“Are you a lesbian?”
“I am. Have been all my life.”
“So…you’ve kissed women before?”
“I have. Have you ever kissed a woman?”
“No. I mean, not a woman.”
“No?”
“Well, not a woman. I kissed a girl when I was a kid.”
“Okay. Have you ever kissed a guy?”
“Yeah. I kissed Josh Babin. When I was fifteen. Or really, he kissed me.”
“And who did you like kissing more?”
“Aw heck, Griffith. I know I’m a lesbian. I just didn’t know you knew that. How exactly did you know? I haven’t even talked to Bertie about it, not really.”
“I guess it takes one to know one. I hope I haven’t made you uncomfortable.”
“No, I’m just surprised. Is it that obvious? I mean, do you think other folks might guess?”
“Some might wonder, but if you haven’t talked about it, it’s all speculation at this point.”
Adi’s chest tightened and she felt light-headed. The prospect of something that personal being talked about by other folks made her feel sicker than when she’d sliced her finger. “You’re not going to write this in your article, are you? I’m not sure I want that out there just yet.”
“Heavens no. Adi, what I write about will focus on your cooking, what inspired you to be a chef and, I hope, the story of how you ended up at the Boiling Pot. That’s it. Nothing about your sexuality needs to be included. I was just curious for myself.”
The relief was almost overwhelming, and she wondered if the pain medication was giving her the light-headed feeling, or if it was Griffith’s proximity. Both. “Good, thank you. If they heard about it back home…I mean if they knew. Oh, I don’t know what I mean. I’m not a part of my past any more. I never belonged there. This is my home, for now. When Bertie is ready to retire, I’ll move somewhere even bigger, New Orleans or Houston, somewhere I can be myself. The small minds of Dulac won’t matter a bit.”
“Of course they won’t. They don’t, in fact. People who can’t or won’t accept folks like us are fewer and fewer these days. You can have a full, free life, Adi. It’s out there right now. Trust me; I live it every day. Being a lesbian is just like having brown eyes. It’s a part of who you are and you can’t change it.”
“You make it sound so simple. You have no idea the kind of hate that lives in these bayous. Nope. No one will know about me until I am so far from South Louisiana you can’t even remember the echo of what I was. Please, Griffith. Please be careful not to say anything to anyone.”
“You don’t have to worry about me, Adi. I’m here to talk to you, not about you. So, back to my original question. Would it be okay for you and me to get to know each other a little better? To build a friendship? An open, honest friendship? You can’t have too many friends, right?”
Adi laughed in relief. “Yeah, I guess that would be okay. I’d like to be friends, but I’m not sure about anything more.”
“If that happens, it happens. Let’s just play it by ear, okay?”
“Okay.”
“Sounds like you’re going to have a few days off. How about you show me some more of the unique things in New Iberia?”
“That sounds good. We can go to Avery Island. That’s where they make Tabasco sauce. And we can go crawfishing too. Have you ever been?”
“No, I can’t say that I have. Do I need a license or something?”
“I’ve got that covered. Let’s see what tomorrow’s weather is going to be. If it’s a nice day, we’ll do tourist stuff. If not, as long as it isn’t raining, we can crawfish. I have to warn you, it’s messy and you’ll be doing most of the work, thanks to my hand. You still want to try it?”
“Sure I do.”
“Great. Let’s get some rest and make plans over breakfast. Come on, the guest room is this way.”
Adi lent Griffith an oversized T-shirt to sleep in and showed her where the bathroom was. She even found a new toothbrush in a cupboard.
“Okay, I think you’re set. See you in the morning,” Adi said. The medication was making her woozy and she was desperate to lie down.
“Good night,” Griffith said.
Adi slid into her bed, wondering about her unexpected guest and their conversation. What was that about? I planned to stop this and now I’ve gone and opened myself up to her even more. Do I want this? Can I trust her? Adi wanted to trust her. She liked Griffith, the way she made her feel. When Griffith smiled at her a warm rush of delicious tension washed over her. She liked that feeling, craved it. If she could just keep Griffith out of her past and here in the present, she’d get more of that.
