A Place to Stand

by Meg Farrell

  As the sun continues to set, I notice the crowd changes from the elderly and family mix to more of the younger tourist and party crowd. I decide I need to figure out where I’m staying tonight or for however long I think I will be in town. The girl cleaning tables seems kind, and her friendliness with the customers makes me think she might be the right person to ask. I wave her over and introduce myself. Her name is Mandy, and her accent is striking. We talk about the best places in the city to see different things, and tours I should take. Finally, I feel comfortable enough to let her know I’ll be staying in town for a while, and that I’m traveling alone. She suggests I go about a block away to Dauphine Street and stay at the Maison de Luxe.

  I leave my car where it is and walk to the hotel. Her recommendation is on-point. The building is old, but not decrepit. The desk clerk is friendly, and we talk about my needs. I bargain for a reduced rate to stay a full two weeks. After I get into my room, all I can do is stand in the window and watch the people below. I’m hypnotized by the lights of the busy streets, and I imagine story after story as I continue to ponder life here. After I inspect the amenities in my room and begin to feel sleepy, I remember I need to go back for my car. The hotel has parking, and I can store the car for the duration of my stay. I heave a sigh and eventually convince myself to go take care of business. I slip my wallet in my back pocket and leave my purse in the room. Reluctantly, I tie my sneakers and head out.

  Music is spilling out from the clubs and restaurants I pass on the way back to my car. Mostly jazz, zydeco, and country. There are even musicians in the street. They are extremely talented. Something about the vibe of the street party makes me forget about being tired and about going to get my car moved. It’s hard to walk through these streets without feeling a desire to shake my booty. Street vendors are telling fortunes and others are selling miscellaneous souvenirs. I wonder if their wares are voodoo-related or perhaps the key ingredients to a spell you could cast on someone. Perhaps they could give me a spell to help me forget the pain and misery my life has been recently. The reality is they are likely selling knock-off tourist items. They probably source them overseas and sell them as “authentic.”

  There are hawkers trying to draw people into their clubs. One interesting fellow is dressed in an old black suit with his face painted like a Dia de los Muertos skull. He isn’t yelling to get the attention of people walking by. He isn’t flattering ugly women to gain their attentions. No, he is quiet. He is dancing to the music coming from the club. I watch him for what seems like an eternity. He never tires or seems exhausted by his dance. Peeking in the doors of the club, I can see the sway of the crowd inside. Their movement is curious. Like a single consciousness moving through all of them. The music they dance to is hypnotic. Without a thought or even a decision crossing my mind, I head toward the entrance. It’s as if my body has no power to walk away. It pulls at me from the center of my being, and I need to be a part of it.

  I immediately blend in with the crowd and find myself surrounded with people I’ve never seen. Yet, somehow, we are sharing this moment together. We sway, and I sometimes spin. Hands grab for me and either support me from spinning out of control, or just steady me in the sway. When the song changes, everyone moves back to the tables and bars lining the edges of the dance floor. I feel cold and abandoned without the others. Swallowing my disappointment that this curious moment is over, I go to the bar, order a beer, and settle into a table to watch the crowd. It is sweaty for November, but I suspect that has more to do with the dancing and alcohol than the weather.

  The server is a kind, young man. I make quick friends and ask him to keep the beers coming. He nods and does a great job keeping me with a new one as needed. Men and women both smile or nod as they walk by my table to the dance floor. After several beers, I swallow my regret and apprehension, and join the new flow of people to the dance floor. The music has slowed and is even more hypnotic than before. I close my eyes and give myself over to it.

  A pair of strong arms slides around my waist from behind and a body begins to sway with me. At first, panic wells up in my throat, but I quickly push it down. This is what the fresh start is about. Exploration. We continue dancing, never changing positions. I sink into the body behind me and it is a firm, strong place to rest. I reach up my right arm up and place my hand on the back of a sweaty neck. A mouth comes near to my ear as I pull on my dance partner. “I love the way you move,” he whispers in my ear. His voice is familiar. Before I focus in on the familiarity too much, I take a huge gulp of my beer and set the bottle on a nearby table.

