Cook

Encased in the automobile, the sun could not contend with the air conditioning and special cooling features. Roberta and Reginald Griffith traveled with their three boys Frankie, 6, Quincy, 8, and Irv, 12, to their family reunion in Dover, Delaware.

“I hope they have ribs and pig’s feet,” Roberta laughed. “I haven’t eaten pork since college, but I’m willing to change all of that if they’re made right.”

Reginald looked at his wife and smirked. “I prefer the beef ribs. Do we have beef or something?”

“Ooooh, no you didn’t!” Roberta remarked. From their home in Newark, Delaware, they drove with the intent of chewing on some good soul food at Reginald’s parents’ Cash and Dearest’s house.

“Who else is supposed to be there?” Irv asked.

“Your cousins, aunts, uncles….Y'all haven’t even met your second cousins. That should be a boost to your exposure to the rest of the family.”

The vehicle curved around bends and picked up speed and slowed with the precision of a fine chronograph. Irv looked at his brothers who had lost their interest in what was going on outside to their tablets.

“Yes, I know that Mama Josephine’s potato salad will be great. Remember last year she put grapes in it as a gag?! That was funny, though.”

“I remember. We have to remember the pumpkin pie that Uncle Clarence made. Oooh, with just a dollop of whipped cream, you’d be in paradise.”

Roberta sucked her teeth.

The drive seemed to be quite smooth and the timing exact. Reginald’s parents, Cash and Dearest, expected everyone to be at the house around four in the afternoon. The five of them stayed in good time as little if any traffic arose along the stretch of highway. It was a dream. The SUV glided over the pavement like a figure skater. With the sun beaming down onto the transparent roof, they enjoyed the coolness of the air as well as the slight drops of warmth produced by the sun.

“If anything, we’re going to get there early and have to see if the game’s on TV.”

“We didn’t come all these miles just to watch a game, dear. We’re going to meet up with family so we can talk bad about them after we eat and leave and get back in this car,” Roberta asserted.

“Okay, okay. But I’m still going to look at the scores on my phone,” Reginald replied.

“Do what you gotta do,” Roberta said nonplussed.

The trip seemed to take even less time as the car wove seamlessly through the traffic. Two of three boys in the back focused on tablets. While his brothers looked at screens, Irv peered at the window at the different farms and fields of golden wheat that swayed in the wind. He looked up at the cerulean sky with great, pearly puffs of clouds like you would see in a movie with talking toys.

“I’m surprised no one has said, ‘Are we there yet?’” Roberta noted.

“Are we there yet?” the three boys asked in unison to drive home their playfulness.

Roberta laughed. “I hope that cooler in the back will keep my ambrosia.”

“You know it will,” Reginald pointed out. “You make the best ambrosia in the world. They’re going to love it…again.”

“Are you implying anything, honey?”

Reginald chuckled lightly. “What is there to imply? I just stated my opinion.”

“Okay, okay.”

Irv continued to look at the chicken farms, the beef farms, the apple and cherry orchards that dotted the landscape. His stomach churned for the fixings he would soon consume. Given the great weather and the wondrous driving conditions, the family just kept going with the digital radio station blaring out crisp notes and sonorous stylings.

“Egg prices are unbelievable,” Roberta finally pontificated. “I mean twenty-five dollars for a dozen eggs?! That’s unheard of. I know, I know. It’s because of inflation and tariffs and all of that. I’m aware of my economics classes.”

Reginald pulled into the driveway to his parents’ house. It was a log cabin style mansion with wood and glass for days. Other cars had been parked along the street and down the block. Sunlight streamed through the trees. The five of them exited the car and scrunched up their faces. They heard the sounds of pigs oinking and cows mooing. Some chickens clucked.

“What is that smell?” Roberta questioned and put her shirt over her mouth and nose. Cash Griffith found the family getting out of the car.

“Dad, what’s––”

“Look, everyone is in the back. You find your place back there. Roberta! Let me see….Quincy, Frankie, and Irv.”

“Hey, Grandad,” they tried to speak through the ill-smells emanating from the backyard. They heard sounds of slicing as Cash and Dearest brought themselves to the rear of the property.

“How’s my baby?” Dearest asked. “And look at my daughter, I claim that, forget in-law. And my grandbabies.”

“I’m alright, Ma Dearest, but what is going on?”

“You’re cordially invited to our rendition of the family reunion,” Dearest explained. “If you want pig feet, you’ve going to have to catch a pig and kill it, wash it, and prepare it and cook it. If you want a cheeseburger, you’re going to have to slaughter cattle. You get the picture. Get to it.”

"But Ma?!" Reginald protested.

"Don't argue with me. Just get a smock and a machete and join your brothers and sister. Your dawdling will not take away your hunger."

The three boys entered the house. Roberta and Reginald donned their getup and looked like they had been part of a meatpacking line.

"You know if you want wings, you're going to have to catch it by the throat," Roberta reminded.

"I know. I just didn't count on a cookout being a slaughter field."

"It's nothing to it. Just do it."

"Ha-ha. Your little rhyme doesn't do any justice to this situation."

"I'm going after a pig. You heard what Mama Dearest said. 'Get to it.'"