The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder

by Rebecca Wells

  January 3, 1972

  La Luna, Louisiana

  Dear Sukey,

  I know you are busy as a bee doing the work of the devil down there in Sin City, but I need you here. It is finally clear to me that you were right. Tuck, who was my angel boy, is a little shit.

  I am so angry with him I could hire some of those scary boys from deep in Nabedaux Parish to drive out to California and make him sorry he ever lived! I would have phoned you, but I am saving my money for my big move. So would you please get back home right away because I need you?

  Love and xoxo,

  Calla

  So Sukey got the weekend off and came for a visit. Saturday night, Eddie was out to play bourrée, leaving Renée free, so I gathered with my girlfriends to try and help me get Tuck out of my heart. Renée showed up with soft new T-shirts and panties for the three of us.

  “It seems every time we get together, we end up in our T-shirts and panties. So I decided to give us new ones.”

  “Ooh, goody!” Sukey said. “I love uniforms.”

  It was a T-shirt Louisiana early January. In the eighties, and humid as all get-out. “He didn’t even bother to send a damn Christmas card,” I said. They knew who I was referring to.

  “Well, you did send him a letter telling him you would never speak to him again. You’re just not over it, are you?” Sukey asked.

  Renée looked at me, then at Sukey, and said, “I have an idea! We’ll just ‘wash that man right out of your hair!’”

  And so the three of us headed to the outdoor shower behind our house, in the middle of the thick trees where nobody could see. We all took off all our clothes. I had never in my life known Renée to be so open about her body. She always had been so modest, but with the pregnancy, that had changed.

  “Wow!” said Sukey, “You are some kind of pregnant! And your boobs!”

  Renée looked down at her big belly, and smiled. “Yep,” she said.

  They then took turns trying to wash my hair. I said, “Please stop, y’all. I don’t like other people washing my hair! I’ll wash it myself!”

  And so I scrubbed and scrubbed, and all the while we were singing at the top of our lungs, “I’m gonna wash that man right out of my hair!”

  It was a good thing we had the house to ourselves. Papa was off at the fishing camp, Will was playing music in South Louisiana, and Sonny was at the movies with Melise. The showers kind of got us worked up, so we came inside, dried off, put on our new T-shirts and panties, and poured ourselves some Cokes.

  “Hey, y’all, I’ve got an idea!” Sukey said. “Let’s get out the yearbook, and start tearing his pictures out!”

  “That’s great!” I said, “y’all come on up to my bedroom.” We all piled up on the big old four-poster bed that had been in my father’s family for decades. I grabbed my copy of the yearbook from the bookshelf.

  “Okay!” I said.

  “Here,” I said to Renée, “Open this sack from the grocery, sweetie.” I handed her a huge sack filled with M&Ms.

  “Great girlfriends-grill-the-son-of-a-bitch food!” Sukey said.

  Renée started ripping the bags open to pour the candy into a bowl. “Rip! Oh, I like that sound,” Sukey said. “That is a very good sound for the business at hand.”

  “Y’all wait a minute now,” I said. “I don’t want to destroy the whole yearbook. Let’s just rip out his football picture, and sit here and eat M&Ms.”

  After we finished downing several hundred M&Ms, I leaned back and said, “Y’all, this has been fun. Well, more than fun, but I’m kind of tired.”

  Renée said, “I am too. This is the latest I’ve been up since I got pregnant.”

  “I’ll only go,” Sukey said, “if you’ll lift up your T-shirt and let me feel your belly.”

  “Sure,” Renée said, and lifted her shirt.

  Sukey put her hand on Renée’s big belly.

  “Me too?” I said, looking at Renée.

  “Yep.”

  And so Sukey and I both pressed our hands and felt a little baby kicking.

  “Wow!” Sukey said.

  “Yeah, wow!” said Renée.

  “Wow,” I said, then turned my head away so they could not see that I was crying.

  After they were gone I reached up on the shelf in my closet, in the back where I had stored the tux shirt that Tuck had given me that early morning on the pier.