  Turning around, I chance a look at my mystery dance partner, and I’m floored. I start blinking rapidly as if something is wrong with my vision. I’m hallucinating. I have had way too much to drink. It can’t be. He can’t be here. Not now. No. I shake my head and back away from him, bumping into tables and knocking over drinks. I push through the crowd to get to the door. I burst onto the street and breathe in a huge rush of cold air. It is so cold that I get chills.

  “This is not happening,” I scream into the night.

  “It is happening. Come back inside.” I spin and see him clearly under the street light. Cade. “Come back in, please. Or we can go somewhere else. We need to talk.”

  “The fuck we do! You need to disappear again. It’s too much. What did you do, follow me? You know what I was going through. I let you in, and you destroyed me. Why should I do anything you want?” I’m screaming at him. There are about a million things swimming through my buzzed brain. Bubbas are stopping on the street to watch this play out. They are prepared to help defend me against Cade.

  There’s no reason to, though. He hasn’t done anything to hurt me. But their stance is telling.

  He shakes his head. “Please, Rhae. Jesus, I didn’t mean to hurt you. Please talk to me.” He looks contrite, but I just don’t know what to do or what to think.

  “No!” I’m still screaming. “No,” I say calmer, hoping to let the bubbas know it’s okay. They get the hint and move along. Cade better know I saved him an ass whooping.

  Cade looks like he’s going to ask to talk again but drops his head and shakes it. He seems defeated. He approaches me slowly and reaches a hand out to me. Before he can reach me, I spin on my heel and take off toward my hotel. I may not be a fast runner, but I did it. I ran. I reach the elevators and head to my room. I never look back. I don’t know if he followed me or not. Did I want him to? No! Of course not. What the hell?

  I flop back onto my bed and huff. I lay there staring at the ceiling for a long time. Memories of our dance at the club seep into my mind. I had to know it was him. My drunken fling idea wouldn’t let me pay attention to the fact that his body knew mine, and his voice. I lay there, trying to calm my breathing, and eventually close my eyes. Air in, air out. Air in, air out. I settle into a rhythm, and eventually fall asleep.

  I wake myself up screaming and slap a hand over my mouth as to not get hotel management called. Taking a few deep breaths until I feel like I can trust myself again, I drop the hand covering my mouth. I wince as the sun hits my face like a laser beam. Holy hell! Ouch! Oh, that’s right, heavy drinking, dancing, Cade. Shit! My body and head feel like shit. I get up and shower since I slept in my clothes from the day before. I have to dress in the clothes I slept in because I never did move my car, and all my other clothes are in there. Shit! “Nice work, genius!” I say to myself in the mirror. Quickly, I pull my hair into a small ponytail on the back of my head and then put my sneakers back on. I grab my wallet and put my keys in my pocket.

  As I step off the elevator into the hotel lobby, I’m frozen in place. Standing by the front windows looking around is Cade. Shit! I backtrack to the elevator and start to consider if there are any other exits from the hotel. The clerk notices me and obnoxiously asks, “Is there something you needed Ms. Peters?”

  Cade jumps to attention at the mention of my name and starts toward me. What a bitch! I hate that clerk. “No. Thank you,” I bite b
ack at her. She looks embarrassed, but self-satisfied at the same time. Bitch. I look up and Cade is less than two feet away from me. “Hey,” I say in a voice that sounds too small. Too quiet.

  “Hey,” he answers. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m sorry? Am I what? Okay? You mean, after you didn’t call, didn’t text, and stood me up? Oh yeah, fine. Dandy.” I’m far more sarcastic than I intend to be. I almost feel bad. But then I think of those weeks of pain and regret, and I can’t find it in me to care if I feel bad or not.

  “I deserved that,” he says, staring down at his feet. “I was hoping you might let me explain.”

  I don’t say anything. Mama once told me not to be afraid of silence. Let the silence stretch and see if anything shakes out of it. It does.

  “Can we please go somewhere for breakfast? Let me explain. Please?” he says almost begging.

  “This is not what I came to New Orleans for. I’m over you. I’m living my life on my own terms. I do not want to go talk with you, and there really is nothing to talk about. You said all you needed to say back at home when you disappeared.”

