Gumbo

by Tiana Laveen

  “Well, what’s your plan?”

  Maize ran his tongue against his lower lip. “Just tryna survive, man… that’s what I do best. I’ll make it somehow, some way. I ain’t gonna do no shit to get my ass locked up though. I value my freedom too much.”

  “Maize, think about your talents. You’re smart, you’re good at rapping and basketball, and you’re so in tune with the world, with what’s going on. You know what’s up around here, you understand people. Everyone likes you! You could use that to your advantage, like going into politics.”

  “Politics, huh? Ya thank so?” He laughed.

  “Yeah! I’m serious.”

  Maize seemed to be weighing that suggestion as he grinned.

  “Mayor Maize.” They both burst out laughing. “I do wanna better the community, you know? I’m okay being here. I just want it to improve. There’s some good folk here, man.”

  “I know, and you’re one of the best.” They looked at each for a while, then grabbed one another in an embrace. “Maize, this isn’t any gay shit, but I love you, man. You’re a brother to me, for real. You’ve helped me through some rough ass times. I appreciate you.”

  They released one another, but Tony held on to the guy’s hand for a moment.

  “I appreciate you too, Tony. You been the real deal. I know that was you that left that three hundred for me last month. Guess Cassidy told you about the eviction notice, huh?”

  “She did. I couldn’t let that happen, regardless of us not talking… nothing could ever keep us apart too long.”

  “That’s for real, man. They say blood is thicker than water, but you in my fuckin’ DNA, Tony… You, T.J., E.T., Donnovan, all y’all mothafuckas like family. I would have never believed that a goofy ass White kid from Jersey, would move here and grow up and turn out like you… and we’d be best friends, brothas, man. Back in the day, when you’d see one us, you’d see us all. School is over now, we’re doin’ our own thing, but we’ll always be boys.”

  “You know it. I’ll definitely keep in touch. All right, man, well, I better get going. Thanks for talking to me when I called you and said I wanted to squash this shit. I’m glad we can put the past behind us and just move on… because I missed my brother.”

  “I missed you too. You betta holla at a nigga be’foe y’all head out to Cali. Peace out.” Maize smiled and turned away to go back inside.

  “A! I almost forgot!” Tony said. Maize paused. “Grandmama is throwin’ me and Cass a going away party in her backyard next Saturday. Make sure you come through. Tell E.T. and everybody, okay?”

  “Fo’ sho. We’ll be there, man!”

  “Okay, bet.” Tony watched Maize go back into the apartment building. He smelled the man’s lingering ganja smoke floating about in the air and smiled.

  A real man admits his mistakes. An even better man makes those mistakes right…

  …Three days later

  Biz Markie’s ‘Just a Friend’ blasted from Tony’s car stereo as he enjoyed the night air with his windows down. ‘I Got it Made’ by Special Ed came on, he turned it up at high volume, bobbing his head to one of his favorite songs. His arm hanging out the window, he felt free, loose, like he didn’t have a worry in the world. The air was fragrant with smoked meats being cooked at all hours of the night. He sang the lyrics to the catchy tune and reflected over the past few weeks of his life.

  Things had been a whirlwind, in a good way. Dante was now living in a rehabilitation facility in Tampa, all on his own accord, believing outpatient was no longer enough after a recent relapse. His brother was up at least ten pounds since being there, and he was beginning to look like himself again. Tony was proud as hell of him.

  Mom appeared to be no longer in denial, but she still resisted on admitting how serious things were, claiming Dante’s was a phase with bad consequences. Nevertheless, she took the matter far more seriously than she had in a long ass time and had begun to research chemical dependency, bringing home a host of magazines and books in order to educate herself.

  “Yo, Pete Nice from 3rd Bass! Hey, Montana!” someone called out, waving as he drove past.

  “Hey, man!” he hollered back with a grin, though he wasn’t certain who it had been. As he drew closer to Fox street, which was about three minutes away from he and Cassidy’s house, he noticed an ambulance and two police cars.

  What the hell is goin’ on here?