  I went down the stairs and out the back door. I walked out to the fire pit, an open area that lay far from the heavily treed area on our property, and put kindling under a couple of thin logs. On top of that I laid the white tuxedo shirt. With it I laid the part of my heart that had been wounded by Tucker LeBlanc. Wounds can be healed, I thought, but I doubted if this one would. Then I let it all go as I watched the flames turn the shirt into cinders that rose up into the January night sky.

  The next morning, I woke up and went to M’Dear’s desk, which Papa had offered to move into my room. I sat down with a hot cup of coffee and, no longer needing to write to Tuck, decided to send M’Dear a little message.

  Dear M’Dear,

  I know that you have probably been wanting to kick me out of town by now. Well, that Savings Bond helps.

  I have decided:

  1. To live my life without waiting for the postman or the phone to ring.

  2. To pack up and get out of La Luna and get myself a career.

  Love,

  Your Calla Lily

  As I was saving my last dollars and planning my move, Renée’s due date was getting closer. I started spending a lot more of my free time with Renée. Each time I saw her I’d think, Well, her belly can’t get any bigger that this. But it would!

  Then, at 5:30 in the morning on February 16, 1972, a sweet little gift arrived in La Luna. Calla Rose Gremillion was born! I went over to Eddie and Renée’s house the night after they got home from the hospital. I couldn’t help but notice how Eddie looked at Renée and Calla Rose, who lay in her lap. The love in the eyes of this muscular man, now a police officer, touched me to see.

  “I love my baby,” he said.

  “Our baby,” Renée corrected.

  “I’m sorry, sweetie,” he said, and kissed Renée on the mouth. “I keep forgetting.”

  “Right, baby,” Renée said. “Now, go on to bed.”

  “Yes, ma’am,” he smiled. “Good night, little mama. Good night, little baby. Good night, Calla Lily. Good to see you again.” Then he headed toward their bedroom.

  Renée and I sat and whispered as Calla Rose slept. One moment the baby was completely silent, then the next thing I knew, she was wailing and squealing.

  “Right on time,” Renée said, smiling as she unbuttoned her soft white cotton nightgown that Aunt Helen had made for her. She opened one side of the yoke, unhooked her nursing bra, and plopped out her full, swollen breast. My goddaughter knew exactly what to do. I heard gurgling, sucking sounds as her tiny fingers found their way around her mother.

  “How many times a day do you need to do that?” I asked.

  “Oh, about a million.”

  I watched in silence and marveled that my girlfriend carried within her all the nutrients that my goddaughter needed to survive.

  Awe. That’s the word, that’s what I feel. That, and a tangle of other emotions. After Renée finished feeding and Calla Rose had given a very unladylike burp, Renée held her in her arms and looked at me.

  “Want to hold her?” she asked.

  At first I was afraid, afraid of the longing in me that might rush forth.

  “Yes, I’d love to.” I sat close to Renée on the sofa as she handed Calla Rose to me. The longing did rush forth. But the beauty of the creature in my arms pulled me back to the present moment. I lightly touched the little tufts of hair on her head, which reminded me of M’Dear’s hair after radiation began to take its toll. Oh, M’Dear. You would be so happy to see this!

  As I held the baby, I felt the weight of her head in my hands. How vulnerable the skull of t
his little one, so newly arrived from the heavens that the baby powder on her body might as well be the dusting of angels.

  “I’m so happy,” I said, biting back the tears. “Here,” I said, carefully handing Calla Rose back to her mother. “I’m just so happy for y’all. This is just how you wanted it. To have a house and a baby, and you did it, not even a year after you graduated!”

  “What’s wrong, Calla?”

  I couldn’t answer her.

  “Come on, Calla. What’s wrong?”

  “Oh, it’s just that I’ve hardly done anything.”

  “That’s simply not true. You have enough money for beauty school now. And you’ve been accepted to L’Académie de Beauté de Crescent. Your mama’s old friend has offered you a place to stay until you find an apartment. You’ll be in a big city and meet tons more people than I’ll ever meet in my life.”

  “Yes, but will I have friends?”

  “Of course you’ll have friends.” And she put her hand on top of mine.

  “It’s just…I miss M’Dear. Just when I thought I was really over her death, Tuck has left me. What is it? Why do people leave me? Do I make them leave?” Then I was crying.

