SUSUMBA’SBOOKBAG July 2016
Lettuce Sharon Millar
“Maybe you can take me one day.” “Yes,” she hesitated for a second. “Yes. I can.” She’d been just four years old in 1969, she told him. Occupying the earth for the equivalent of a breath. Just think. 5,400 years ago, someone was buried here. She did not usually talk like this but there was something in Dylan’s attention that drew the words out. They were working on a kitchen midden, carefully sifting and looking for potsherds and small bones. Clues to meals that had been prepared and served. They’d worked all day carefully bagging and documenting small fragile finds. She told him about the time they had come upon the remains of a cachalot whale on the Manzanilla coast. Unusual. They were accustomed to otters, manatees, and water rats. But a whale? “Strange to imagine all the cooking that must have happened here,” she said. “All the meals eaten. It’s such a human thing. To eat with people. To feed the ones you love.” “Do you cook?” he’d asked. “I used to. Not so much anymore.” It was just past four in the afternoon when the shout came down the line. That’s it for the day. They’d hugged before saying goodbye. A quick short hug. “Don’t forget you have to take me to see Banwari Man,” he’d said over his shoulder as he walked towards his car. “I won’t,” she said. “See you soon.” She took the long way home, coming back via Mayaro and Manzanilla, wanting to see the ocean. Here at the Ortoire river was the gentle swing onto the main road that passed the fishermen hawking red fish and lobster. And soon the crisscrossing of wavelets where the Nariva River ran into the Atlantic sea. In the old days, Elise would have stopped for lobsters but Seb did the cooking now and she was sure he didn’t know how to cook lobster.
Seb was relieved the food was out of the way. It had gone better than he imagined. The roast was perfect. The potatoes not overdone and the broccoli salad not too wet. The introductions had gone well but he’d been surprised to find that Elise and Dylan knew each other. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d met him?” he whispered, catching her in the kitchen. “I didn’t make the connection,” she said. “Honestly, I was just as surprised as you.” He knew her well enough to see she was lying. “Hurry, it’s time to get the dessert on the table.” And with that, she was out the door, bright and smiling. “A toast to the chef,” said Elise, raising her red wine high. “And a toast to new friends. Welcome to Trinidad.” When Seb looked at her, she was flushed even though she’d only had two glasses of wine. “Yes, a toast,” said Kate. “To many more dinners on your beautiful island.”
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