  He turned off his radio and slowed down. A large crowd was gathered in the middle of the road and amongst them was a familiar face. Danica.

  What is she doing here? I thought she worked nights at the nursing home now. What the fuck is going on?

  Tony quickly pulled his car over to the curb and parked. When he hopped out and looked at the blood splattered street, his knees buckled.

  “NOOOOOOOOOOOOO!!!!” His heart banged like two snare drums crashing against one another as he shoved and pushed people aside to get through the crowd.

  “Tony!” Cassidy called out. He knew her voice, but didn’t see her. He dropped to his knees and grabbed Maize in his arms, his lifeless, limp body covered in dark red blood from the neck down to his waist. The young man’s eyes were wide open, glossed over as he stared straight up at the starlit sky, as if he was transfixed by the power of God.

  “MAN, DON’T PLAY WITH ME! MAIZE! MAIZE! STOP PLAYIN’! WAKE UP!” He shook Maize’s body, but his brother didn’t move. “SOMEBODY DO CPR! SOMEBODY HELP!”

  “Sir,” one of the EMT’s stated. “We already did CPR… I need you to let go so we can take him to the—”

  “Maize! I need you to wake up! Maize! Wake up, motherfucker!” He slapped Maize’s face over and over, the tears from his eyes flowing so fast he couldn’t see. “Maize! Maize! MAAAAIIIZZZEEEE!!!!”

  Tony cradled him to his chest as the hot tears kept pouring. Danica and Cassidy held each other as they stood by him, balling their eyes out. Before he knew it, the man was taken from his grasp while people screamed all around him, crying, falling to pieces. The glow of the red lights, the loudness of the sirens made him feel tipsy, drugged, hung over… Nothing was real. He lifted his head and made eye contact with Maize’s mother. She stood there like a zombie… blood covering her white blouse.

  “He’s not dead… he’ll be okay! He’ll be okay, everybody!” His voice cracked as he got back to his feet, looking around, falling apart inside.

  “Tony,” Danica said his name delicately, as if afraid to speak. “He’s gone, Tony…” The woman turned away and shook her head.

  He watched as the EMT placed Maize’s body on the gurney, covered him with a white sheet, and loaded him into the ambulance. When the vehicle took off, Cassidy crashed into him and fell to pieces in his arms. He hugged her tight. Maybe if she gave him enough love right then, this would all go away? Perhaps her goodness would spill inside of him and then pour all over the street, wash away the blood, bring out the sun, remove the entire past twenty-four hours…

  As his heart threatened to stop, he saw E.T. pull up in his new white ride. The guy was now slanging dope, trying to support the baby he had on the way. The young man got out of his car, his upper lip twitching before he spit onto the concrete.

  “HE TOOK MY BOY! HE TOOK MY BROTHA! THAT MOTHAFUCKA!”

  Like a light switch, Tony’s sorrow turned to searing wrath.

  “WHO DID THIS TO HIM?” he asked through gritted teeth.

  “Street’s pussy ass! Maize checked that fool, told him about himself, said some shit he didn’t like, and then Street came back ’round here and shot him up! Hey!” The vein in E.T.s neck strained as he snapped his ring-covered fingers at the police, his green eyes glowed like they were on fire. “Y’all ain’t gone do shit about it, is you?! Black on Black crime, right? Y’all don’t give uh fuck about us! My boy been laying here dead they said for thirty fuckin’ minutes and y’all ain’t even come! This was a good mothafucka! He ain’t do shit to nobody! Y’all don’t give a shit about us! Why are you here, huh? Probably happy that a
good nigga is dead! Somebody who cared, didn’t fit into your little box! FUCK THA POLICE!” E.T. shot his finger in the air and grabbed his nuts as angry tears streamed down his cheeks.

  The police ignored E.T.’s outburst, went around asking the crowd a few questions, then drove away. But the blood on the street remained…

  The sobbing remained…

  The hurt and pain was there to stay.

  Tony locked gazes with E.T. and a quiet understanding spilled between the two of them.

