Gumbo

by Tiana Laveen

  The woman was a natural host. Gracious, eye-catching, poised.

  Shit. That’s mine… that’s all mine right there. He smirked at the notion as he brought his glass of champagne to his lips.

  At times he’d wake up and look over at her, in shock that this was truly happening… that it was real. Sometimes, while in prison, he’d have dreams that were so vivid and convincing of the two of them together, chasing each other on the beach, kissing in the rain, making love on that little torn up mattress in her room, that when he’d wake up and realize it was only his mind playing tricks on him, he’d scream at the top of his lungs, wishing he were dead…

  “Your platinum rose painting just sold. You’re on a roll,” Cassidy whispered in his ear before rolling off in another direction, floating along the glossy white floor… riding an Earthbound cloud.

  Two hours later, after rubbing shoulders, laughing at jokes he didn’t quite understand, and shooing a lost young boy back to his parents after catching him staring at a wall-sized drawing of an erect penis going inside a sopping wet vagina, he took stock of the evening. Over ninety percent of his pieces had sold and, much to his surprise, some people asked to take photos with him and post them on their social media networks.

  “You’re famous now… a new political satirist for the L.A. Times,” his fiancée remined him. Cassidy had a strange way of reading his mind, dipping her proverbial toes into the ocean of his thoughts.

  “But I don’t just draw that sort of stuff. See, I also—”

  “Doesn’t matter, baby. There’s an election coming up and that’s where people’s focus lie. Just bow, say, ‘thank you’, and accept it. You’re a big deal now.” She wrapped her arm around his and they said their farewells to his guests.

  “Sometimes living here feels like being in another world, Cass. I feel like uh fish outta water. It’s not in a bad way though; it’s just surreal. These people are… I don’t know…”

  “Pretentious?”

  They looked at one another and laughed.

  “Yeah! Well, no, not all of ’em it just feels kinda strange, ya know? Like I have to perform, like I’m some hired monkey with musical cymbals, supposed to entertain them. I am an entertainer, though. My art, my illustrations have that purpose, but hopefully they enlighten a little bit, too… I hope more than a little bit, honestly.”

  He swallowed as he witnessed his artwork being tagged, the addresses of the buyers being placed on the corner of each frame. “I’m glad the show was a success, Cassidy, don’t get me wrong, I just didn’t expect people to be wearin’ ballgowns, suits, shit like that. Here I am wearing a fuckin’ beanie and a black Polo shirt. I look like a schmuck.”

  “You’re the artist; you can wear whatever you wish. In fact, the less you dress up, the more you stay true to yourself, the deeper they think you are. Reality is an expensive luxury. Embody yours and sell it to the top bidder. Tonight, that’s me…”

  She giggled as she tightened her grip on him, then leaned in for a kiss. He happily obliged, then taking her wrists and spinning her around under the lights. She became an angelic blur.

  “How about you and I wrap it up here, head home, and fuck like jack rabbits?” He smirked, snapping her back to him and hugging her tight.

  “How eloquent, Peter Rabbit… now that’s an offer I simply can’t refuse…”

  …Two weeks later

  “Danica called, baby!” Tony hollered out from the kitchen.

  Cassidy came through the front door. He heard the alarm beeping and the motion sensors activating as he went through the fabric grocery bags on the counter. He’d gotten home thirty minutes or so before and decided to prep for their special occasion.

  Janet Jackson’s ‘Any Time, Any Place’ took center stage on his playlist, and he had to pause and admire the quality of the surround sound speakers. He was reaching for the spice rack when his Angel Eyes came into full view, looking as gorgeous as ever.

  “What did you say, baby?” Toeing off her shoes, she walked up to him and pulled him in for a kiss.

  “Danica called you. She said she tried your cell first but it kept going straight to voicemail.”

  “Yeah, I was in a meeting.” She kissed him on the nose then released him. She turned on the faucet and washed her hands. “I’ll give her a call after dinner. So! What are we making tonight? You said you wanted to celebrate Onyx Magazine receiving the Ellie Award, and had something up your sleeve for me!”

  She crossed her arms and gleamed at him, showing all of her teeth, looking super excited. Tony picked up the old handwritten cookbook from the counter.

