King of Her Desire

43

One of my "brother/cousins," Tug, aimed a huge, scary looking hunting bow right at me as I got out of Gerri's Rover and said, "Strike a pose!"

And all the other guys he'd been showing off to got a big old guffaw out of that. But then Mima threw open the screen door so hard it slammed up against the outside wall of the trailer.

"How many times I gotta tell you to quit pointin' that thing at people," she barked. "Go check the smoker'n' see if that brisket's tendered up yet. If you'd'a put it on when I told you to, we wouldn't be waitin' all day for it to get done—Shoshoni, bring that child on in here! Little ones are on their way back from shoppin' with one o' the in laws. They'll be back directly."

I must've looked pretty mortified, because Sochi smiled up at me and said, "Is okay. No problem."

And she managed to maneuver her way around the big rocks and divots and broken toys and whatnot to get to the steps, even with a big old tres leches cake in her hands.

Eight layers of cake she was holding onto, topped with all this fruit and stuff. Mima just grinned when Sochi presented the carrier thing to her. And she walked inside hugging that cake to her like it was a newborn baby or something.

"Girl, you know I been wantin' to learn how to make this cake my whole life!" she told us. "Had a neighbor would sell you one for special occasions. And I musta watched her do it a thousand times, but mine never come out as moist as hers—y'all git up'n' let this child seddown!"

All the other cousins and a few uncle/daddies and auntie/mommies I didn't recognize at all started scooting around trying to make room on the old ratty looking leather couches in the livingroom. But a couple of the women got all grumpy about it and started glaring at us like they were almost daring us to sit down.

They looked kind of glassy-eyed, those two. All of them looked like they'd just jumped out of bed that morning and trudged over to the house in whatever jeans and t-shirts they picked up off the floor.

And you could tell they were itching to get after me. Crabs in a barrel, my family. Clawing at anybody who tries to fight their way up.

Mima gave a loud "tsk" and said, "Just bring 'er in the kitchen, Shoni. Pull her a stool up to that island there. They been smokin' that damned...whatever it is—begged me to let 'em come see you'n' now they're too high on that shit to even think straight!"

I looked at Sochi again but she just took my arm, sailed on through and sat on that stool I gave her for about two seconds before hopping right back up again and asking, "I can help?"

"Sure would love some o' that frybread," Mima said. "Wanna learn how to make that, too."

And Sochi laughed and said, "Very easy!"

"To you it is, 'cause you been doin' it since before you could stand up good, probably."

"They don't really do frybread down there, Mima," I said. "She learned it from someone they met up here years ago. They sold it on weekends to make ends meet, her and her mother."

"Well, she makes it better'n' any I ever had. Real light and soft."

The back door opened and my uncle Roy, Mima's husband, came in. Which was a big surprise since he was almost always in this other old trailer out back sipping beer and glowering at the TV like he was mad at the people on it or something.