  In a matter of seconds, E.T. was back in his car, driving off like a madman down the street. Tony broke away from Cassidy’s grip and headed to his car, too.

  “TONY, NO! Please! STOP!”

  But he ignored her. He got in his car, started it up, and followed E.T., speeding to catch up until they were right behind one another, their engines revving. They shot through a succession of red lights, fueled by fury. Where are we going? Surely Street wouldn’t be stupid enough to return to his home, but he figured E.T. knew exactly where the punk was. A few minutes later, E.T. pulled up to a green apartment building. Tony parked right across the street from him and in no time, they were going through the front entrance, side by side. E.T. pulled his jacket back and Tony saw his gun. He’d grabbed his own from his glove compartment before getting out of his car and slid it in his jacket, too.

  “What’s this?” Tony asked. He huffed, his adrenaline pumping as they marched down the hall.

  “His girl’s crib. I bet he’s over here.”

  Tony nodded as they approached an apartment door, 2-C. E.T. took out his gun and shot the damn door knob off. Screams ensued as they walked inside. E.T. went to the left, knocking over some young woman who was yelling at the top of her lungs.

  “Shut tha fuck up! Where the fuck is he, bitch?”

  Tony veered down the hall to the right and kicked the bedroom door open to find Street in the process of climbing out the window. Tony raced to him and dragged his ass back inside.

  “What you doin’, man?! What you doin’, Montana?!”

  “YOU KILLED MY BROTHER! YOU KILLED MAIZE, MOTHERFUCKER!” He pointed the gun at the guy’s head and cocked it.

  “Montana, come on, man!” Street pleaded, Maize’s blood splatter all over his shirt. “I’m yo’ boy too! I’m yo’ boy too, man! You don’t understand, man! Let’s talk!”

  “There’s not shit to understand… We’re done talking. It’s over.”

  BAM!

  …A strange silence entered the place and sat itself down all around him…

  Or perhaps it was the sudden shock. It was seconds, maybe minutes or hours… slow motion… red and bits of brain… the smell of fresh blood…

  Now he could faintly hear screaming once again… and a siren… Someone was talking, someone was yelling…

  The hard shove into his side made him buckle at the knees… cold metal around his wrists…

  Once reality set in, he was in the precinct being handcuffed, but still dreaming, still floating down a river leading into a waterfall made of blood and gore. He was going over the edge. No matter how he tried to paddle backwards, faster, slower, frantically, he was going over…

  He stood in this dream phase while his picture was taken…

  It wasn’t long before he was butt naked, being searched…

  Showered. Dressed in a white jumpsuit. Booked…

  Name: Antonio Cristian Romano

  Birthdate: April 17

  Race: Caucasian

  Age: 18

  Eye color: gray – (could be mistaken for blue)

  Height: 6’3…

  Weight: 208 lbs…

  Tattoos: No tattoos…

  Dental work: Two gold teeth(incisors)… one front with a diamond…,

  Personal Artifacts: $129.00 in cash in wallet, two rings – one diamond pinky ring, one class ring, one diamond earring stud.

  Criminal Record: No priors.

  Tony didn’t recall his Miranda rights being read, but was told that they had been recited to him.

  They told him he refused to talk to the police and demanded a lawyer… he didn’t recall saying that, either. It seemed, his body and brain had disconnected, moved on without his soul, functioning on their own. On autopilot.

  He lay down on the hard bed in the jail cell and stared up at the ceiling. Nothing made sense at that moment, and yet, everything made sense…

  He thought about the look of terror in Street’s eyes right before he shot him dead.

  And then, he smiled…

  PART 2

  Following the Recipe

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  Twelve years later

  Modern Day…

  Colorful floral print paper fans moved in slow motion as the ruddy-faced minister held tight to the sides of the oak wood pulpit in the scorching sanctuary of the Prime Baptist Church. His deep voice boomed throughout the space, sharing tales of sweet Heaven, grace and forgiveness. He spoke of Betty Amelia Sanders in the most beautiful of ways… and she’d been all that and then some…

  Cassidy crossed her legs and bowed her head, breathing slowly in and out as she gripped a moist tissue in her palm.