  “Grandmama’s cookbook? How does that play into this?”

  “There’s one recipe we both loved, one we didn’t make yet…”

  “We picked out all of our favorites… I mean yeah, there’s a lot more in there, but I can’t imagine what we forgot.”

  “Her gumbo…”

  Cassidy’s eyes got big as she gasped then slapped her hand over her mouth.

  “Oh, no! You’re right! How could that slip my mind?! You found it, I take it? I hadn’t even seen it in there.”

  “Yup, I found it. I only looked at the ingredients list though so far. I wanted to hurry to the store and try to get back before the traffic got worse. I haven’t read the instructions yet. So, here’s the deal. You get comfortable.” He pointed towards their bedroom. “I’m going to check this recipe out in more detail and then I’ll start chopping the vegetables and everything for it. I even picked up a nice bottle of Riesling to pair with it!”

  He grabbed the bottle from the bag and showed her.

  “Nice! Looking forward to it! I love this, baby. Just a quiet night at home…” She sighed. “We’ve both been so busy lately. Okay, I’m going to shower and get on my nightclothes.” She turned to walk away.

  “Wear something sexy tonight. I’m tryna fuck! I don’t want to see that old baggy t-shirt again, you know, the one with the holes in it!”

  She chuckled. “Meet you back in the kitchen in twenty minutes!” She leaned in, gave him a peck, and sauntered off to their bedroom.

  “Alexa, play ‘Bad Intentions’ by Niykee Heaton featuring the Migos…” The song began to play as he re-opened the cookbook and scanned the Gumbo recipe page with a keen eye…

  1 cup vegetable oil … 1 cup all-purpose flour … 4 and a half cups chopped of white onion … 3 cups chopped green peppers … 1 cup chopped celery … 2 cups of green onions … 4 cups of diced okra … 3 cups chicken or fish broth … 8 cups water … 3 tablespoons of paprika … 3 tablespoons pink or sea salt … 2 teaspoons ground black pepper … 8-9 cups of medium sized shrimp … 4 cups of sliced sausage … 1 cup fresh parsley, minced … 2 tablespoons Old Bay seasoning …

  “Okay, I have all of these items. So after I do that, then what, Grandmama?” He kept reading… “Combine flour and oil… got it, got it, got it… I’ll let Cassidy do that part. Just wanted a general idea, here.” He pulled out a large wooden cutting board. Grabbing the onions, peppers, and celery, he washed them in a big colander then took a knife out of the drawer and began to dice them up. He moved to the rhythm of the music, startling when he heard a loud thud. “Shit…” He looked at the floor and saw the cookbook had fallen, face down.

  “Must’ve accidentally bumped it…”

  When he picked it up, a folded white piece of paper fluttered out; this one appeared letter size. Tony placed the cookbook back onto the counter, reached for the piece of paper that was tri-folded, and opened it up. He started to read…

  ‘Sometimes things get worse before they get better.

  The past few days have been pretty hard for my Cassidy. One of her best friends died. I have tried to write this note two times, but break down crying at each attempt. I get tears all over the paper and it makes the ink run. This is my third effort. I pray I make it through. My adopted grandson, that’s what I call him, Maize, was killed. I pray for his mama. She’s been through so much. Everyone is mighty upset ab
out this. To make matters worse, my other adopted grandson, Tony, my grandbaby’s sweetheart, became so upset that he let his anger get the best of him.

  He hunted Maize’s killer down and shot him. Now he’s in jail, waiting to go to prison. Tony is White, and that don’t matter none to me, but we were hoping they’d give him a lighter sentence because of that. In this case, things aren’t looking too good. Cassidy went to see him, but came back more upset than when she’d left the house. I am not sure what he said to her, but she hasn’t spoken in three days. She doesn’t eat. I told her that she has to pack and go on without him to California. She just stays in the bed. She cries in the morning. She cries in the afternoon. She cries all night long.

  I’ve tried to speak to her about this, but the light in her eyes is gone and I am no longer sure she hears anything I say. She feels crushed; her heart is broken like shattered glass. I know that Tony is Cassidy’s first love. A first love is a powerful thing. It’s like the rule book, the prototype to every other man that may come down the pike. A first love is special – it can never be replaced. Regardless of how short or long it lasted, that person remains in your heart forever.

