by Anne McClane
9
Lacey padded around the house barefoot in a white sundress. Her resolve from the day before had dissipated. She was back to dreading dinner with Tonti. She thought of all the excuses she could give Tonti to get out of dinner. My parents just came into town. Believable, but Tonti knew them too well to believe that they would keep her from a prior engagement. My brother just came into town. Not believable, and Lacey didn’t want to jinx his upcoming trip by lying about it.
She was worked up, and very hot. She held her wrist to her forehead. Do I have a fever? That would be a legitimate excuse. Lacey smiled in spite of her anxiety when she saw a car she didn’t recognize pull up to the front of the house. Tonti was a drinker and not afraid to use a car service.
She gritted her teeth, grabbed Ambrose’s head with both hands, and said, “Wish me luck, Bro!”
“Woof.”
She slipped on her shoes, grabbed her clutch, and headed out the front door.
Tonti wore a regal expression in the backseat of the white car. Evangeline Richard Becnel Schmidt was the only one of the eight Becnel children, a generation past, to leave bayou country. Her husband had risen through the ranks at Shell, and they had settled into a grand house in Lake Vista over twenty-five years ago. She had been a steady presence in Lacey and Fox’s life together.
Lacey had always figured Tonti would be the perfect stand-in grandmother whenever she and Fox had children. Ever since Fox had died, Lacey felt a pang of guilt, right at the base of her throat, every time she saw Tonti.
She touched her neck as she opened the door.
“Look at us!” Tonti exclaimed. “We look like night and day. With matching feet!” Tonti held out her foot, and Lacey saw that they were wearing the same pair of silver sandals. Tonti wore an explosion of black and silver sequins and flowing layers, contrasting with Lacey’s simple, A-line dress.
Lacey settled in. “Uncle John isn’t coming?” she asked.
“Nope! We’ve got a girl’s night!”
Tonti reached down toward an ice bucket nestled on the floor of the car, pulled out two plastic cups, and uncapped an unmarked container full of a fizzy-looking liquid. Lacey’s eyes widened, and she looked at the back of the driver’s head.
“Child, you have always been so afraid of the world biting you!” Tonti said. “I saw it the moment Fox brought you to us. I suppose once bitten, twice shy. We’ll have to fix that.”
She handed one of the cups to Lacey. “Fleurtinis: champagne, vodka, and pineapple juice. And don’t worry, Hines is my go-to driver and knows I won’t make a mess.” She waved her free hand at the driver.
“Miss Evangeline’s cool,” Hines said. He smiled at Lacey from the rearview mirror.
“When’s the last time you had a girl’s night?” Tonti asked Lacey.
The fated events of the weekend loomed in Lacey’s mind. She tried to appear nonchalant.
“Just this past weekend,” she answered. “You remember my friend Angele? She’s been in town working on a movie. I went out with her and her coworkers.”
“The little Asian girl, right?” Tonti asked. “Your maid of honor.”
“Right,” Lacey said, avoiding Tonti’s gaze. Fox’s entire family, excepting those who still used the term “Oriental,” referred to Angele as “that little Asian girl” or “your little Asian friend”.
Tonti reached into the bucket and grabbed a piece of ice. “And those movie people,” she said. “Were they fun? Did you dance with anyone new and interesting?”
Tonti held the ice to the back of her neck. Lacey wanted to pour the contents of the entire bucket over her own head.
“I didn’t really talk to them much,” she said. “Mostly it was just Angele and me out on the back patio. Patton’s isn’t really a dancing kind of place.”
Tonti clucked. “Child, that isn’t going to get you anywhere. You should broaden your social circle. You need a night of dancing and commotion ’til you walk out and the sun hits you in the face.”
Lacey shook her head, holding on to her full drink. “Truly, Tonti. I think that’s the last thing I need.” Lacey thought of countless evenings with Fox. Too many memories tied up in places all around the city. “At least, not here,” Lacey added.
Tonti looked at her sideways. “Are you thinking of not being here?”
Lacey took a deep breath. “Maybe. But not permanently. Maybe just taking some temporary work that gets me in a new place, a new environment, for a little while.”