  “You know that’s not true. And Tuck is not everybody,” she said. “You’ve made your decision to go, Calla. Everything’s lined up. It’s time to finally do it.”

  “Well, I don’t feel excited,” I said, forcing myself to lower my voice. “They all leave.”

  So there was my oldest girlfriend, Renée, holding my infant goddaughter in her arms. And there I was, crying on her shoulder. As I wept, I thought about how many kinds of love the heart can hold: mother and child, child and mother, girlfriend to girlfriend.

  I gazed down at Calla Rose for a very long time. I let my tears fall, though not on her. Finally I breathed in and let it circle around my body until it blew out of the blowhole at the top of my head. I will not be a godmother who hides because of a broken heart. I will be a godmother who holds her broken heart in her hands and walks with it without shame. Just holding that broken heart to the next place the river takes her. I will hold my broken heart for you, Calla Rose. For you, the beautiful blue-eyed wonder in front of me.

  CONGRATULATIONS, CALLA, the banner read. When I came over to help clean up Our Lady of the River’s parish hall, I had no idea that I’d be walking into a surprise party—for me! I was leaving for New Orleans in just a few days.

  Everybody was there, including all my friends from Melonçon’s Café. Papa was playing the trumpet with his little combo, and as soon as I came through the door they started playing “For She’s a Jolly Good Fellow .” Sukey had come up from New Orleans, and she gave me a big hug. She looked tired, her eyes a little blurry. Nelle blew me a kiss from across the room. Miz Lizbeth was there, and apologized that Uncle Tucker couldn’t be there because of a cold. My brothers were singing at the top of their lungs. Melise was there with Sonny Boy, and Will brought a friend of his from Ville Platte who makes fiddles. And I was so happy to see Cleveland and Bertha standing next to Olivia.

  “Oh, Olivia!” I said walking over to them, “I’m going to miss you so much.”

  Both Olivia and Miz Lizbeth had become just like mothers to me ever since M’Dear’s death. And just then, I could feel M’Dear’s presence at the party. Papa hugged me during one of the music breaks, and I whispered, “She’s here, isn’t she?”

  “Oh, you better believe it!” he said, and kissed my cheek before the band started up again.

  When they finished playing, I got another big surprise. Aunt Helen whipped a sheet off from a clothesline strung across the back of the hall—and on it were brand-new outfits she’d made for me to wear in New Orleans.

  “Aunt Helen! I can’t believe this!” I’m on the tall side, and with my long legs and short torso, Aunt Helen’s creations always fit me better than store-bought clothes.

  “Calla,” she said, “we can’t send you off to the big city not looking up-to-date.”

  Then Miz Lizbeth and Renée’s mother announced that it was time to eat. Oh, the food! There was shrimp gumbo, chicken gumbo, crawfish étouffée, red beans and rice, cornbread, French bread—you name it. And that’s not even mentioning the desserts!

  I said, “Y’all! You didn’t have to go to so much trouble! It’s not like I’m going away to Paris, France!”

  “Well, what do you expect?” Miz Lizbeth said. “This is a party in La Luna, Louisiana.”

  For drinks, they served punch and Cokes and 7-Ups. But Sukey, of course, had a little flask of something and took a few nips now and then, as did Sonny Boy and Will. Drinking wasn’t exactly encouraged in the parish hall, so they had to sneak outside for little breaks.

  I got a little bit of everything on two paper plates and went to sit with Renée, who was nursing Calla Rose.

  I gave Renée a hug and told her, “I’m going to miss you.”

  “I know,” she said. “You and Sukey were always the closest, and sometimes I felt left out. It’s been really good to have you just to myself.”

  Then Renée started crying, dabbing her eyes with a little lace-trimmed handkerchief.

  “Now, you stop that,” I said. “This is a happy occasion. And don’t you worry—no matter where I am, we’ll always be best friends.”

  Then Papa came over and put his arm around me. He said, “There aren’t any notes I can blow that could tell you how much I love you, Calla girl.”

