by Andi Loveall
After a minute, the feeling in the room really did shift. Then again, maybe he was the one shifting. If someone had told him a year ago that he would be smudging a vegetarian kitchen to preserve the vibrations, he wouldn’t have believed it.
Raven opened the door to let the smoke out and snuffed the sage on the back step.
“So we agree,” she said. ”Here in the kitchen, we create a clean environment. We lay all negativity to rest. And last but not least, the most important of all the rules …”
She paused, looking between them with eyes ablaze.
“Here in the kitchen, we are all artists.”
It gave Devin chills, and he knew he was into something good. It was cool learning things from a legitimate witch doctor who danced about in colorful robes and swirled burning sticks of magic. She was a mage of the mountainside, moving around the kitchen doing ten thousand things at once and never really trying at any of them. He couldn’t recall the last time he saw a human being so completely immersed in their element. He didn’t have an element, and he wanted one. He had writing, and he was trying to have travel, but the more time he spent in the kitchen, the more he started thinking that cooking could be a possibility too. At first, it was just a lot of prep work—container after container of garlic, piles of lettuce, greens, and vegetables. There was nothing artistic about prep work—it was just doing. But all the washing and chopping was relaxing. He had been on the wrong side of the restaurant all those years. Serving food was complicated and very often sucked. Making food was simple, and for whatever reason, it just felt right.
She taught them a bunch of different things, like how to make greens crispy on the skillet, and then alternatively, how to use them raw. She taught them how to make her famous creamy vegan ranch dressing, which consisted of soaked cashews, vinegar, and herbs. He had always considered himself a connoisseur of Ranch dressing, and he was floored. It was even better than the stuff they served at the restaurant, which was made with buttermilk and this weird chemical-laden powder flavoring, and even though he would never admit it in front of Raven, that stuff was pretty damn good.
There were quite a few visitors throughout the morning. The neighbor, Tone, showed up around nine thirty, doing the obligatory back and forth with them in a silly Southern way before banging three times on Walter’s study door and being let in.
A short while after he left, good-weed Casey showed up. She was a copper-haired woman in her forties or fifties, with a KISS t-shirt and metal spikes in her ears. Devin wanted to ask about pot, but she arrived out of breath and half crying, and after giving him the most awkward handshake ever, she pulled Raven outside to talk. An hour later, they came back in, her puffy eyes hidden behind giant sunglasses.
“Sorry you guys, I’m not always like this. Ask him—am I always like this?”
“Nope,” Lucius said. “Anything we can do to help?”
“Baby, I wouldn’t even know where to begin.”
She stopped at Walter’s study, also doing the knock. She was in and out in less than ten minutes.
Around eleven thirty, there was a guy named Abe, who had a long gray ponytail, tie-dye shirt, and big bulging belly. He seemed shy and polite, and when he arrived, Walter was out front, so they walked in together. They stayed in the study for at least an hour.
“It’s not always this crazy around here,” Raven said. “Casey is having a bit of a problem with a boyfriend right now. Abe is our veterinarian.”
“Is one of the animals sick?” Devin asked.
“No,” Raven said, appearing confused.
They fixed vegan pho soup for lunch and prepped a zucchini salad for later. Being in the kitchen with Raven made him feel like a kid again. He remembered being six or seven in the midst of their mother’s baking phase. For a while, every day there were brownies, pound cakes, angel food cupcakes with strawberries and whipped cream, and other goodies. Most of the time, she let him and Michael help, which to them meant running around at her feet like wild puppies, tripping over each other, and causing disarray. At some point, Leon usually intervened, threatening to throw the whole batch in the trash if they didn’t calm their asses down. Their mother was always so patient, just like Raven.
“Tell me, Lucius,” she said as they were doing the dishes. “Why aren’t you and Panky together?”
“Yes,” Devin said. “This is what I want to know.”
“There is no reason why. We’re just not.”
