Chapter 20 Mariah
The argument had stolen my sleep. I lied to myself... made myself believe that I was immune to feeling hurt about how messed up my relationship was with Sabrina.
My mind was spinning with all the things that kept us apart. They were like pictures inside of glass balls moving around in my head. She didn’t even look like she remembered the cruise, and yet some days it was all I did remember about her. I still hadn’t forgiven her.
I threw the blanket off my legs, got up, and went downstairs. I liked having it to myself. The only sound was the ticking of the vintage grandfather clock in the foyer and the slight hum of the refrigerator. I flipped on the light and walked to the stove. Sabrina had done some baking. I touched the still-warm surface with both hands, dropped my head back, and soaked in the heat. I loved the feeling of a warm stove. I loved the quiet of a kitchen at night. It was my happy place. When Mama died, I slipped out of my bed, went down to our kitchen, and sat at the table, imagining that she was there with me cooking or baking a cake. It was my safe place to remember Mama until Daddy sold it away from me. When he sold the house, I lost that space.
I opened the refrigerator. Although it was two o’ clock, I wasn’t likely to fall back to sleep just because I got back in bed. I decided to make my grandfather a nice healthy vegetable soup. He would love it.
I removed stock, cream, carrots, celery, collards, and butternut squash. I loved putting squash in my soup. I got my herbs together and grabbed some onions and potatoes and began chopping and loading up my pot. Just as I put it all on simmer, I heard feet on the stairs. Grandma entered the kitchen stating the obvious. “Somebody can’t sleep.”
“I think that’s two somebodys,” I said. I washed my hands. “Can I get something for you? Water, decaf tea?”
“Oh no. I’ll spend the night in the bathroom. I don’t need anything but a little talk with you.” She sat and pulled the thin cotton lapels of her robe together.
I sat across from her. “I’m making vegetable soup for Grandpa.”
Grandma smiled. “He’s going to love that. They don’t like for us to bring outside food in. He has dietary restrictions, but I ain’t studin’ them folks. I told them my husband will get better enjoying the foods he’s used to.”
I raised an index finger and inserted my but: “Minus a little salt.”
Grandma chuckled. “Yes, minus some salt. I told your grandfather that with his blood pressure and diabetes, he’s not built to be able to just eat all the salt he wants.”
“I made sure to use all the herbs and some other tricks. He’ll love it.”
Grandma smiled. “Well, I know you love your grandfather, but I’m pretty sure he’s not the one keeping you up.” She placed both hands on the table and extended them so I would put mine in hers, and I did.
“I have a lot of things on my mind.” I sighed. “So much.”
“I have a feeling that one of those things might be your sister.” Grandma pursed her lips. “You two had some heated words.”
I nodded. Once again, shame tiptoed around me.
“I heard you say something about a cruise. Were you two supposed to go on a vacation?”
I shook my head. “Grandma, it’s a long, old story.”
“It can’t be that old. You yelled it less than five hours ago.”
I stood and walked to my pot, stared down in it at the mix of vegetables, and then stirred, unnecessarily at this point, before turning around and leaning against the counter. “Sabrina and I were supposed to go on a cooking cruise some years ago, and she backed out on me.”
Grandma frowned. “What is a cooking cruise?”
“A summer culinary tour. We were going to travel to Haiti, Jamaica, Panama City, and Xalapa in Veracruz, Mexico.” I still felt excited about the itinerary. I realized I was talking about it like it was happening in the future. I sighed and reeled back that emotion. “In each location, I would learn to cook African-influenced foods indigenous to the countries, and Sabrina was going to learn about the local baking culture. It was really special, Grandma. A once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to travel with two world-renowned chefs.”
“Sounds expensive.”
“It was. We planned it my last semester in college, but the trip wasn’t until the following spring. I worked every part-time job I could find, from grocery delivery to sorting packages in a warehouse, to save the money. I was paying my half and some of Sabrina’s.”