“Child, I love that idea,” Tonti said.
“Really? I was a little worried you’d try to discourage me from leaving the city.”
Tonti let out a long sigh. For an instant she was unrecognizable, as if she’d lifted a mask from her face. “Child, you are too young to be living the recluse life you have been. You have no exposure in your job, no social circle to speak of. You are going to come to flower and no one will see it. I can think of no better time than now to consider making a change.” Tonti swallowed the remaining drink in her cup, and the mask returned.
Lacey stared out the window. What did she mean by flower? Was that what was happening to her? She watched houses pass from the car window, searching for a response that did not involve divulging the incident.
“Angele said she could probably get me in on a movie,” Lacey said finally, her voice barely above a whisper. “It would be work that would just go for a few months at a time.”
“Oh, how fabulous would that be?” Tonti said. “You could have a whirlwind fling with some arty type, work out some of your kinks, and come back here ready to get on with your life.”
Lacey shook her head. “Geesh, Tonti.”
“What, child?”
Lacey gave a half smile. “It’s a tad awkward to hear my husband’s aunt talk about me having a fling and ‘working out my kinks’.”
“Your husband’s aunt?” Tonti asked, aghast. “I became your aunt the moment you became Mrs. Marion Fauché Becnel Jr. You could become Mrs. Husbands Two, Three, and Four if you want, but I’ll always be your aunt. ’Til death do us part,” she added.
Lacey thought of her Aunt Sue, her aunt by blood. She did not engender the same style of big, unconditional love as Tonti.
“Thank you, Tonti,” Lacey said, eyes forward. “That means a lot to me, and I know you mean it.”
“Of course, child. Why would I say something like that if I didn’t mean it?” Tonti put her arm around Lacey’s shoulder and relieved Lacey of the pressure of speaking for the rest of the car ride. Lacey got a full update on Tonti’s son Jack and his girlfriend. Tonti enumerated all the reasons she wasn’t convinced she was the right match for Jack.
Lacey felt a new sympathy for the girl, Amanda. She had met her a few times, when her head had still been stuck in her grief cul-de-sac. She marveled at how Tonti could be so accepting of herself, but so standoffish with her son’s girlfriend. She resolved to be more welcoming the next time she saw Amanda.
When they reached the corner of Iberville and Telemachus, Lacey’s drink was still three-quarters full. Tonti rattled around the ice left in her cup, and shoved the nearly empty container into the ice bucket.
“Here, child, give me yours.” She held her hand out to Lacey.
She clucked when she saw how much was left. “That’s shameful!” She thrust the cup back at Lacey. “Drink some more before we have to waste it. I think it’s déclassé to bring it into the restaurant.”
But it’s classy to drink out of a red Solo cup in the back of a car? Lacey thought.
“Really, Tonti,” she said. “I don’t want any more. I’ll have something to drink with dinner.”
“Of course you will.” Tonti held on to Lacey’s cup as she stepped out onto the curb. Hines held the door open for her.
Without looking, Lacey opened her door out onto the street side and nearly hit a car, a taxi, parked alongside. She shimmied out and plastered herself against the side of Hines’s car. The driver of the double-parked cab glared a
t her.
Someone was struggling to open the rear door. Lacey glanced down and saw a wizened woman, tiny and frail, in the backseat.
“Don’t just stand there, give the lady a hand!” the driver barked at Lacey.
Lacey held her hand to her neck and pointed at herself.
“You’re the only one standing in the street, doll!”
Who is this guy? she thought. East Coast transplant?
Lacey stepped toward the door, now open a hairsbreadth. She pulled it open, leaned in, and introduced herself. “Hello, I’m Lacey. May I give you a hand?”
The old woman narrowed her eyes. Her shriveled mouth frowned, but she still accepted Lacey’s outstretched arm. She stood and straightened to the best of her ability, supporting her ninety pounds on Lacey’s forearm.
“Have fun, Miss Esther Mae!” the bossy and unhelpful driver called out. “I’ll be back ’round in a few hours.”
The woman’s face transformed into childlike joy as she turned and nodded at the driver. When she turned her head back toward Lacey, it shriveled back into a small, annoyed grimace.