“Have you ever tried?”
“Trust me, we’re better as friends.”
“A non-answer will be taken as a yes,” Devin said. “Just so you know.”
“She likes you, anyway.”
“ … She told you that?”
“You’re such a little guy,” Lucius said, smirking. “You should see your face.”
“Shut up,” Devin said. “Why you trying to change the subject, huh?”
“Leave the boy alone,” Walter called from the study. “He’s taking an aspirin, remember?”
“What does that mean?” Raven said.
“A break from women,” Walter said, coming out to join them. “No more headaches!”
Walter’s low-pitched laughter made Devin and Lucius laugh too. Raven scoffed and went back to what she was doing. Walter swooped her into his arms and wrapped her up so she couldn’t get away.
“My love, if being with you means having a headache, I’ll crack me skull with a ball-peen hammer.”
He started begging her for kisses while she cutely said no until she eventually gave up, and they started making out and touching each other all over. It was weird seeing a guy older than Leon be so affectionate. Leon had never shown his wife any measurable sign of adoration in Devin’s presence. Some screaming and cursing, yeah. Some time without fighting as well, but it was always quiet time. Television time. Reading time. Leon didn’t kiss her on the lips or even get close enough to try. He definitely didn’t smack her on the ass in front of company, like Walter had done twice so far today.
The back door squeaked open and Cora appeared.
“I’m stealing one of yours,” she said to Raven as she crossed the room, taking Devin by the arm.
“Just don’t lose him,” Raven said.
“I need you to drive me into town,” Cora said, raising her voice as they walked out of the room. “Walter gets real pissed if I drive since I don’t have a license.”
“Oh, okay. No problem.”
“Bye guys,” she yelled, going out the front door and jogging up ahead of him on the path. She was wearing leather boots and a white tank top, her hair all tied up in a messy bun. Her ass was a toned masterpiece in a pair of little brown shorts, and he was as happy as a human could be.
When they got to the car, she went for the driver’s seat.
“I thought you didn’t want to drive,” he said, going around to the other side.
“I said Walter didn’t want me to drive.” She hopped in, looking at herself in the rearview mirror before putting on her seatbelt. “But what he doesn’t know won’t hurt him. Anyway it’s my car.”
“But you don’t you have a license.”
“Don’t worry, nothing will happen. I’ve driven a lot without a license. I’ve been driving since I was thirteen. They never catch me.”
“How’d you lose your license then?” He got his seatbelt on.
“Too many tickets.”
“So they caught you.”
“Yeah, but they only caught me when I had a license. When I drive without a license, they never catch me. Probably because I drive better.”
He just blinked at her.
“You don’t have to come,” she said. “Just do me a favor and hide in the woods until I get back. Walter has to think you drove me.”
“I want to come.”
They rolled down through the valley with the windows open, enjoying the cool wind and singing along to some good REO Speedwagon that was blasting on the radio. He looked out at the beautiful world and breathed d
eeply. The air was sweet like flowers and freshly cut grass. A lady walking her dogs smiled and waved, and he waved back, feeling like one of the shiny-happy people on the antidepressant commercials.
“You know it’s weird,” he said. “I’ve only been on the mountain for a few days, but I can already feel it changing me.”
“You goin’ country,” Cora said, deepening her southern drawl. ”Ain’t ya?”
“Yessum. Who knows, maybe I’ll just stay that way. I could damn well be one of them old guys, sitting on his porch, chewing on a straw. My bloodhound sleepin’ at my feet. My shotgun leaned up against my rocking chair. My tobacco-spittin’ cup gleaming in the sunlight.”
“No! You’ll be an old guy who does yoga.”
“Oh, miss, I sure don’t know much about any of that there flexy-bendy Hindu magic, but I tell you what—that smile of yours makes me happier than a plate of frozen bananas on a warm summer day.”
She cracked up laughing, and the car veered a little. He grabbed the wheel.
