My sweet Renée with her dainty fine features. I gave her a feminine style to enhance her Dresden loveliness: long Victorian ringlets, slightly undefined and loose, not anything too tight, with wispy tendrils on her face. I pinned the tendrils back with a perfect little dainty flower pin to go with her scalloped lace organza dress with the pink roses on it. Oh, she looked so sweet and beautiful.
And then there was my Sukey, moving like a madwoman. I was really glad that they were playing Janis Joplin because it allowed her to dance as crazy as she wanted. The straps of her flouncy dress had already fallen off the side so that her shoulders and her back were showing even more.
With her hair, I gave myself a challenge—how to build on her Sassoon and make a more dressy look. I tried to capture a 1930s look with a provocative design. I wanted to revive the classic pageboy by making it very wavy and full, so that it swirled onto her cheek really elegantly. Graceful giant waves that I wove into one fluid line to go with her big eyes and her full lips and perky nose. Oh, she looked beautiful. With that tiny short little dress with ruffles going down the back.
“Suke!” I called out. “Maybe you won’t want to dance so wild if you think about your hairdo.”
Then she looked at me and said, “Hairdo, smairdo.” I could hear her voice starting to slur a little bit.
“I love what you did with your hair, Calla,” Tuck said. “The top almost looks like a princess, the way you pulled it back.”
I was so glad he noticed because I had worked very hard to sweep it back so that it looked like a crown at the top. Princess was the very word I thought of. Then I let the rest of my hair fall down so that I had two layers.
Next, the band played “When a Man Loves a Woman,” and it didn’t matter to me that the lead singer didn’t sing it as well as Percy Sledge. I was dancing with Tuck, and every once in a while, he would lean over and kiss me on the back of my neck. I would look up into his eyes, and he’d smile down at me. He had his arms around me, and I could feel his strength as he held the back of my waist.
“I love you, Calla Lily,” he said. “I’ll always love you. No matter what happens, I’ll always love you.”
Reaching up, I wrapped my arms around his neck as we swayed together, so tender and close. “I love you too, Tuck,” I whispered. “I will love you forever, no matter what happens, no matter what you do. I will always love you.”
We stayed up all that night, fooling around and making out. We had plenty of beer to fuel us, courtesy of Sukey and her two dates. Sukey definitely had more to drink than the rest of us, but that was nothing new. But then Sukey tried to take off her dress while she was dancing on top of one of the cars. I said, “Sukey, just keep the dress on. Keep the dress on. You can dance on any car you want. Just don’t take off the dress.”
“Come on!” she said. “You’re no fun!”
“And you’re a little too fun,” I told her.
“All right, all right, all right,” she said and climbed down from the car and put her short prom dress back on.
Just before five in the morning, we all met at Renée’s to fix our hair and gargle, because we were invited to the Tuckers’ house for an after-prom breakfast with our families.
And what a breakfast it was! Fresh orange juice with champagne, eggs with hollandaise sauce, bacon, tons of homemade ham biscuits, and Miz Lizbeth’s perfect cinnamon toast, which was always crisp and cut into triangles. She had also made her famous cinnamon buns from scratch. And French toast too—she had really outdone herself! Plus, there was coffee, chicory dark roast with cream and two sugars—who could ask for more?
So we all sat down at the long table, ready to eat, except for Sukey. Papa looked over at her and said, “Sukey! You’re looking a little green around the gills, girl. Do you think you’ll survive this breakfast?”
Sukey’s mother looked a little embarrassed. She said, “Um, would it be all right, Miz Lizbeth, if my daughter and I had a cup of black coffee and sat out on the porch for a little while?”
“That would be just fine,” Miz Lizbeth said, like she was sort of relieved.
When everyone was almost finished eating, Uncle Tucker stood up and, gently tapping his fork against an antique champagne flute, said, “Hear! Hear! It’s time for the clique of 1971 to reveal your plans for the future!”
My heart did a flip. Sure, I’d been discussing my plans, but I wasn’t sure if I was ready to make them final by announcing them widely. Plus, I wasn’t sure that the others would understand that Tuck and I had planned to keep our love alive and remain a couple even though we had different plans. We knew in our hearts and minds that eventually we’d be together again.
I looked over at Renée, who looked especially lovely this morning. Her skin was milky, and her white-blond hair was tumbling down now, loosened from the updo I’d fixed for her before the prom, what seemed like a week ago. She must have felt me looking at her, because she looked my way and gave me one of her sweet-eyed smiles. Eddie had his arm around her like she was the most precious thing in the world to him.