  I understand the pain she feels. My husband was my first love too, but I know my grandbaby. Something is very wrong.

  Even during times of distress, she talks to me. Even when she feels her whole world is upside down, she will come to me, let me comfort her. Cassidy is completely closed off right now. She’s hurting mighty bad. So bad, I watched her go in and out of the bathroom last night, and this morning, too. Throwing up. I looked at her face real close and noticed a glow about her cheeks. Today, I looked in the bathroom to find the maxi pads. The package wasn’t opened and I don’t buy them for myself. I get them for her. Cassidy starts her cycle the same time, all the time. I know that because she keeps the calendar on her wall in her room. But that cycle isn’t here right now. It never came this month.

  So now I know why my grandbaby can’t breathe. I know why she can’t get up from under this black cloud. I know why she cries more than she sleeps. Her man is locked up. Tony is one of her best friends. They were friends first, though I think they always had a crush on each other from the start. Her other best friend is dead.

  And now my grandbaby is pregnant.

  She can’t be that far along. Cassidy is thin, but there isn’t a bump or anything; in fact, if I were to guess, she couldn’t be more than a few weeks into it. I doubt she’s known for long. Maybe it hit her all at once. It didn’t surprise me that she’d gotten in a family way.

  She and Tony were too young to be doing such things, but I wasn’t so silly as to fool myself into thinking it wasn’t happening. I would see how that boy would look at her. And how she would look at him. They are madly in love. I believe that with all of my heart. Tony adores Cassidy, but he’s also a boy, and boys like to do things to girls, things that have repercussions they can’t always handle. They are teenagers, older children trapped in grown folks’ bodies, full of hormones and crazy ideas.

  I am crying now again… I didn’t make it. I am going to have to wrap this up before I ruin my third time trying to write this.

  I’m crying not because my grandbaby is on her way to college with a baby growing inside of her, but because she has not told me. I’m going to love that baby just like I love her, and we’ll figure it out. We’ll raise that baby together and do our best to tell the child about his or her father until Tony can be a part of the baby’s life. I demand Cassidy go on to college. She needs that education not only for herself now, but for this child that she and Tony created. I hope she tells me soon. I can’t take much more of this. I also hope she tells Tony that he is going to be a father. Maybe it’ll give him a bit of happiness, something to look forward to. After all, it’s the right thing to do…’

  Tony’s hand shook so violently, he dropped the letter to the floor. His chest got tight. He gripped the kitchen counter as his eyes flooded with hot tears.

  “No!” He gripped the counter and screamed, “NO! This can’t be right! She never told me! She…she never told me! What did she do?! WHERE’S THE BABY?!”

  He spun around, gripping his hair, falling to his knees, praying, cursing, losing his mind. After a few moments, he gathered his wits and headed to their bedroom. Slowly opening the door, he took note of the silk red gown she’d laid on their large, round bed. His bare feet sank into the plush white carpet as he headed to the bathroom. There she was behind the clear enclosure, shampooing her hair and humming, her eyes closed. He stood there in a daze, staring at her, minute after minute… after minute…

  “Oh!” She jumped, quickly rinsing herself. “Boy, you scared me! I’m almost finished. Did you get everything cut up?”

  He crossed his arms over his chest, glaring at her as his heart pounded in a painful rhythm. “Tony?”

  She opened the clear glass door, stepped out, and wrapped a towel around her hair, her expression quizzical. She dried off, her gaze landing upon him every now and again.

  “What’s wrong with you? You’re acting weird!” Her brows gathered.

  “Why?” he barked.

  “Why what?”

  “Why didn’t you tell me, Cassidy?” His voice cracked as he tried to restrain himself, keep himself from going crazy… from tearing that entire house apart with his bare hands.

  “Tell you what, Tony?” She reached for him but he jumped back, avoiding her touch. “What’s gotten into you?! Tell you what?!”