“Seems like I remember some mention of this. You didn’t come home for any holidays.”
“Right,” I said. “I worked all the time.”
“Where was your sister’s part coming from, because I don’t ever remember hearing that she was doing all that?”
We chuckled together before I replied, “She had money she’d saved from birthday, holiday, and graduation gifts she had over the years. Plus, you know Daddy was giving her an allowance. The money wasn’t the problem.”
“What was?”
“Sabrina backed out. Nearly at the last minute. She’d met Kendrick. He wanted her to travel to the Grand Canyon with him, and she decided that was more important. The Grand Canyon that would always be there, with a man she’d only been seeing for a few months. I couldn’t go alone. I couldn’t come up with the rest of her money plus spending money in a month.”
Grandma pulled her hands into her lap. I could see understanding in her eyes.
“I was heartbroken. I needed that trip. We needed it. Three weeks on a ship, touring islands and cooking together away from the worries of the world would have fixed a lot of things between us. I was finally ready to fix it.” I wiped a rebellious tear that found its way down my face and sat.
“Baby, I’m so sorry she did that to you.”
“I feel silly still being angry about it. It’s been ten years.”
“Well, sometimes yesterday feels closer than we’d like, especially when it’s a matter of the heart.”
I was glad she understood. It made me feel less silly. “I never really told anyone this, but I had dreams of becoming a food expert and culinary writer. I was going to create my own podcasts and videos about Black cooking, including Gullah of course. The cruise was going to be the kickoff of my career. The video footage would have drawn viewers to my platform.”
“Your sister didn’t stop that, Mariah.”
I sniffed and nodded. “I know. I mean, I was dating Vince, and he wanted to get married.”
“You both did.”
“Yes, we did.” I sighed. “Once upon a time.” We sat there for a moment with neither of us saying anything until I added, “I found out that Vince is going to go on with the cooking show without me.”
Grandma looked disappointed for a few seconds, and then she squared her shoulders and said, “So what? You young people are always talking about the YouTube app. Well, I been looking at it some. I see all kinds of people teaching stuff and holding classes and cooking and baking. They’re not letting television networks stop them from creating their own thing. Why can’t you create your own show? You got one of them fancy phones just like they do. You can use Tabby’s as your base. You can make an opportunity.”
I hadn’t considered this. It sounded like a lot of work, and I was so broken from disappointment, I couldn’t see my way clear to being that creative. Not after all I’d given to Clark’s.
“Mariah, I see you wilting right before my eyes. You can do it.”
I heard my grandmother with my ears, but not my heart. I didn’t have any interest in thinking about this right now, so I told her what she wanted to hear. “I’ll think about it.”
“Umm-hmm,”Grandma said. “Now, on the matter of your sister, I know you don’t want to hear this, but you need to forgive her. Honey, this bitterness is not serving you.”
I sighed and turned my head from her eyes toward the blue and orange flame under the pot. My emotions were like that pot, on boil. The bitterness I was carrying had never served me well, yet I didn’t know how to let it go.
“You’re the oldest, Mariah. Your sister is afraid of you. She can’t handle your sarcasm. She’s also intimidated by your success. She doesn’t think you need her, but I know you do. God brought the two of you out of the same womb for a reason.”
Grandma stood. “Forgive her and get to know her before it’s too late.” She opened her arms, and I stood and walked into them. Grandma gave me a snug hug, the kind I needed to push the hurt I was feeling out of my skin through my pores. Because making this soup, my usual stress reliever, had not worked. I kissed my grandmother’s cheek.
“Don’t stay up too late.”
“I won’t.”
She left the kitchen, and I walked to my pot. I looked down at the ingredients through tear-filled eyes. I could barely see them. My grandmother was right. Hope was right. Dante was right. My father was right. Everyone was right about me and Sabrina. But I’d been here for so long, settled into this toxic relationship with her from the time she was born, that I didn’t even know how to fix it.