“Well,” Uncle Tucker said, “who wants to go first?”
Eddie stood up and looked at everyone with exhausted eyes that might have seen a little too much bourbon. With his glass in his hand, he said, “I’m here to—,” and then Renée tugged at the sleeve of his rumpled tuxedo jacket. He turned to her, and then pretended to knock himself in the head with the palm of his hand. “Oh, excuse me,” he said, “I wasn’t supposed to do this yet. Sorry.”
Just when I thought that this moment couldn’t be saved, Renée stood up, looked down the table, and said, “Mama and Daddy, would you mind if Eddie continued what he was about to say?”
Well, what could they do?
Mrs. Jeansonne just sat there shaking her head and smiling. I had the feeling that, after so many years, she had made peace with who Eddie was—a happy playful fellow who didn’t stand as much on custom as she did.
“Certainly,” she said.
“I’m all for it,” Renée’s father said.
So Eddie announced that they were going to be married, and we all clapped and wished them well. Papa acted like he was shocked at the news, which made me laugh. Nobody was at all surprised by their plans, and I could feel their happiness circle around the table in the Tuckers’ porch.
“You next,” I said, pointing to Tuck. I was so proud of him.
“I’m going away to college,” Tuck said. “I got accepted at one of the universities I applied for.”
Everyone started clapping again. I could hear folks say, “Great.” “Way to go, Snake Boy,” Eddie said. “You done good,” Sonny Boy added.
“Where to?” was the question that folks didn’t realize they weren’t ready for.
“I’ll be going to Stanford University,” Tuck said.
“Where?” everybody asked. “Where is that?”
“I thought you were shooting for University of Virginia,” Will said. Will had been offered a scholarship there, but had turned it down to study with the old Cajun musicians in Louisiana. He said universities would always be there, but that the musical geniuses of our homeland wouldn’t.
“I was shooting for Virginia,” Tuck said, “but—”
“Okay, okay,” Sonny Boy said, “pardon me, I’m just a dumb old country boy, but where is Stanford?”
“It’s in California,” Tuck said.
“California?” Eddie said.
“Near San Francisco.”
“I hear that’s a beautiful city,” Sukey said. “On a big bay. Oh, to go to school so near a big bay! A big California bay.”
“California,” Eddie said, “man, that is where people go and never return.”
That’s exactly what I feared.
“Yeah, right,” Sonny Boy said in a scary-sounding voice, “and they are never heard from again.” Everyone laughed.
“Come on, y’all,” Sukey said, looking at me. “It’s not like it’s Europe.”
No, but it might as well be
.
I was so caught up in that thought that I barely heard Uncle Tucker say, “And Calla Lily, the flower among us, how will you step out into the world?”
Tuck squeezed my hand before I stood up and said, “I’m going to beauty school.”
At first there was this awful silence. Like Tuck had announced he’d won the Nobel Prize and I’d just said I was in the last rounds of the Louisiana State Spelling Bee. I sat down, and I breathed like M’Dear taught me. I can get through anything if I just keep breathing. I looked over at my father, who gave me a wink.
It was Miss Lizbeth who broke the awkward pause. “Tell us more, won’t you, Calla?” she asked, smiling at me with love.
“I have researched beauty training academies across the South and have decided that I do not need to travel any farther than New Orleans for my training. Just as soon as I have enough saved, I’m going to head to New Orleans, home of L’Académie de Beauté de Crescent, the best in the state.”
Sukey said, “All right, Calla!” Then everyone clapped and Papa raised his glass and said, “To the class of 1971!” And we all raised our glasses in a toast.
I looked at Tuck. He put his arms around me and gave me a big smile. I looked at Renée and Eddie and thought, They’re so happy! I couldn’t help but feel a little envious.
After everyone had left, and the sun was rising, Tuck and I walked down to the river, to our pier. We kissed for a while, then just lay back on the dock, our legs dangling over the edge. We watched the thin dancing wisps of clouds change from peach to pale yellow and eventually to white in the soft early-morning sky. Tuck’s arm was under my neck, making a perfect little pillow, and he had his tux jacket rolled up under his head.
“When I come home at Christmas,” he said, “we can come right back to this spot. It might be a little bit cooler, so you might need a sweater. Or I could give you my coat, Calla. If you were cold, I’d give you my coat. If you ever need anything, I’ll give it to you.” He paused, then said, “This Christmas, and every one after that. If you want, Calla Lily.”