“Road!” he said. “Road, that direction!”
“Will you relax?”
She zipped them through a sharp curve, just squeaking by. His grip on the armrest tightened. They reached the end of the road and did a rolling stop at the corner. A car darted past them, honking furiously.
“I wasn’t in your lane,” Cora hollered, glancing at Devin. “I wasn’t in his lane.”
“We’re going to die, aren’t we?”
“Not today,” she teased, making crazy eyes at him.
They went down the main road into town, hitting every light on a green until they finally approached a red. She gunned the car forward, getting closer and closer …
“Cora. Stop! That’s not funny!”
She started into the brake, lurching him forward. The seatbelt pressed into his chest. When they were almost at a stop, the light turned green, she floored the gas, and for a second, he was weightless.
He slammed back into his seat, trying not to scream like a little girl as they veered across oncoming traffic and into the entrance of the parking lot. She wove around pedestrians and other cars, finally halting neatly within a space near the entrance.
He held a hand over his thumping heart. “I’m driving on the way back.”
“You’ll have to fight me for the keys.”
“Oh, I’m okay with that.”
“You’re a dork,” she said. “I was only going like five miles over the speed limit.”
“I thought you said you drive better when you don’t have a license?”
“I did drive better. I have to go a little over the speed limit. Otherwise I’ll look like I’m hiding something.”
They got a cart and went in. It was weird being out in society again. The noise, the smell of cars, the fluorescent light, the rows and rows of processed foodstuffs—it all felt projected, as if everything was a hologram and they were the only two warm bodies.
“So, what exactly are we shopping for?”
“Oh you know, just stuff that we can’t get from Raven—like caramels and potato chips.”
“I like the sound of you.”
“Don’t tell,” Cora said. “I love healthy food, but I’ve thought it over—long and hard—and I decided that on my death bed, I might regret depriving myself of caramels and potato chips. Raven doesn’t feel deprived without those things, but I do.”
“I think you should have whatever you want to eat.”
“I have a thing about pickles, too. Store-bought pickles, not the homemade kind. And it doesn’t mean I’m pregnant—I hate when people think that.”
“Why would you be pregnant?”
“I wouldn’t be,” she said, shooting him a look.
“That’s good, I guess.”
“You guess?”
“Well, yeah. I’d hate to have to challenge someone to a duel to win your affections. Although, I would be willing.”
She smiled. “Random question time … What’s your middle name?”
“Promise you won’t laugh?”
“I wouldn’t laugh at your name. What kind of bitch do you think I am?”
“The best kind,” he teased. “And it’s Solomon.”
“Devin Solomon Ashford? That’s an important-sounding name.”
“I’m an important-sounding guy,” he said. “What’s your middle name?”
“Which one?”
“What do you mean?”
“My full name is Cora Jane Eloise Samantha Cowen.”
“Wow,” he said. “That’s beautiful.”
“My parents were really indecisive,” she said, looking down at the grocery list. “Let‘s see, we also need some lentils, a few cans of olives … Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“What?”
“Why don’t you have a girlfriend?”
“Um.” He scratched his arm. “Because we broke up.”
“Why?”
“Do you want the long version or the short version?”
“Short.”
“I didn’t want to get married.”
“Long?”
“I didn’t want to get married. We fought about it a lot. Then we got distant. She cheated on me. We broke up.”
“Did you not want to get married to her, or did you not want to get married to anyone, ever?”
“Why?” He smiled. “You interested?”
She laughed. “Smooth. Very smooth.”
“I wasn’t ready to get married to her, and probably not anyone at that particular time.”
“Did you dump her?”
“Yeah,” he lied. “I dumped her.”
“How?”
“I don’t know, I just talked to her. Why?”
“You can tell a lot about a person by the way their last relationship ended.”
“True,” he said, clearing his throat to try his best at a Hannibal Lector impersonation. “Quid pro quo, Clarice … Why don’t you have a boyfriend?”