How does that dickwad get a nice smile, and I get this face? Lacey thought.
She escorted Miss Esther Mae toward the curb. Dickwad driver sped off down Iberville. Lacey felt the breeze of his wake, and the old lady wavered from it.
Once, about a month after Fox had died, when she hadn’t been able to do much but stare out the front windows, Lacey had watched a snail traverse the entire expanse of her front porch. That snail would have already finished his dinner and been on his way home in the time it was taking Miss Esther Mae to move.
Tonti stood on the corner, outside the door, and sipped Lacey’s drink. She beamed. “Talk about being in the right place at the right time!” she called to Lacey.
Lacey shrugged her shoulders. She didn’t feel right. She felt the torturous weight of un-appreciation on her arm anchored by a cold claw. It was the only cool spot on her body. She was consumed by heat, and broke out into a full-body sweat in the ninety-five-degree heat.
Lacey wondered what she was supposed to do with the woman once inside Katie’s. At their rate, it might be tomorrow before they made it.
One eternally long minute later, a drenched Lacey helped the woman up the step. Tonti held the door open. A host rushed up from the back of the restaurant and grabbed the woman from Lacey’s arm.
“Miss Esther Mae!” the young woman with a backless blouse exclaimed. “Your friends are all here; we have your table set up.”
Before Miss Esther Mae let go of Lacey, she turned to her and smiled. Lacey saw a glimpse of the woman she might have been forty years earlier: bright green eyes and a closed-lipped smile. In a voice that sounded much younger than she looked, Miss Esther Mae said, “Thank you, Lacey. You have done me a wonderful service.”
Lacey reached for the only thing she could muster, a rote reply. “Oh!” she coughed out in hoarse tones. “My pleasure. Any time.”
Miss Esther Mae left her, holding the host’s arm. She appeared sturdier, and speedier, than just moments before.
Lacey and Tonti stood at the host stand, mute. Lacey finally broke the silence.
“Well, that was weird. Why am I so hot?” She fanned at herself with her clutch. She looked down and saw sweat stains along the sides of her white dress.
Tonti was still holding the plastic cup. “Here, drink, you’ll feel better.”
This time, Lacey didn’t hesitate and gulped down the rest of the drink.
“Tonti, I’ll be right back. I’ll meet you at the table.”
Lacey didn’t wait for a reply and ran to the bathroom.
The water came out of the tap lukewarm. She cupped her hands and splashed her face, and a cloud of steam fogged the mirror in front of her. She grabbed a paper towel from a faux-brass caddy to the right of the sink and wiped clear an oval in the glass. Her face, neck, and shoulders were bright red. “Jesus. What is wrong with me?”
I’m too young for hot flashes, she thought. She reached for another paper towel, wanting to fix her smeared mascara. In her peripheral vision she saw a small, orange flame growing exponentially in the caddy.
“Jesus!” Lacey said. She cupped her hands again and aimed as much water as they could hold at the fire. The resulting splash made a slapping sound against the wall. She dumped the contents of the caddy in the sink and ran water over them. A corner of one towel still smoldered, a small line of smoke trailing up to her nose. An acrid smell spread through the restroom.
Disaster averted, Lacey thought. She ran water over her fingers, afraid to touch anything else. She gripped the cool porcelain lip of the sink, and stared in the mirror.
“What the fuck is happening to me?” she said aloud.
A toilet flushed.
Oh fuck! she thought. Pay attention. She hadn’t even thought to scope the bathroom first. She looked for a place to hide, but the only other stall was locked from the inside, an Out of Order sign issuing a highly personal taunt.
Just like me, she thought.
The woman who emerged from the stall looked familiar. Well-dressed, surgically altered, with spiny limbs and a protruding mandible that reminded Lacey of an insect.
She was someone’s mother, someone from college.
She gave Lacey the elevator eyes. They finally settled on the paper towel caddy.
“Sorry,” Lacey said, averting her gaze. She scooped up the sopping mess of paper and dropped it in the trash, and replaced the caddy in its original spot.
“I saw a roach,” Lacey continued, ducking into the stall. “I’ll fix everything when I get out.”