  “Jesus, woman! You are the most stubborn thing I have ever dealt with. Please, for just one meal, talk to me. I’ll even buy.”

  His frustration tickles me, and I can’t help but laugh at him. “I have to move my car first,” I say without any true expression on my face.

  “I’ll do it. Tell me where it is and give me the keys.”

  “Well, I need my luggage brought in too. You gonna do that for me?”

  The clerk adds her two cents, “Oh, the bellboy can do that for you.” Why is this bitch paying us so much attention? Then I notice she is smiling a little too brightly at Cade.

  I turn to her, annoyed, “Really. Thanks.” I hand him my keys.

  Cade laughs. “Be right back. Don’t run off.”

  “Uh, excuse me. Running off is your move, not mine.” I shake my head and make my way over to the lounge and have a seat. What the hell is going on? Why is he even in New Orleans? Let alone sneaking up on me in a club and showing up here this morning. This makes no sense. I don’t hear from him for what, two, maybe three weeks? I don’t even know. I quit counting. Now he is trying to be all “knight in shining armor.”

  By the time Cade comes back with my luggage, I’m extra pissy. I nod to the bellboy who comes over to help haul my stuff to the room. Cade waves him off and then takes my hand. “I’ll carry it up.”

  I roll my eyes so hard it hurts and yank my hand out of his. I consent to his offer because I don’t want to cause a scene in the hotel lobby. We go to my room in complete silence. I stand at the door to my room. “Give me my luggage. I need to change so we can go have this talk.”

  “I’ll take it in for you,” he offers.

  I put my hand flat on his chest to stop him, big mistake. The contact with his body makes me weak in the knees. I manage to regain my thoughts and say, “No. You are not welcome in my hotel room.”

  “Rhae, stop being hard-headed. Let me take this in for you. I’ll put it on the bed and leave.”

  The thought of Cade being near my bed and in my hotel room makes my heart race and my breathing quicken. My brain starts to short-circuit. Shit! I’m angry at him. I can’t feel this way.

  “Put it down and leave,” I say and my voice cracks nervously.

  He grins, and I feel tingly in all the wrong places. Or maybe they are the right places. That damn white T-shirt and blue jeans does things to me. I open the door and enter the room, holding the door open for Cade. He comes in behind me and heads straight for the bed. I close the door.

  Cade turns to look at me and like he might be about to say something but stops. I walk over to him and, with a few inches between us, I breathe in his smell; it’s delicious. Just as I remembered. He reaches out and strokes my cheek with the back of his hand, and I drop my chin as he does. Using his finger, he lifts my head, so I look him in the eye.

  “I am so angry with you,” I blurt out. “I mean I hate you. Really. Hate.”

  “I know. I’m sorry,” he says. He’s sincere. My knees are gooey, and I’m leaning toward him.

  Cade wraps his arms around me, one hand on the back of my head and the other around my waist. He draws me into a massive hug, but he doesn’t squeeze. He holds me there until I melt into him. I hate that I’m so drawn to him. I feel a resurgence of anger, and when I’m about to push him away, he tightens his hold on me. At first, I struggle because I’m at war. My heart wants to stand here with him, and my brain wants me to say, “Fuck you,” and run way. As a compromise, I place my hands on his chest and try to push him back a step.

  “Cade. Stop. I can’t. I can’t be here with you like this.”

  “What? I’m just hugging my friend,” he answers innocently.

  “Friends. That’s right. How could I forget?” Anger swells in my chest, and I push him away even harder. “You don’t want me,” I spit the words at him.

  “Don’t fight me, Rhae. You know what I mean. We never said we were...”

  “What, Cade? We never made declarations. So, I’m still only a friend? Is that it? Is that what you wanted to talk to me about? Being your friend after you shit on me?”

  “No,” he says, wounded.

  “Then what do you want from me?” I turn my face to see into his eyes again, and he kisses me. A mix of rage and panic fills me, and my body betrays me. I melt into his embrace and kiss him back.

