parents’ door was closed, and all was still. When she went into the kitchen, her eyes bugged out and she whispered what Daddy had said, “What in the world . . .?”
The Firefly Dance Page 9