Gumbo

by Tiana Laveen

  “If you think about it, we actually never officially broke up, Cass. Neither one of us said, ‘This is over.’ I asked you to not come to the prison or write me, but I could never form the words, ‘We’re done.’ God willing, we would have gotten back together one day, and that was always my hope. More importantly, I just wanted you to be happy and if that had to happen without me after I was released, then I would’ve had to accept that, too. That was me choosing you, once again… and again… and again. I chose you every time I realized that I couldn’t fully commit to other women I tried to date. I couldn’t give them everything they deserved because my heart still belonged to someone else… and you know who that is. You and I struggled in tandem… because it was always about you, Cass… You were always the chosen one…”

  …Later that evening

  It was beyond entertaining watching Cassidy sit at the little kitchen table in Grandmama’s house with her laptop, having a work-related meeting. He tried to stay out of the way as she spoke to someone on Skype regarding some website changes and updating an article about the death of 2-Pac Shakur.

  “So, if we put the leads there, and tie in the death of the Notorious B.I.G, Christopher Wallace, I think that would make for an interesting article. People want updates about any further information, investigations, feuds, threats, negotiations, confessions, anything. These two heavy hitters in the rap game were murdered and we held them in high regard in the Black community, Greg.”

  “Rap royalty…”

  “Exactly! So, if we have updated information and never-seen-before photos of both men, then that’s the angle I think we should take. We want to keep it positive, but also provide possible leads and incentive for people to speak up if they’ve been holding onto any information that could lead to an arrest.”

  “I agree and there are two photos we obtained from fans that, to my knowledge, have never been reviewed…”

  While the conversation went on, Tony grabbed a cold bottle of water from the refrigerator and exited the kitchen, the cookbook in hand. Flicking on the light in his sweetheart’s old bedroom, he found a seat on that old mattress they’d re-christened not too long ago.

  Okay, she wants me to pick out the recipe tonight, so let me see…

  He perused the book, laughing at some of the notes scribbled inside. He then landed on the mushroom, sausage, and cornbread dressing recipe.

  Let’s see here… honey, vinegar, chicken broth, cornmeal, can of creamed corn, sliced pork sausage and ground pork sausage, ground beef, sage, mushrooms, Italian seasonings, pepper, salt… flour, milk, eggs, butter, rosemary, baking soda, baking powder. Yeah, we have most of this stuff, only need to pick up a few things tonight…

  He read a small note Grandmama had written on the bottom of the page, right beneath the handwritten recipe:

  ‘One day my mama made cornbread in a whole new way. She hated sweet cornbread. Daddy loved it. She blamed it on his sweet tooth. She decided to make a cornbread one night that would please both of them. It had creamed corn, a dash of honey, pickled red peppers and savory black pepper. They both liked it. Sometimes, life is about compromise. It wasn’t just about the cornbread. It was about cooperation, negotiations, a new deal and respect. That’s what love is. You have to compromise, not always try and have your way. Find a middle ground. A relationship consists of two people, not one. You come together, blend. You respect whatever each of you brings to the dinner table…’

  He thought over those words, then placed the cookbook down on the bed.

  After looking through a box of old spiral notebooks and pencils, he jotted down a quick note:

  Cassidy, going out to pick up some mushrooms and ground pork. We already have ground beef. Sounds like sex, doesn’t it? Mushroom… pork you. LOL. I know you like ground turkey too, so let me know if you want me to get that too and we can alter the recipe a little if you prefer. Just text me if you see this in time. I’ll be back in a jiffy. Get it? Like cornbread.

  Tony

  He laughed at his own joke as he placed the post-it-note on the kitchen counter, winked at her, and left the house. Thirty minutes later, he placed two bags of groceries in his rental car trunk and got in the driver’s seat to head back.

  His phone rang. Upon checking the number, he sighed and answered the call, remaining silent.

  “…” Silence.

