Page 35 of Easy Rumba

“What do you think, Leo?”

I decide to tease her.

“Accentuates your breasts perfectly.”

“Leo!” she tells me off, and the vendor laughs loudly.

“Just what my husband says when I put them on. It’s why I keep making them.”

“Don’t encourage him. He really doesn’t need it.”

“Lovely, embrace it. He’s a cutie.”

The vendor winks at me, and I jokingly make a big thing of grabbing Elise’s arm to signify I’m a taken man.

Elise and the lady laugh.

“Thank you,” Elise says to the vendor.

We continue our path down the rows of craft booths, and all the while, jazz music plays in the background from a live stage somewhere in the building. We stop another couple times. I buy a lace tablecloth to send to my mamá. I know she likes them, and it will hopefully give her happy memories of the time she spent living here. Eventually we reach the food section of the booths. My nose is assaulted with all the delicious smells. I don’t know where to go first to eat, but my stomach rumbles, telling me it’s interested in the food and getting it quickly.

“What do you fancy?” I ask.

“I don’t know. It all looks so delicious and smells even better. I love Cajun cuisine. I really don’t eat it enough. It’s not the sort of food a Hollywood actress can eat and stay in shape.”

“I guess they only eat lettuce leaves in boiled water.”

“You jest…”

“Then feast away. I’m going to get some of the gumbo. What do you want?”

“I’ll have jambalaya, but can we also get some boudin balls and maybe some calas for dessert. God, I’d forgotten about those deep fried rice cakes, Mama always used to make calas on a Sunday.”

“Of course, why don’t you take a seat at one of the tables, and I’ll get us a selection of things.”

“Thank you.”

Elise starts to walk away, and I momentarily admire her backside again before remembering she‘s probably thirsty.

“What do you want to drink?” I call out.

“Just water, please,” Elise replies.

I watch as she finds a seat for us, and having made herself comfortable, she turns her attention to the Ella Fitzgerald tribute act on the stage. I take a moment to admire her before getting the food. She has the biggest smile on her face, and her body’s swaying to the tempo. She’s definitely mine now.

It doesn’t take me long, and I join Elise at the table just as the music changes to a Ray Charles tribute.

“My daddy always used to play his music on a Sunday afternoon. We’d sit reading books or doing puzzles as we listened to it,” Elise tells me with a hint of sadness in her voice.

“He was a good man, your father—the best.”

“He was. There isn’t a day that goes by I don’t miss him. I wish he could have seen Izzy.”

“I’m sure he’s up there looking down on her.”

“It’s a thought I hold in my heart.”

Elise picks up her knife and fork and starts diving into her jambalaya. She groans with how delicious it tastes. I take a mouthful of my gumbo and make the same noise.

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