Blessed by Night

- New Orleans, Louisiana.

Inside of a newly renovated cafe, people were jam packed into the space.

The line traveled all the way outside the restaurant and into the street where folks from various walks of life had come to enjoy a little slice of heaven.

New Orleans isn't like other American cities.

Due to the frequent jeopardy of hurricanes due to it's positioning on the map, the state is no stranger to tragedies.

Perhaps because of that reason, this place had the most survivors out of every other state in the U.S..

They also were the quickest to rebuild, and even though they were still a ways off from a full return to normalcy, construction was nearly fully complete. Within the next two months, it would be as if nothing had ever happened.

But the people here were already celebrating. A strong and vibrant culture had persisted despite the terrible circumstances thrust upon them.

And even though they did mourn their deceased, those remaining lived on knowing that they had certainly come out of this tragedy better than most.

Inside the cafe, the air was rich with the smell of savory spices and elusive sweets.

Standing in front of the counter was an old woman who, despite looking up in her years, was still as lively and full of energy as the kids teetering around outside.

She was apparently plenty crude, too. Every third word out of her mouth was some kind of crude swear in either plain English, or creole.

She took orders from the customers in one breath, and then in the next yelled over her shoulder with every square inch of lung capacity.

"Lemme' get a alligator po' boy up front, dressed up all nice and sent right on down the line!"

As the man in front of her backed away to pursue his order, two more customers stepped up to the counter.

"Place looks good, Mama Devereaux. I'm glad to see Father Time ain't slowed you down none."

Martha Devereaux would be lying if she said she recognized these two at a glance.

Part of being a well known pillar of a community is that a lot of people know you, but that doesn't mean you always know them.

"I'm sorry, cher… Who you kin to again?" The old woman asked in a polite voice.

The white haired girl touched her chest like she'd been wounded.

She turned to the young man beside her and tapped his chest abrasive like. "Ain't this something? Crazy how family only recognize you when you're holding sugarcane and your teeth crooked."

A lightbulb triggered in the old woman's brain.

She saw the silhouettes of two young children through the ages.

Both cute, both mischievous, and both with crooked little teeth.

There was almost no sign of them now. They had blossomed into beautiful handsome adults and just the sight of that was… too much for her.

She covered her mouth to keep from sobbing as she walked from behind the counter.

She bit back her tears as she held out her welcoming, doughy arms.

Malachi and Aisha stuffed down their own tears as they embraced her without hesitation.

And even though everyone else in the restaurant had no idea what was going on, they cheered and applauded anyway.

-

Neither Malachi, nor Aisha are related to Martha Devereaux by blood.

But by this point, they may as well have been.

Malachi and Aisha's parents had a history of cutting class in high school to drive down to New Orleans and celebrate Fat Tuesday.

While in Louisiana, they never went a single visit without stopping by Mama Martha's cafe for a dozen beignets or a hunk of king cake.

Though the trip usually only lasted a day or two, they'd somehow drive back at least 10 pounds heavier.

It was a tradition their parents kept up through college, through marriage, and of course when the kids were born.

Mama Martha was always partial to Malachi's mother because they were both full blooded Haitians.

When she learned the old woman's favorite treat was sugar cane, she began to make it a habit to bring her some every year.

She noticed when the group stopped coming to visit. It was one of those gaps in your life where you don't really recognize how much it means to you until it's just a distant memory.

"I always thought…" Mama Martha dotted her eyes with a tissue as she shook her head. "Non, that don't matter none now."

She grabbed the duo by each of their hands and gave them a reassuring squeeze. Her palms were hard and calloused- belonging to a woman who had worked in hard labor all her life.

"All that mattters is that you two are safe and sound. And that you…" Mama Martha's eyes twitched in confusion as her eyes landed on a rather disturbing sight.

"Ki sa ki tout kaka sa yo sou kou ou?"

Malachi's face almost lost all of its color as the old woman blatantly asked him 'what is all that shit on your neck?'
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"Umm… birthmarks?"

The old woman snorted. "Birth marks? Boy I changed your diapers. I know every crease and crevice you got and thems are brand new."

Malachi cleared his throat and crossed his legs out of discomfort.

He kind of figured that Mama M wouldn't like his new 'birthmarks' because he knew his mother wouldn't like them. It's why he had strictly stuck to phone calls over the last couple of weeks.

He didn't know what would happen to him if his very Haitian mother saw the markings that looked very close to tattoos on his neck. Or his face…

"They came with his powers, Mama M." Aisha explained.

"Powers? He's one of them super mens?" Mama Martha's eyes could have popped out of her head.

Aisha and Malachi would have been perplexed by her lack of knowledge if they weren't already aware that the old woman didn't even own a tv in her home.

And her cellphone? A Blackberry even older than both of them.

She wouldn't get rid of it even if someone tried to buy her a new one. (And many had.)

"He's alright… I'm a bit more super than him though." Aisha cockily flipped her hair back.

"Her power is jumping to conclusions in a single bound."

A vein bulged in Aisha's head. If he wanted to go low, she would go all the way to hell.

"…Malachi had a baby out of wedlock."

Malachi almost choked on his lemonade.

"Aisha's stuck her fingers in more women than a veteran gynecologist."

"Malachi is marrying eight different women!"

"She's marrying four!"

Mama Martha sat and stared back and forth between the two young adults with an unreadable expression.

Eventually, she let out a heavy cackle and slapped her knees in amusement.

"You two are still something else. It does my heart good to know that even after all this time you're still taking care of each other."

Mama Martha reached across the table again and took both of their hands gingerly.

"I need you both to do a little favor for me, and it's real important, ya hear? Don't lose this. What you got right here is important, and there ain't no recreating it."

Aisha smiled fondly. "Of course, we know that. Neither of us are going anywhere."

Mama Martha just shook her head.

"Take this seriously, chile. Y'all are adults now. You both got big lives full of people who're gonna want all your time. But you gotta remember to make time for each other too. Y'all practically came into this world together. God willing, y'all gon leave it together."

Malachi and Aisha felt that they'd somehow let a simple message escape them.

Each of them were married to more than one woman. Malachi already had one child, and Aisha was expecting two.

They hadn't exactly thought about what that might mean for their ability to hang out down the line. Ideally… they would like to keep the traditions going that their parents had started. And see their own children repeat that.

But bonds like that don't just happen because you want them to. You have to make them work in the same way you might a relationship.

And Malachi and Aisha had never really thought about it like that before.

"Hold on. I got something for y'all to take on the road." Mama Martha slid outta her seat.

After she left, Malachi and Aubrey stared at each other awkwardly for a moment.

"You know you'll always be my brother, right?"

Malachi grinned. "Of course. And you'll always be-"

*Bang!*

The entire table shook at once when Mama Martha dropped a large brown bag onto the table.

Malachi's nose was filled with the scent of confectionery sugar and fried dough.

"Three dozen beignets for the road!" Mama Martha smiled proudly. "Use a napkin so you don't mess up all these fancy clothes you got on, ya hear?"

Malachi shivered. "Mama D… we didn't order those."

"What was that, boy?"

"I mean, thank you very much, I'm sure they won't even make it to the car."

"That's what I thought."