Sins of the Mother
The wind can't hold the simmer of the sun, its looms into a bite of orange. Nanny stands before the heated stove, sweat sprinkled on her forehead. The bright sweetness of candied yams waft into the fabric of the air. Turkey wings smothered in gravy, the peppered collards swimming in an ancient boiler that has secrets in its confines. She peeks out the windows seeing her precious Livvie covered in the grass next to the charming Grant boy, whose namesake is as superior as his jarring looks. There was a kind smile on his face, she could see that he was infatuated. Nanny remembered love, its faint whimper on her skin. A lover's kiss felt like the morning after a honeymoon. Yes, she remembered love and how it touched the moon of your spine. Olivia was her only love, the pearl she had found sinking in the ocean. The ferocity of protection rivaled that of a lioness and her blind cubs. Nanny snooped a little longer satisfied that the teenagers in her front lawn weren't being to handsy with each other, not her Livvie either way. She was quiet, studious, her nose always perched in a book. Nanny took a paper plate fanning her warm face closing the blinds, she tasted the candied yams. The syrupy sweet made her suck her tongue. She felt a weariness absorb her bones take flight in her hips leaving her wishing for her youth. Looking around the quaint kitchen the lemon curtains and baby blue walls she had made a hundred meals in this space. Her mother, her grandmother and great mother all women who had prized a cast iron skill. She found comfort in pie crust between her fingertips could relish in the snapping of green beans. When she cooked Nanny owned the world. She wasn't this clumsy toffee girl with her sister's old dress slipping off her shoulder. Her pantry filled with her prized trophies of pickled vegetables and jams tasting of every fruit. She sold her jams, caramel cakes and peach pies at the local Big Bear and she got a pretty penny for the investment. What she didn't give to the grocery store she sold out of her front door. There was always an order for her famous strawberry shortcake and sweet potato pie, but Nanny didn't confine herself to the mundanity of basic bakery delicacies. She experimented with custards, cobblers and even attempted a lavender cake. She belonged in the kitchen and when she slept, she dreamed of the dough between her fingers, kneading it gently and sometimes she spoke to it softly as if it were a newborn baby.
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"Nanny you got this house smelling divine. I'll set the table." Olivia quickly grabbed two plates from the china cabinet. Nanny playfully swatted Olivia on her behind while she carried the pan of turkey wings to the table.
"I saw you out there getting fresh with that Grant boy," Nanny gave Olivia a playful glare, before motioning for her to get the candied yams off the stove. "He's something to look at aint it," she chuckled. "What's he's doing sniffing around you. He ain't got no debutantes to be chasing after." Olivia grabbed utensils from the drawer before answering.
She bit her lip, exhaling "Nanny he's just a boy. There are hundreds of boys in this town. He just happens to be the one who wants to talk to me." She lifted her head, eying her grandmother casually. Nanny was hard to read. She could be playful then deadly serious. She wasn't ever frightened of her, but she knew when not to cross a line.
Nanny laughed a little, "I just knew them books was always going to keep you company, that's why I fed your appetite for them," She untied her apron handing it to Olivia who dutifully hung it on the hook in the kitchen. "I would peek into your room thinking you were sleeping, and you would have that flashlight." A distant smile framed Nanny's face, she stood before Olivia gripping her chin between her fingers. "You are my precious thing, Livvie. My best thing."
Olivia blinked owlishly, "Nanny, you remember what's it like to like a boy." She kissed Olivia's eyebrow, smoothing her unruly curls down.
"Baby let's eat its clear you got something on your mind." Nanny took a seat at the table.
1 Olivia flipped on the radio it was already set to her grandmother preferred station. Classic soul blaring quietly Al Green crooning to a woman about the virtues of love and happiness. Nanny's hands were outstretched prepared for grace. Olivia clasped them with her own and they recited a quick prayer together. The sun radiated through the windows, Nanny and Olivia politely pouring food onto their plates, the clinking of silverware, the echo of ice cubes, it's a scene as old as any.
"Livvie, baby you get that letter your Mama sent you. I thought I saw you take it to your room."
"Is this your way of trying to ask me what the letter said, Nanny?" Olivia's smile is mischievous as she wipes her mouth.
"Chile if you don't quit it with that smart mouth, you got on you! What am I gon' do with you silly girl!" She gestures toward the pot of white rice. "You hand me that rice and tell me what your Mama said in that letter of yours."
Olivia smile falters a little, "Nanny I didn't open the letter. She hasn't called me in months, and she thinks a letter with her perfume sprayed on the page is supposed to make me feel better. I don't want to hear her lies," She catches her words looks to Nanny who's giving her a chilled stare. Maya Pope was always the elephant in the room.
With her finger wagging Nanny says, "Now Livvie you know I don't like the word "lie" that's not a word we use in this house," Olivia lamely moves the sticky gravy on her plate, her face burning with frustration. "You find another word to express your feelings about your mother. Now she's off in New York City doing her thing, but them clothes on your back is because of her. Everything in this house keeps moving because she send a nice check every month."
The room was silent but for Bill Wither's folksy refrain echoing out in the dining room.
Olivia pushes away from the table, standing quickly. "Nanny I don't want to have this conversation anymore; may I be excused?" She asks quietly without meeting her eyes. Her shoulders sagging and she forces herself to swallow the food that remains in her mouth.
Everything aged a thousand years. The pain for Olivia lingered, chipped, turned her inside out. This wasn't a fair. She had longed for her mother. She was a figure in a photograph, a memory. She was all things, but hardly physical. She looked to her grandmother for approval to leave and Nanny simply nodded her head. There was always this kind of tug of war between them. Nanny heartbroken that her cherished daughter left home with a crying baby for her to look after. Olivia the abandoned child sweeter than the candied yams on the table. They were both mourning, stifled by the past.
Olivia fell apart in her room there weren't any tears just a cold tugging at her heart. Maya Pope lived in infamy. She was the chosen beauty queen of Eatonville, Ga. A pageant doll made from a perfect face, poise, and righteous boldness. Maya had purpose and she couldn't let the sluggish pull of her home city keep her shackled to its frivolity. Not even her own child could keep her still. Olivia was just three years old when Maya left for New York to become a model. She was always running, running from Eatonville, running from her strict mother, and running from her child who had eyes that made her feel guilty. She escaped.
Olivia grabbed Maya's letter from her desk, held the delicate paper in her hand touched it ridges. The Maya Pope wouldn't dare write her words on mere loose-leaf paper. The pages were lilac, expensive. Her eyes scanned the words not really reading anything. Olivia touched the page to her nose and sniffed the flowery scent. There wasn't any shame just a soft pity for herself, and in the quiet of her room Olivia allowed the tears to slide down her cheeks.
AN:/ Wow so the last time I touched this story was in 2017, Scandal hasn't graced our television screens since 2018, why did I come back to this story, its simple. I missed writing for fun! I can't quite make any promises about this story, but I'm working on the next chapter as I type this. Most of my favorite writers abandoned their stories and which is understandable. I rewatched some of my favorite episodes of Scandal and it was very nostalgic and goodness Olitz was a perfect television romance, I just had to explore that again. Sorry that this chapter focused mainly on Olivia and her grandmother, and if anyone still remembers this story, I'm reworking the initial story so it will be a little different from the previous chapters. Also sorry if my writing is a bit rusty.
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