She closed her eyes and remained motionless, standing over the toilet, until she heard Praying Mantis Mom leave. Her thoughts raced: Who was she, why did she look so familiar?
Doesn’t matter. Pull yourself together first. Save the rest for later. Lacey unzipped her dress, careful to touch only the metal of the zipper, not the fabric. She let it fall into the crook of her arm, and welcomed the air circulating over her bare skin.
The lining of the dress caught her eye. The entire line of the zipper track looked scorched.
Maybe her eyes were playing a trick; the lighting was poor in the bathroom. Or maybe it had happened at the dry cleaners. She stood for a full minute, trying to empty her mind.
Lacey held her fingertips to her neck. Still warm, but they didn’t feel like they’d catch anything on fire. She zipped up the dress and peeked out the stall to make sure the bathroom was still empty. She examined her appearance. There were no signs of damage on the outside of the dress, save the sweat stains. And as long as she kept her arms down, they were hard to see.
She grabbed some toilet paper and dabbed at her face. She still looked like she had just returned from a ten-mile run. She attempted to dry the wet wall with more toilet paper, with little success. Will Tonti let me go home if I tell her I’m having a psychotic break? she asked herself as she left the restroom.
Lacey was preparing her excuse when she saw Praying Mantis Mom standing over Tonti’s table.
Fuck.
“Lacey!” Tonti said, her expression unreadable. “You know Dotty Trebuchet, don’t you? Matt’s mom? Didn’t you and Fox know him at LSU?”
That was it. Matt Trebuchet was a fraternity brother of Fox’s. Someone who was always a little too good for the likes of a boy from the bayou, much less a girl from Metairie.
“Oh, Lacey!” Dotty Trebuchet said. “I didn’t recognize you! Did you find that creepy crawler? You should let the manager know.”
No sign of elevator eyes this time.
“Oh, I sure should,” Lacey said. “I had a little run-in in the bathroom,” she explained to Tonti.
“Everything okay?” Tonti asked. Her eyes were saying something more.
No, I’m pretty fucking far from okay, Lacey thought. And she felt worse now that Praying Mantis had stolen her opportunity for a quick getaway.
“Yes, all good now,” Lacey mustered.
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Dotty Trebuchet perched over Lacey’s chair. Lacey stood against the wall, her arms tight against her sides.
“I was just telling your aunt about the twins!” she said to Lacey.
Lacey attempted her most genuine fake face and said, “Oh my goodness, I didn’t realize Matt had twins! How old are they now?”
Dotty Trebuchet proceeded to say many things about her grandchildren, including how old they were, but Lacey didn’t retain any of it. Outside, a chorus of cicadas heralded the evening.
The chorus quieted, and Dotty Trebuchet looked at the Rolex on her bony wrist.
“Oh my goodness, I’ve abandoned my dinner party. Okay, Evangeline, I’ll call to get that happy hour set up. We’re overdue!”
“Oh, yes, too long overdue,” Tonti answered. “Wonderful to see you, Dotty.”
Dotty Trebuchet disappeared to the back of the restaurant, and Lacey grabbed her seat as soon as she had flittered off.
“Well, crap,” Tonti said.
Lacey looked down along the sides of her dress. “What?” She sipped from her water glass.
“Looks like I have an unhappy hour in my future,” she said under her breath.
Tonti’s choice of words triggered a spit-take from Lacey, and she felt her overloaded throttle finally ease up. Still laughing, she asked, “If you don’t like her, Tonti, why do you hang out with her?”
“Child, you already know that being part of the world means sometimes having to entertain people you might otherwise choose not to. You can’t expand your horizons being comfortable.”
A server appeared with two glasses and a bottle of something bubbly.
“Oh, grand!” Tonti said. “I took the liberty of ordering this splendid prosecco.”
Lacey took a deep breath.
“Forgive me, child, but you look like you could use it.”
Lacey nodded. She felt marginally cooler. “Tonti, about”—Lacey motioned her head toward the rear of the restaurant and Ms. Praying Mantis Dotty—“well, once you reach a certain age, and a certain station, do you really have to entertain people you don’t like?”
