Gran waved her hand at me and made a gruff snorting noise. “I can’t make catfish with you bothering me,” she complained as she started to rummage through the grocery bag.
A look of panic crossed my face and KP jumped in to rescue me. He gently took Gran by the hand and escorted her to the kitchen table, made sure she was comfortably seated, and kneeled down to make eye contact with her.
“Why don’t you sit down just for a moment?” I swear that man could lead a polar bear to the desert, he was so damn sexy and alluring. “I’m embarrassed to say this, but I’ve never cooked a thing in my entire life. It would be such a great honor if you could instruct us tonight. Maybe then I’ll have something I can make should Caitlyn ever decide to visit me in New York.”
God, why did I want to jump his bones?
“Well, I suppose Caitlyn could use the practice as well,” she said, glaring at me.
“Hey, I can make toast. Back off, lady.”
Gran rolled her eyes. “You’ll need the catfish, breading, eggs… um… just get that recipe box from the counter there and look up beer-battered catfish, and bring me some of that wine y’all bought. That’s the good stuff, I can tell.”
“Gran, are you sure wine is a good idea?”
She grinned big. “You only live once.”
KP opened the wine and poured us three glasses. I got the recipe, and from there, the entire night turned to pure comedy. First, KP dropped most of the egg shells into the batter. Watching him try to fish them out with his perfectly manicured nails was a treat. He hated the texture and tried to be brave, but he gagged a lot.
Then, most of the breading ended up on the floor. He opened the bag of cornmeal and it exploded all over the place because he just ripped it open like a monkey. While frying the fish, we nearly burned the house down. All the time, Gran sat there and watched, telling us not to let one side cook too long, or not to use too much oil, or one of the other eight million steps that went into cooking a damn fish.
“Our family has been making catfish for years, and the buck will probably end with the two of you.” She shook her head and brushed cornmeal off her pajamas. “You two are a mess in the kitchen.”
Deflect. Deflect. “Wasn’t it your grandma from Louisiana who started the tradition?” I asked.
“Yep, Grandma Kate. You’re kind of named after her, only she was a Katheryn and you are a Caitlyn. Anyway, she always said that catfish were ornery things. One minute they were eating up the bait, the next minute they were attacking it. The catfish as a spirit animal is always a duality. They are both kind and defensive, focused and forgetful. A catfish is always at war with themselves until they listen to their inner voice and let it guide them. A catfish will settle down if they listen to their soul.” Gran seemed to be rambling and yet her words were like some sort of mythical road map to a better understanding of ourselves.
Both KP and I were like a catfish — hot and cold, fearful and trusting. As she imparted wisdom in the guise of mythology, we were both mesmerized until she shouted at us, “Don’t let it burn now! And when you’re done, put those in the oven and fire up the BBQ out back so you can roast the corn.” She was a harsh taskmaster.
We put the catfish in the oven to keep it warm while we went outside and helped ease Gran onto the chaise so she could supervise our efforts. KP about burned himself to a crisp when he doused the charcoal with too much lighter fluid. Once that emergency was over, I tried my hand at it. Better. I was winning at this cooking thing.
“Yes!” I gloated. “I’m the cook master!”
To my surprise, he placed a sweet kiss on my forehead, but the look in his eyes could have competed with the fire. “I’m having fun.”
It took everything inside me not to pull his head down and press my lips to his.
“Get the good china out of the cupboard!” Gran ordered.
We smiled at each other, and he went back to the corn while I put out our fanciest plates.
We’d opted for a store-bought pie because I figured it would be too much for Gran to bake one, and I didn’t want to push my luck at the oven.
By the time we had put out the hors d’oeuvres and were ready to eat, Gran was looking weak and feeling tired, so we took the heirloom china plates and sat on the couch together and ate.
“You kids did a fine job on this meal and these little fish baby things are amazing,” Gran said as she took spoonfuls of caviar and shoveled them in her mouth. “Can’t taste much these days, but these little buggers are delicious.”
She almost ate an entire dipping sauce bowl full of three-hundred-dollar an ounce caviar.
“Glad you’re enjoying them,” KP said, grinning, as I looked on horrified.
After we ate and KP poured us a few more glasses of wine, we cleared the plates and spent some quiet time with Gran, as she seemed to be wearing down. But she was still smiling.
“Gran, what movie do you want to watch tonight?” I asked. “KP’s going to hang out with us for a little while, if you don’t mind.”
“He can stay forever if he wants.” She pulled the blanket up to her chin and cuddled in. “How about we see E.T. That’s one of my favorites.”
“Yeah, I love E.T. Perfect.” I looked over to KP. “Is that okay? I’m sure you’ve seen it many times.”
“Actually, not since I was a kid.”
Gran grinned. “Everyone was so afraid of that little alien, but not those kids. They knew he was a great guy. They wanted him to stay, but he really wanted to go home, needed to go home, and he was happy when it was his time.” Although she seemed to be retelling the story, but in typical Gran fashion, there was more to what she was saying.
“I always wished he would come back, but they never made a sequel,” I added.
“They didn’t have to.” Gran seemed to be slipping a little as her eyes started to droop. “Sometimes people… I mean aliens are meant to be gone.”
I shivered. I knew what she meant. “Let’s put on the movie,” I whispered and then I cuddled into Gran.
“I love you,” I said as I held her hand tightly in mine.
“I’ll always love you,” she answered in a small and feeble voice.
We sat there for a while, not saying much as the movie played. I’d forgotten how cute the beginning was, and we even laughed in a few places. My heart was racing and fear was dancing all around my mind. Things seemed too quiet, too peaceful, and I think KP and I both knew what we were facing.
I’d heard about it before. People seemed to magically get better the day they died. It was as if God had granted them one more romp in the sun before the lights forever dimmed. I didn’t think I could bear it, and I didn’t want to face it.
Sometime during the middle of the movie, while I was holding Gran’s hand, her head resting on mine, I could feel the stillness of the air where her breath should have been.
I couldn’t move.
I was suspended in time, lost to the ethers of inertia.