  Grandmama, I did as you wished. You were very specific, and I know how important your homegoing is to you. I had the dancers, the ushers dressed in black and white, your favorite singer in your choir, Mrs. Terri. She sang three songs in your honor and boy did she sound good! I know you’re lookin’ down on all of us right now, probably smilin’ from ear to ear. Look at this place, Grandmama; it’s packed wall-to-wall. These are all the people you touched and blessed when you walked the Earth. I still can’t believe you’re gone now. How’d this happen? I just spoke to you three days ago…

  Cassidy’s eyes stung from the thick mascara mixing in with her tears and sweat. The curls in her natural hair had lost their bounce, the press-and-go job a total waste of time. She’d changed clothes five times that morning in the hotel then finally decided upon the navy-blue skirt with matching blazer, and a cream top beneath. She looked up at the bulky fan hanging from the pitched church ceiling moving as slowly as her thoughts. Blood rushed through her veins and she trembled for the whole world was melting, sweltering and swollen with worry and drawn out emotions.

  When would it end? Did grief ever take a back seat to disappointment? Everything seemed to be going in slow motion, she itched to get out of there, but couldn’t bear to leave. She looked about, turned to and fro, catching the eye of several family members and old friends she hadn’t seen in years. The minister’s voice vibrated through her as he changed from uplifting words to warnings about torched souls writhing about in the pits of Hell. A part of her wished to run, to escape the damning judgment of his terse words. Hell and fire, brimstone and punishment… Would God still love her, forgive her transgressions?

  She glanced around the church again, and her heart practically stopped beating…

  What? No, that can’t be him. Maybe it’s somebody who just looks a lot like him. Besides, I haven’t seen him in forever. No tellin’ what he looks like now…

  There, four pews behind her and off to the left, was someone who looked a hell of a lot like her first love, Tony Romano…

  She blinked several times, the burning in her eyes now a three-alarm fire. The man was dressed in a dark gray suit and light blue tie with his head slightly bent forward, allowing dark brown waves of hair to fall effortlessly in his electric gray eyes. He donned a short trimmed beard and mustache, along with an unmistakable expression of heartache on his handsome face.

  When the time came, and service had crawled to an end, she found herself standing and shaking hands with people who told her tales of her childhood—things she could not recall.

  “You were such a precocious and pretty little child! Look at you. Just gorgeous, girl! Betty loved you so much! You were her pride and joy!”

  “I remember you planting flowers with Betty and her being so proud!”

  “Betty used to always talk about how smar
t you were! Said you had such an imagination, too!”

  “When you went off to college, Betty cried tears of joy! Then, when you started the Onyx magazine, she told everyone she could about it. She told everybody her grandbaby is famous!”

  Or stories of what Betty, her dear grandmother, had done for them…

  “We was about to be put out of our house and she gave us money we know she ain’t have to give…”

  “Ms. Betty made a big ol’ dinner for my daddy’s funeral. She cooked everythang and didn’t ask for a dime!”

  And so the stories went, none of which surprised Cassidy in the least. Grandmama had taken care of everybody, including her. No matter how far she ran, she knew deep down, good, bad or indifferent, this place would always be home. Cassidy had been raised right there in Belle Glade, Florida in a small house with an occasional drippy roof that was filled with a lot of love. That love had sustained her for years, and Grandmama had taught others how to love, too.

  As one person left, another would appear declaring their adoration for a woman who’d lived to see the age of seventy-six and had still moved with grace despite having arthritis and pain in every joint imaginable. Until the end, Grandmama had always kept her hair braided or curled, her lipstick on, her earrings in, and her body clean, powdered and perfumed. Visions of seeing Grandmama in the hospital the previous year came knocking on her memory door. Those images stung, disturbing as they were, flooding her mind at the wrong damn time.

  How could I have been so wrong? Grandmama got better and I figured she was all right. She told me she was fine and she looked good, had her color back. I should have pressed her again to move in with me; she didn’t have any business still living here! But she wouldn’t budge… Stubborn woman!