  He disconnected the call and went on his way, driving past people out for the evening. Loud rap music could be heard, layered over Mexican tunes. He cracked the window and turned down his radio. The air was perfumed with what smelled like impending rain. Once he got back to Grandmama’s house, he could hear music playing from the place. He entered the house with the spare key Cassidy had given him and grinned when he heard ‘Weak’ by SWV playing and saw white candles burning. Cassidy stood in the middle of the living area, barefoot, wearing a plain, oversized white shirt and white cotton capris. Her large silver earrings that were shaped like lips swung as she rocked back and forth, snapping her fingers.

  “Are you ready to cook, baby?” She cast a devilish grin his way. “Because honey, I’m famished…”

  He stood behind her in the kitchen, the room filling with the delicious aromas of the baking cornbread dish, stuffed with seasonings and meats.

  “What made you decide on sausage and mushroom cornbread dressing? Grandmama usually only made this on Thanksgiving, maybe Christmas, too.”

  “You know, I’m not sure.” He shrugged. “It just appealed to me when I read the recipe.”

  “It’s comfort food. Reminds me of those big dinners she’d make. Our family here in Florida as you know wasn’t that big. Most people had either died or moved away, or never left Louisiana in the first place so when Grandmama would cook, there were always more friends at our table than blood relatives.”

  Tony nodded in understanding.

  “Yeah, most of my family was in Jersey so it was nice comin’ over here for holidays and sharing it at Grandmama’s. My mom and Dante loved it, too.”

  She looked over her shoulder at him and they smiled at one another, then leaned in for a kiss at the exact same time. He wrapped his arms around her from behind, kissing her neck and pressing his budding erection into the small of her back.

  “Don’t hold a gun to me,” she teased, making him laugh.

  “It just does this shit on its own.” He laughed. “Whenever I am near you now, it happens. I plan to cash in on this later. I’m going to wear you out tonight, girl.”

  He slapped her ass and she giggled as he walked back over to the counter to dice more tomatoes for their salad. Just then, her cellphone rang.

  “Oh shit, it’s Peaches.”

  “Peaches?”

  “Yeah.” Cassidy smiled. “She is a good friend of mine from L.A., works for my magazine. Let me take this call, do you mind?”

  “Of course not, baby. Handle your business. How long before this is ready though? You know, in case you’re still talking.”

  “Give it about ten more minutes. If I’m not out by then, turn the oven off and take it out.”

  “Okay, got it. I’ll be right here waitin’ for my Angel Eyes.” He winked at her before she headed out the room, then continued with his chopping and slicing to the music of ‘Giving Him Something He Can Feel’, by En Vogue…

  “Peaches! You’re back from Denver, huh?” Cassidy sat down on her grandmother’s bed and felt suddenly surrounded by warmth. She crossed her legs, ready to dive in with her girlfriend, catch up and what not.

  “Yes, finally that’s all over and done with. I’m so sorry I missed the funeral, Cass. I called you a couple of times but I know you’ve been busy.”

  “It’s all right that you couldn’t come, really. You didn’t know Grandmama anyway and I know you had this trip scheduled way in advance. And as far as the calls, I called you back but it went straight to voicemail. No biggie, you are a woman on the move and you know my situation. I tell you what though, this is taking far more energy than I imagi
ned, and I am talking emotional energy, too. Peaches, I am drained.”

  “Of course it is! I know you stand around here at work with the weight of the world on your shoulders, smiling through it. But this is different, Cassidy. This woman was basically like your mother.” Cassidy readjusted her position on the bed, feeling herself becoming a little more relaxed. “I still would’ve come in to support you if I could’ve gotten these tickets refunded. I know how much she meant to you; you spoke of her all the time. So, how are you holding up right now, honey?”

  “I’m holding… some moments are better than others.”

  “Yes… I can only imagine.” Peaches sighed. “So, any plans for when you’ll be returning to California? Everyone misses you.”

  “I thought this would only take a few weeks, a month at most, but obviously it’s exceeded that. I am hoping to get finished soon but I may have to fly in for a few days and come right back… still working that out.”

  “I have no idea how you’re managing that all by yourself! You are something! I about went crazy when my father died and only my brother and I were allowed to go through his estate and get everything squared away. Since our parents were divorced and he never remarried, it was just us two trying to make it work. But you’re all alone. I really wish you had some help so that you could grieve in peace.”