What would it be like to kiss her? Adi imagined pulling Griffith against her and looking into her green eyes. So green they were like those times out on the bayou when the sun hit just right and light cascaded through the water. The depth of the water, and those eyes, seemed endless. If she leaned her head, just so, she’d meet those full red lips. Would they be as soft as they looked? I bet they’d be softer than a kitten’s belly after a nap. And warm. They’d be warm, for sure.
Adi knew the kiss wouldn’t be the childish pecking she’d done with Rachel. It would be full and deep. A real kiss. One that could open so many possibilities. Her body flushed with anticipation of the imagined kiss. She ran her hand up her belly to her hard nipples and teased them. When I kiss her, it’s going to be a beginning and I won’t stop it. I’ll let it come. She’ll kiss me back and she’ll press into me with her whole body. I’ll feel her full breasts against mine. Then I’ll slide my hand down her back, to the top of her jeans, then over the round curves of her ass and pull her harder to me. Adi let her other hand slip into her pajama pants. She felt Griffith touching her, and she touched herself as she imagined it. She bit her lip to stop the sounds that wanted to slip out as she crested the wave of passion the images evoked. She stilled her hand and drifted in the haze that followed. I have to kiss her.
Griff’s reason for being there resurfaced, and the pleasure drained away in an instant. She’s not going to let it go. It’s what she does for a living. I can’t be mad at her for that, but she’s dangerous. If only the past didn’t exist. Shoot, if she doesn’t like that I won’t tell her about my life, too bad. I’ll just keep us both in the here and now. Adi tried her best to push away the doubts, but they were hard upon her. She tossed and turned for a long time before finally falling into an exhausted sleep.
*
Adi stumbled blurry-eyed into the kitchen the next morning, the smell of homemade biscuits a siren’s song. She saw Bertie had gone all out today, as grits and sausage fought for space on the table.
“Morning, sunshine. Don’t you look all bright-eyed and bushy-tailed today,” Bertie said. She was standing at the stove with a hot skillet ready for eggs.
“Morning. Is the coffee done?”
“Just about. Go on and pour us out a cup. Best get the sugar down and the cream. Lord knows that city gal ain’t going to be set for chicory. We gots to sweeten it up for her, you know? You want sunny-side up or blindfolded?”
“Blindfolded, please. Why don’t you sit down and let me do that?”
“No, ma’am. Not with that hand all bandaged up. I cooked breakfast all my life. Won’t hurt me none to cook a couple more. What’s the story with that hand?”
“I don’t know. The knife just slipped,” Adi said.
“Slipped? All by itself? That’s as true as the sky is purple. What really happened?”
“I was distracted. I don’t know why, but I can’t get Griffith out of my head. She takes up all my thinking space these days.”
“For real?” Bertie clicked her tongue. “Mm, mm, mm. That sure enough is a shame. Seems like she’s a mighty nice gal to be cluttering up your mind and making you hurt yourself. Why do you suppose that is?”
“That’s just it. I don’t know. I mean, she makes me all quivery. Like a hound dog’s found a squirrel in my gut and isn’t gi
ving up the chase. Plus, she scares the living tarnation out of me, cause she wants to crack open my past.”
“So the hound dog? He ain’t a part of the fear? He some other kinda thing?”
“I guess so. He’s more about how it feels when she’s close to me. How I feel, you know?”
“Praise the Lord, I know. I ain’t had that feeling in a month of summers, but I remember it like it was yesterday. Sure enough. So, who’s gonna win? The hound dog? Or that big ole gator from the bayou whose been living in your closet all your life? You going to let the gator swallow you up this time? You’re all grown up now, and if that man comes around here trying to make trouble for you, he won’t get nothing but trouble back,” Bertie said.
“You say that, Bertie, but you don’t know him. You don’t know what he’d do. He’s pure evil. I can’t lead him here. I can’t ever let him find me.”
They heard noise in the hall and stopped their conversation.