  The combo was tuning up again, so Papa left to join them. Will, who was holding his fiddle, said, “This old Cajun waltz is for my little sister who’s flying the coop.” He played a waltz that started sweet and sad, then moved into something more lively, the band kicking into gear. Then we all started dancing, me with Sonny Boy as my partner. Even Renée tried it, bumping up against Eddie with Calla Rose in her arms. Nelle made Sukey dance with her.

  When the song ended, Nelle came over and gave me a hug. “Take all the love that’s in this room with you to New Orleans. Study. Play. Become a businesswoman. Remember M’Dear’s Refrigerator Rules. Let yourself become a fine hairdresser so you can do that healing hair work your mama was queen of. Then, if you want to come back here and set up shop, we’re here with open arms, on the river you know so well.

  “I am so proud of you,” she said.

  I’m going away, and I have no idea what kinds of adventures await. I’m setting sail down the Mississippi to the city of New Orleans, in pursuit of my career !

  “Keep your heart open, keep your head on your shoulders, and don’t be afraid,” I heard M’Dear say.

  I felt the Moon Lady jump into my heart, into my suitcases. You could travel the seven seas and still, she’d be with you.

  PART II

  The Moon Lady

  The best way to travel from the tiny, sleepy hamlet of La Luna down to the bustling city of New Orleans is to float among a few high, scattered clouds along the waterways that wind their way south toward the great dark expanse of the Gulf of Mexico.

  Floating to the west, my light is a silvery white beacon tracing the undulations of the La Luna River, a tiny shimmering thread that gives herself out into the Red River. I sparkle on the waters of the Red as it makes a short run southeast to the Lower Old River, which empties into the great, majestic Mississippi herself. So wide and mighty, the muscular Mississippi lazily winds her way south in huge sinuous arcs and bends. As she traverses the flat delta farmland, the yellow and orange glow of lights from farms and small towns accents my quicksilver glistening.

  My rays fall on the oil refineries, steam, smoke, and bridges of Baton Rouge before dipping again into the inky darkness of swamp, bayou, woods, and fields. I gleam down on little towns like Carville, Darrow, and Convent before touching the raven bodies of Lake Maurepas and Lac des Allemands. Up ahead, I unite my light with the shimmering glow of the city that care forgot. The river is now a black snake cutting through the sprawling, gleaming mass of diamonds, emeralds, sapphires, and blinking rubies, spilling all the way to
the edge of the ebony vastness of Lake Ponchartrain.

  I shine down through a few thin hazy clouds, and the apricot-tinted diamonds gradually become streetlights, the blinking rubies transform into the taillights of cars and neon signs. Then my rays leave the peaceful quiet of the cool heavens for the raucous realm of restless humanity in all its forms, honking and shouting, singing and sax playing in an alley beneath the window where Calla Lily Ponder sleeps her first night after her long journey.

  Chapter 18

  1972

  In 1972, as far as I knew, you could have traveled to Paris, France, and you would not have found any finer beauty training than you could get right in uptown New Orleans at L’Académie de Beauté de Crescent. It was one of the finest beauty academies in the South, bar none.

  When I first got to the Crescent City, driving up in the used Mustang I had bought, you could have knocked me over with a feather. I thought that, at nineteen, I was a grown woman, but I quickly discovered that there was so much I didn’t know.

  First of all, New Orleans is so much bigger than La Luna. You could walk down the street here and see people you might not ever see again in your whole life. When I first got to New Orleans, I smiled and said hello to everybody I passed on the street, just like at home. But after a while, I quit doing that. It just wore me out.

  And I couldn’t help but stare at all the different kinds of people out here! Black people who were every color, from sort of a brown paper bag color to jet-black. Beautiful black men and women with blue or green eyes. And hippies. And men that prissed when they walked. And there were people in New Orleans from places like Cuba and Guatemala. I just loved watching people stream by on Canal Street. In New Orleans, if you have a nose, eyes, and ears, there’s no way you can ever be bored.

  New Orleans has streetcars—and don’t you dare call them “trolleys” either, or people will think you’re a hick. And the Mississippi River—whoa! She’s the Mother of Rivers, so huge and mighty. The Mississippi in New Orleans has real ships that sail the seven seas and all the oceans of the world. And the river—it’s higher than the city. She sits up above us and flows on behind the levees while we just live our lives down below.