  “Well, actually, my best friend Danica was here for a few days and she helped a bit but check this out… Something surprising happened, I’m not alone.” Cassidy reached for the hem of her shirt and twisted it to and fro, a big smile spreading across her face.

  “Oh really, what happened? Who’s with you?”

  “An ex-boyfriend of mine was at the funeral, Peaches. I was shocked! I never expected to see him there and we’ve been catching up and well, he’s been helping me with the house. Long story short,” she took a deep breath, “some feelings have reignited. The spark is definitely there.”

  “Oh shit!” Her friend giggled. “Don’t keep me in suspense! So tell me all about him!”

  “Okay, well, his name is Tony. He’s originally from New Jersey but moved to Belle Glade when he was almost sixteen. We were friends first and then, well, we fell for each other. He was my first everything, Peaches. I saw him at the funeral and my heart almost stopped.”

  “Oh my goodness… I loooove this! So, does he have children? Ever been married? Why’d you two break up? What does he look like?!”

  Cassidy laughed lightly at all the questions her friend was rattling off. “He has no children. Why we broke up is, well, a little complicated but basically, one night our mutual friend was murdered.”

  “Oh my God… I am so sorry.”

  “Yeah, it was a long time ago, but at the time of course it was really upsetting. So anyway, Tony went after the guy that shot and killed our friend and uh… he returned the favor. That landed him ten years in prison.”

  “Girl! I need a minute to catch my breath! So basically, you all’s friend was killed and he killed the guy who shot him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Okay, got it. Wow! So, he’s basically a felon?”

  Cassidy’s smile slowly faded and she sat a bit taller.

  “Well, if you want to be technical, yes.”

  “Okay, okay, I mean, just sorting this all out in my mind… Now answer my other question. What does he look like?”

  “Now, as far as what he looks like… He’s gorgeous, Peaches. He’s, uh, about 6’3 or 6’4.”

  “Oh girl, yes! I like them tall, too! I bet he is a beautiful specimen of chocolate, baby!”

  “He’s not chocolate. He’s White, Peaches. Italian American, to be specific.”

  This was followed by a long silence, a pregnant pause, the kind that could have the game show Jeopardy music playing as answers were written and soon presented to Alex Trebek.

  “White? Girl, stop playing! You play too much!” Peaches burst out laughing on the other end.

  “I’m not playing, Peaches. He’s White… like, we’re talking light gray eyes that look almost blue in certain light.” The laughter on the other end stopped abruptly. “More importantly though, why is that funny?”

  “You… you can’t be serious, Cassidy! Why would you do this?”

  “Why would I do what?” She scooted towards the edge of the bed.

  “Have you lost your mind due to your grief? He’s White! This isn’t a good look. You mean to tell me, with all the gorgeous, smart, rich Black men in the world, you had to go and get you a White dude? What tha fuck?”

  Cassidy got to her feet and stared at her reflection in the mirror of Grandmama’s dresser.

  “You know what, Peaches? I think we should end this conversation. I was going to say something in response, but I better not get started because once I get going, I probably won’t stop and you’ll see me in a whole new light.”

  “Cassidy, listen to me!”

  “Don’t. Please don’t mistake my kindness for weakness. If you keep this up, it won’t be pretty.”

  “Naw, you’re going to listen to me, damn it! I’m your friend. I care about you. You don’t get to just dismiss me because you don’t like what I’m saying. You own one of the most popular Black-owned magazines in the country. Your staff is granted exclusive interviews with top billing celebrities. Your staff is mostly Black!”

  “So what!”

  “So what?! You are a celebrity now! You can’t just walk around here dating Mr. 8-Mile! Let me guess, he acted and spoke Black, didn’t he? Another Afro-Saxon culture vulturing us again. Your magazine is about Black empowerment, Black love, Black worth! As the CEO of Onyx magazine, you cannot date a White felon! It will kill your career, Cassidy! And you’re from the South, too? Cassidy, it’s like you’ve forgotten your roots, who you are! You’re still fairly young, educated, beautiful. You wear your natural hair, you work out, you do it all! You are smart, talented and a great catch. Why would you stoop so low? I know the divorce was hard on you, but damn! Have some morals and integrity, sis!”