“Good morning. What smells so good?” Griffith asked.
Adi wondered if she’d overheard anything. I hope not.
“Just a little bit of breakfast to start out the day. Good morning. Sit on down and tell me how you like your eggs.”
“Wow. I don’t usually eat breakfast, maybe just a piece of fruit on the way out the door. I guess I’ll have them the way Adi is having them,” she said.
“I’ll pour you some coffee. Cream is on the table. Sugar?” Adi said.
“Oh, I’ll take it black.”
“You sure? This is coffee and chicory. It’s an acquired taste.”
“Let me acquire it, then,” Griffith said.
Adi shrugged and poured her half a cup. She figured that would leave plenty of room when Griffith decided to add the cream and sugar. She watched as Griffith inhaled the potent fragrance and sipped. When she took a deeper pull and then sighed in contentment, Adi was surprised.
“This is delicious,” Griffith said.
“Not many folks have that reaction the first time they take chicory black. You must have had lots of strong coffee before.”
“Well, truth is, I’ve had coffee all over the world. This isn’t nearly as strong as Turkish coffee, but the chicory adds a nice bitterness.”
“Really? Where’d you have Turkish coffee? In LA?”
“Actually, in Marrakech. I was interviewing the owner of a textile mill there a few years ago. That was strong coffee.”
“I guess. Want me to fill you up?” Adi felt her face flush as she thought about what she’d just said.
Griffith gave her a long, slow smile before answering, dimples highlighting each cheek. “Sure, thanks.”
“Don’t hold back now. Them grits won’t eat themselves, and Adi will eat it all if you don’t jump in,” Bertie said. She slid a plate with two perfectly cooked eggs in front of her.
Griffith took a modest amount of each item and grinned when she saw Bertie eyeing her plate with a frown.
“That isn’t enough to feed a crow. It’s no skin off my nose, but I’m not making more, so I hope you took your fill.”
“I did, I promise. I’m not much of a breakfast person. This looks so good, though.”
“Hmm.”
“You two have big plans today?”
“T’s closing the Pot today. He’s getting the bathrooms painted and doing some repairs, so I’m going to take Griffith to the Tabasco factory. She ought to get a kick out of it.”
“Yeah, she will. So now I just have to figure out what I’m gonna do with my day off. Maybe I’ll get Jose to come help me get the garden turned so we can plant next weekend.”
“I could do that for you,” Adi said. “That’s always been my job.”
“No, not with that hand you can’t, and Jose is going to need something to do. You just have a fun day with Griffith, and me and Jose will take care of things around here. He’s a good man.”
“He’ll want to be paid, you know.”
“And? You don’t think I can afford him? What do you think he’ll charge me?”
“Aw, I don’t know, Bertie. I just feel bad not doing it for you.”
“Never you mind feeling bad. I’m going to pay him with the peaches we put up last summer. That and the promise of his share of fresh vegetables. I’m sure he’ll be happy with that. He’s almost like a son to me. Don’t you worry none.”
“Okay, but the fall garden is all mine.”
“Deal.”
“Well, I’ll earn my night’s keep by doing these breakfast dishes. Any tricks to your machine?” Griffith said.
“That’s nice of you, Griffith. No, the machine is pretty straightforward. I’ll leave you to it. Time for me to take my morning pills. You girls have a good time today.”
“Thank you.”
Bertie left the room as Adi and Griffith cleared the table. Adi scraped the plates into the trash while Griffith rinsed them and loaded them into the dishwasher.
“What about the pots?” Griffith said.
“Bertie likes to do those herself. She’s always afraid I’ll mess up their seasoning.”
“But if they’re clean, what seasoning…no, never mind. I probably wouldn’t understand. I guess we’re done here. I’ll go back to the hotel and shower and change. Should I come back here after?”
“No. I’ll come by in about forty minutes. If you aren’t ready, I’ll wait in the lobby.”
“Okay. See you in a bit.”