  I guess Cade is winning the war in my brain. I knew he would. It was pointless to think it could turn out any other way. Desire surges through my body, and I push up on my tip-toes to close any distance left between us. He reaches down and lifts me in the air as if I weigh nothing. A small squeak escapes my lips, and I wrap my legs around his waist. He holds me for a few minutes as he kisses each of my cheeks and my forehead and then leaves a trail of kisses down to my neck. He buries his face in my breasts and kisses my chest. I’m not sure what kind of sound leaves my mouth, but it is nothing coherent.

  Cade laughs. “Did I find something you like?” I can hear the smile in his voice.

  “Shut up,” I snap. The fact that I’ve given in to my lust for him is annoying.

  He chuckles. “Yes, ma’am.”

  He drops me on the bed and continues kissing my neck and chest. I throw my head back and arch towards him when he abruptly pulls away.

  “C’mon. We need to talk. Let’s go.” He holds his hand out to me.

  “What!” I say, feeling bereft.

  “I said we needed to talk. I can’t do this until everything is fixed between us. It’s not right.”

  My breathing is still heavy, and I feel like I was just robbed of dessert. I tug on his hand to pull him back on the bed with me. “Yes, you can. We’ll talk after.” I demand.

  The look in his eyes tells me I might be close to winning this battle, but then he shakes his head. “You have been in a dry spell far too long. You know you’ll feel shitty if we don’t fix this mess first. Let’s go. Brunch is waiting.”

  I growl. “You owe me big time. You know that, right?”

  “I know. I’m good for it.” He flashes that devilish grin I love so much.

  Reluctantly, I slide off the bed and storm for the door. He always gets his way. Fucker.

  Cade and I walk around the corner to a little cafe he suggests. He whispers to the hostess, smiles and takes her hand. We are then led to a table for two in a darker corner of the cafe. In fact, I look around and there is no one else seated in this section.

  “Ask for some privacy, did ya?” I ask.

  “It’s necessary. You might try to kill me. Don’t need witnesses.”

  “You’re planning for me to have a violent reaction?”

  His expression is serious. “There’s a lot to talk about. Coffee?”

  I smile because he knows what I need. Cade orders drinks for us, and then we order our food. Half way through our meal, he clears his throat. “Okay, let’s get into it.”

&n
bsp; “Can I finish my food first?” I know when things get really intense, I’ll lose my appetite.

  “Well, that will delay our return to your hotel room. But if you would like to finish first, we can do that.” He smirks.

  Heat rushes into my face, and I know he sees it. “Talk. I’ll eat.”

  Cade lets out a bellowing laugh, and then he starts, “I have thought over this conversation for months. Actually, I’ve been running some of this through my mind since the day we met.” He takes a drink of coffee and I shove another bite of Belgian waffle in my mouth. I’m watching him cautiously when he says, “I love the way you eat. In fact, that’s the heart of what I need to say to you. I love you.”

  Did he drop the L-bomb on me? And he waited for my mouth to be full to do it. I keep chewing and trying swallow. My eyes are watering from the effort.

  “Are you choking or crying?” he asks, concerned. All I can do is shake my head.

  “Neiver,” I manage around all the food in my mouth. After I swallow, I repeat, “Neither. Maybe choking. Go on.”

  He nods. “I love you. I do. I have spent all this time thinking through the hell that you’ve been living in since you lost your husband. Not to mention dealing with the shitty secret affair he was keeping from you. Somehow, you still managed to wake up every morning and move forward.” He pauses for some coffee. “No one would have blamed you if you wanted to lie down and wallow in it. You have more right to wallow in self-pity than any person I’ve ever met. I would have let you if you needed it, but you didn’t. You are the very definition of a survivor.”

  He takes a moment before continuing, “When my grandfather passed, I went to my grandmother and demanded she tell me what she saw for you. I needed to know life would move forward for me too. I hoped she would tell me that you and I are destined to be together. All I wanted in that moment was to run to you and fall on my knees and cry and beg for you to have me.”

  Stunned, I say, “I wanted you to, but I didn’t know if it was right. I’ve been a tangled mess of emotions, and I wasn’t sure what I was feeling. I wanted to be wanted, but I didn’t know how to handle that.”