  “First of all, Peaches, no… no. Peaches is a nickname, a term of endearment, and I’m not feeling particularly endeared right about now, so let’s ditch that for this conversation. Patrice, my magazine is about all of those things you mentioned, but I have covered way more than just people of African descent and Black Americans in my work.” Cassidy took a deep breath to compose herself while her brain fired off like lightning. “We’ve interviewed Madonna, didn’t we? Last I checked, she was White, and that issue was one of our biggest sellers. We’ve interviewed Brad Pitt, Tom Hanks, Hugh Jackman, George Clooney, and the list goes on! WHITE! WHITE! WHITE! WHITE! For our Hip Hop series, we interviewed Machine Gun Kelly, China Mac, and Eminem… WHITE! ASIAN! WHITE! You didn’t say shit about that, now did you?”

  “Interviewing them and fucking them are two different things.”

  “Ohhh, I see. So, when I am involved with one of these people we got our bread and butter from, our cash cows so to speak, it’s an issue! Got it. Pull up your pants. Your hypocrisy is showing.”

  “I could have handled the felon part if he’s turned his life around, Cassidy, but you didn’t mention if he’s got a job, nothing!”

  “Oh, I didn’t realize I had to run his resume past you, Patrice. What about Andre, the Hotep guy you dated last year who made about $7,000 annually, before taxes, selling incense and shea butter but you looked past that because he could lay good pipe, was cute, and wore kente cloth and those dusty ass sandals all around town? Never mind the other women he was pipping down, too, the six baby mamas and nine kids and talking about polygamy and how it was the way of our people and you needed to be down with it in order to snag a prize like him. Andre got a pass, but Tony doesn’t… and the fucked up part is that his ass broke up with you!”

  “So, since you’re avoiding my comment by trying to bring up some old shit, basically, this Tony guy is broke, and you’re rich. Okay, got it. You need to look at the facts and stop living in a dream world, Cass, before he ta
kes you for a ride and cleans out your bank account. Does this motherfucker realize how much you’re worth fiscally, Cassidy? Of course he does!” The woman laughed mirthlessly. “He probably just wants your money! He don’t give a shit about you. That’s how White people are, Cass. You are too trusting sometimes. Leave the past in the past and don’t make this mistake. You’ll live to regret it.”

  “You kill me!” She gritted her teeth as she kept staring at herself in grandmama’s mirror, the pink lights shining down upon her, “The duplicity from you is unreal. White people buy our magazine, too. I don’t see you rejecting their money, telling them they can’t place their ads, stopping them from sponsoring our YouTube videos… I see none of that, Ms. Power to the People! Asians buy our magazine, too, and we have over thirty percent of our readers identifying as non-Black! Remember that survey we did from two years ago? Without White people, you probably wouldn’t even have a job!”

  “Now hold on a minute! I looked up to you, Cassidy. You have far too much to lose. I know you’re mad; things are emotional right now and he probably gave you some good ol’ slave master dick and it’s fucked your head up, but this is so damn disappointing. I’m just trying to help you out before you fall even further down this slippery slope. You and I have been brutally honest with one another in the past. We’re like sisters and we don’t always agree, but this right here has to be addressed. You can’t be the bed wench and the Black savior at the same time, Cass. Now please, you had—”

  “Stop… stop!” Cassidy waved her arm about and shook her head. “I never said that my magazine was only about Black love. It’s for the empowerment of love, period, and who I date, kiss, or fuck is my own gotdamn business! This is my life, Patrice, not yours, and the world is always ready to sit back and judge somebody. I don’t need so-called friends doing that, too. It is one thing to have concerns and respectfully bring them up; it is quite another to be racist, talk to me like I’m some child, and cherry pick what you want to rah-rah about and what you turn a blind eye to when it is convenient. You’re awfully judgmental, you know that? I had no idea that God was named Patrice.”