“Because I don’t want one.”
She flashed him a grin and ran ahead. He chased after her, jumping on the cart and riding it down the aisle. A woman darted across his path, sending him crashing into a display stand. Boxes of instant rice thumped to the ground.
“Sorry,” he called out as she scurried away in horror.
Cora peered around the aisle, snickering as he cleaned up the boxes.
“And you want to drive on the way home.”
They continued shopping, filling the cart with everything she wanted, from organic popcorn to chocolate bars. When they found the pickles, she put two of the largest of the jars into the cart.
He brushed past her as they put the stuff on the checkout line, giving her a playful little nudge here and there. She longed for him, he could feel it.
“What do you want to do with your life?” Cora asked.
The cashier, identified by a plastic nametag as “Rhea,” paused from ringing up their purchases and looked up, unsure of who Cora was addressing. Her tired blue eyes and sagging skin didn’t look like they would have an answer. Devin’s heart ached for her, recognizing her vibe all too well. He wanted to shake her and tell her that it wasn’t too late, she could still escape this mundane life and find something more. But he didn’t.
“Besides going to India I mean,” Cora said, digging around in her purse for the money.
“Well,” he said. “I want to write.”
“Why don’t you?”
“I do. Totally. All the time.”
“Cool,” Cora said, counting out exact change. “Can I read it?”
“Maybe someday when it’s done.”
“What’s it about?”
“It’s an expose on snowflakes,” he said, grimacing. “Those little bastards want everyone to believe they’re so unique.”
It made her laugh hard. Rhea just stared impatiently.
“Seriously,” Cora said, handing over the money. “What’s it about?”
“Uh. Well … It’s about being lost in the fores
t.”
She spun around to face him, eyes huge. “I love stories about getting lost in the forest.”
“You do?”
“Yes,” she said, pushing the cart toward the exit. “You don’t even know! They’re only my total favorite. Well, aside from ghost stories. Oh, and stories about women with eating disorders. I like those too.”
“Seriously?”
“Yeah,” she said. “It’s interesting, watching people fight with themselves. Or with the unknown. Or with nature.”
“That’s very deep,” he said, snatching the keys. “Gaffle! I’m driving.”
She giggled, trying to pry them out of his hands.
“You’re not getting them back,” he said.
“I’m not a bad driver,” she said. “You’re hurting my feelings.”
“You’re not a bad driver,” he said. “I’m just looking out for you. Why risk you getting caught without a license when I’m here? It’s stupid.”
“Fine,” she said, handing them over. “Just this one time.”
They rolled back up to the farm at a much safer speed, leaving the noise of the town behind them. Cora sat with her legs up in the passenger seat, hair blowing in the wind.
***
Dinner was a rich lentil soup, a huge salad with crispy greens, and these fermented vegetable sushi roll things that Raven already had ready-made from lunch the day before. She had Devin make the beans, teaching him all of her techniques, like throwing in a bit of olive oil and smashing them down with a fork. The ingredients were salt, cayenne pepper, chili powder, cumin, garlic, and chives. He repeated it over and over again in his head, wanting to make sure that he remembered it.
Cora seemed to like his work, making little hmmms and mmms as she ate.
He almost felt guilty about the things he wished would happen. Not terrible evil things or anything like that. But dirty things. Things that he wouldn’t want to say in front of Walter. If being a few steps down her yellow-brick road was this intoxicating, how was he going to feel once he had been inside of her?
When he looked up from his plate, his eyes landed right on Raven. She was smiling real funny, as if she knew just what he was thinking. It seemed all too possible that she was psychic, and his inner workings were now running across his forehead in bold red lettering like the ticker on the bottom of a newscast: I want to fuck your goddaughter. I want to fuck her sideways, I want to fuck her from behind. I want to fuck her while staring at her and then again with my eyes closed. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her. I want to fuck her.