  “THAT I GOT YOU PREGNANT RIGHT BEFORE I GOT LOCKED UP!” Suddenly, the color drained from her face. She blinked several times, stumbled back, and rested against the white wall. The woman lifted her chin… her eyes glazed over… and she swallowed. “What did you do with the baby, Cassidy?” She simply stood there, tears falling down her cheeks. “WHAT. DID. YOU. DO. WITH. OUR. BABY? TELL ME!!!!!”

  “Nothing!” she yelled, her voice shrill, cutting into his ears.

  “Tell me the truth, Cassidy! Please! Did you abort our baby? Just tell me! You didn’t have to do this… My mother would’ve helped! Grandmama would’ve helped, too! We could’ve made this work!” Her mouth hung open, but no words came out of it. “DID YOU KILL MY FUCKIN’ BABY?!!”

  He pounded the wall with his fists, over and over until he heard shattering all around him.

  Pictures had fallen off the wall… broken glass…

  Vases cracked, spilling forth earth, cracked clay…

  Perfume dripped from a fractured glass bottle in a Dungaree pocket… each drop eating at his sense of peace and resolve…

  Memories of Gumbo simmering in the big, old pot…

  Sweet tea and salty sweat, grilled meat, the stench of freshly drawn pain…

  The smell of new books, art pads, and youthful sex floating like bubbles in the air…

  Redolent gun smoke…One last kiss… hot metal… hard handcuffs on a man’s wrists. A man who’d never truly been a boy…

  He kept his back towards her, lacking the strength to turn around.

  Cassidy placed her hands on his shoulders and made him face her…

  “No. I didn’t get rid of the baby. I had a miscarriage, Tony. I lost our baby!”

  He watched her slowly slump to the ground, deflated, her eyes vacant. Bending down, he scooped her up into his arms and carried her to the bed. She wrapped her naked body around him, shivering, crying, coming undone…

  Going to the bed, she propped herself up and removed the towel from her head, unleashing long, thick, soft curls. She stared up at the ceiling.

  “The night you killed Street, I hadn’t been feeling well all day. I couldn’t figure out why, reckoned it was something I ate. This had been going on, off and on, for a few days. I didn’t think about it anymore after all that had happened; plus, I was feeling better, physically at least, the following day.” She picked up a glass of water from the nightstand, took a sip, then set it down. “Then, I went to see you in prison. We… we didn’t have a good discussion. I was heartbrok
en.”

  More tears streamed down her cheek. He handed her a tissue and lay beside her.

  “I got home, and felt sick again. Figured it was because I was so upset, you know, the stress of it all. Then, the next day came. I realized my period hadn’t come.” She took a deep breath. “I looked at the calendar, and by then, I was about two or three days late, I am not certain… it was so long ago… somewhere in there. I felt… panicky. I tried to tell myself that I wasn’t pregnant, but I knew that I was… I knew it.”

  She blew her nose.

  “So, uh, I tried to figure out how I was going to raise this baby by myself. The love of my life was gone, the baby’s father. I didn’t want to burden you with this, Tony. You had enough goin’ on. I needed to figure it out, though. I knew that I was keeping the baby… I was eighteen after all. I did believe I’d have to stay in town, go to college there so Grandmama could help me. But I was so afraid to tell her, Tony! I knew she was gonna be so damn disappointed in me!”

  She sobbed. He grabbed her hand and held it. “I, uh… I decided to go to the doctor. They drew blood and confirmed it. When I got home, Grandmama wasn’t there. I went in my room and tried to figure out how I was going to tell her, and how I was going to tell you, too. You and I weren’t talking, but I knew I had to tell you… thought I’d tell you both on the same day, knock out two birds with one stone. Her birthday was coming up so I sure as hell didn’t want to tell her right then and ruin it all. So, I decided I would tell her a few days after that. Well… a few days after never came.

  “One night, I had this terrible cramping. I looked and saw a bunch of blood. It didn’t even register that I was miscarrying. I figured my period had come because I know sometimes that can happen, even if you’re pregnant, or so I had read. I waited until that morning and went back to the doctor…” She hung her head. “They said… ain’t no baby, Ms. Macklin… They said I miscarried. They said the fetus was gone… it was small… couldn’t have been more than five weeks pregnant… They told me I didn’t need no D&C because I was so early in the pregnancy, but they examined me anyway…