Adi watched Griffith walk out to her car. She liked the way the sun glinted on her hair. She wanted nothing more than to run her fingers through the mass of curls and feel their weight. As Griff opened the door she looked back at Adi, her heart-shaped face broken by her dimples.
“See you soon,” she said.
“Bye,” Adi said. She was starting to really enjoy having her around. Last night’s conversation was weighing heavily on her mind, though. How could she keep Griffith from discovering her past? She needed to figure that out. Would she get that kiss today? Her heart raced and her palms began to sweat. Can I do this? Can I start something with her that might end up destroying me and everyone I love? Is it worth it? Maybe I need to find out.
She turned back to the house, thinking critically about what she’d said last night. She had sounded so naïve and juvenile, asking her to keep her secret. That must have taken her down a few notches in Griffith’s book, who clearly made no excuses for her sexuality. She hadn’t even flinched when she brought up her attraction to Adi. And…wait. Damn. In her medication-induced state, had she mentioned Dulac?
Panic hit like a Mack truck, knocking Adi on her tail. She grabbed the porch rail to steady herself. What had she done? If Griffith connected the dots and found out about Dulac and J.B., Adi would have no choice but to run, as far and as fast as her money would take her. J.B could not find out where she was. That was a stupid mistake. She felt weak, her stomach turning sour at the thought of what might happen. She had to hope Griffith had missed her comment. She slumped against the wall. I don’t want to run.
CHAPTER NINE
When Adi arrived at the hotel, Griffith walked out to meet her.
“Hey, great timing,” she said. “It’s only about a half an hour to the island. I checked and the factory is bottling today.”
“Awesome. I was hoping to see that.”
“Are you a Tabasco fan?”
“I pretty much like all hot sauce, but I’ve never seen it made before. I saw on their website there’s a Jungle Garden as well. Why are you laughing?”
“I wouldn’t get your hopes up. The garden is pretty nice, but not very exotic. It’s mostly live oaks and egrets.”
“But they said there’s a sacred Buddha.”
“Oh, he’s there. Don’t know how sacred he is, but you’ll get to see him. Maybe more gators too. Don’t get me wrong, it’s really lovely and all, but not very jungle-y.”
“So no tigers in the bamboo?”
“Ah, no.”
“Shoot. Now I’m disappointed.”
&n
bsp; “You’ll get to see lots of pepper plants and some great old buildings. The country store is cool too.”
“Well, okay, but I’m still bummed about the tigers.”
“Yeah, me too. We could see a black bear, so there’s that. You can find something to listen to on the radio if you want.”
“I’d rather just talk.”
“Okay. What shall we talk about?”
“Let’s talk about why you’re afraid of your past. Could we do that?”
“Griffith—”
“What? I’m serious, Adi. What is it in your past that has you so tense? Why did you run away? What were you running from?”
Adi sighed, and Griffith worried she would turn the truck around and take her back to the hotel.
I’m just doing my job. I’m not going to give up, no matter how long it takes. I need to get her to open up without breaking the tenuous friendship we’re developing. And if we can’t have a friendship because of my job, so be it.
“Look, I don’t have anything to hide. It’s just old stuff. Stuff that damaged me as a kid. It took me a long time to get past those hurts, and I just don’t feel ready to reopen the wounds. Do you understand?”
Griffith felt there was more to it than that. She had learned a long time ago to follow her instincts. The best stories came from asking the big picture questions, and she needed to know the root of Adi’s fear. Every nerve in her body was tingling with that familiar sensation that came with a complex story. This is something real. Something deeper. I can’t give up. If I can just get her to see that, I can help her put her demons to rest. Kids ran away all the time. There wasn’t anything new in that. But if Adi’s reason had been simply having shit parents, she would have said so. The fact that she didn’t say so meant there was more to the story.
“Kind of. I understand what damage abuse does. I’ve dealt with survivors before. You can trust me. I don’t want to bring anything to the surface that’s going to hurt you. That’s not why I’m asking. I feel like there’s something holding you back, and that makes me uneasy. I want to understand why you have to hide, but I can’t if you don’t give me information to work with.”
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