“Yes, I do want that.”
“I’ll write you every day, Calla. We’ll be together on holidays, and every summer. I promise.”
A little breeze rippled across the water and broke the still air. Tuck noticed it too and said, “As a matter of fact, I think I better give you my jacket right now.”
“No,” I told him, “I don’t need your jacket, it’s not that chilly.” Then I sat up, gave him a mischievous little smile, and said, “Give me your shirt, though. Your shirt would be just right.” That made him throw back his head and laugh. Then he unhooked his cummerbund, took off his tux shirt, and wrapped it around my shoulders.
Then we lay back down and stared up at the sky again, and I could feel it protect us. The rays of the morning sun worked their way over the trees behind us and lit us up with warm gold light. I leaned in close to Tuck and watched his bare chest rise and fall with each breath. I was happy, and I knew it. Knowing that I had someone who loved me, someone who might be leaving but who would come back to me, seemed as beautiful as the La Luna sunrise.
Chapter 16
1971
June 4, 1971
La Luna, Louisiana
Dear Tuck,
You’re off! Summer school at Stanford. Seeing you off this morning as you got on the bus, I remembered the first time I saw you arrive in La Luna. When the bus pushed off today and I smelled the Greyhound smells, I saw you as a little kid again. It’s funny, huh? Memories, I mean.
By now, you are in the air to San Francisco, California! I can’t wait to hear all about it. Flying across the country and everything.
I’ll mail this first thing in the morning and look forward to receiving your letter.
Your girl,
Calla
P.S. I put a surprise in your duffel bag, so look! xo
Right after graduation, I got a job as a waitress at Melonçon’s Café in Claiborne. I figured it would take me a year to save up the money for three months of living expenses in New Orleans, the car that I’d need there, and my beauty school tuition.
M’Dear and Papa first took me to Melonçon’s Café, and I always loved it. Its double doors are old, varnished wood with heavy, wavy glass in them, and the floors are shiny black and white tiles—a traditional Louisiana place where you feel comfortable right away. It was not a big restaurant—people sometimes had to wait in line—but it was elegant, with real linen tablecloths and sterling silverware.
And the food! We served all kinds of Louisiana seafood, like shrimp, oysters, crabs, and catfish, but our specialty was crawfish. We made them any way you’d want—spicy-boiled or in étouffée, in boulettes, boudin, bisque, casseroles, and cornbread—but our crawfish pie was famous. I mean, it was written up in the Times-Picayune. People from all over Louisiana came to Melonçon’s for the crawfish pie.
I took a lot of pride in making sure that my tables were clean, that the baskets of Saltine crackers were full, and that my napkins were folded just right. I liked to fold them into a fan shape to suggest a scallop shell. The owners, the Melonçons, who made me part of their family, loved this idea. It was a little extra effort, but I felt that our customers should enjoy every bit of their dining experience, right down to the napkins.
June 5, 1971
La Luna, Louisiana
Dear Tuck,
I bet you are there, now—Stanford! I try to picture where your dorm might be, but the brochure you gave me doesn’t say much. So I’m going to just imagine it all. I know you said there was an early orientation for honor students. I just wish I could be there cheering you on!
My job at Melonçon’s Café is going to be even better than I’d thought. The Melonçons are going out of their way to welcome me.
Well, I better go now. Just know that I’m loving you from La Luna!
Love,
Calla
Since I felt that I represented Melonçon’s Café, I always made sure that my nails were short and painted with a light pink polish—something that looked neat but didn’t stand out while I was serving the food. My uniform was always perfectly ironed and starched. It was a shirtwaist dress, blue-and-white checked, and over it I wore a cotton pinafore—a real apron, not those plain nylon jobs that the other places made you wear.
I got some very good shoes, too, thanks to Aunt Helen. But my hardest decision was how to wear my hair, which was halfway down my back. People told me it was beautiful when I let it flow loose with its waves cascading down my shoulders. Most of the time I wore it in a long braid, but I felt Melonçon’s called for something more fluffy. So I ended up wearing it in a high ponytail. It’s funny, I always thought about other people’s hair but I rarely thought about mine, even though folks told me that it was lovely. I took my hair for granted most of the time except when I looked at it in the mirror and thought of M’Dear.
Anyway, since we were near the courthouse in Claiborne, I’d gotten to know a lot of lawyers who came for lunch. They’d call over, “Calla Lily! How are you blooming today?” I’d go on over there, and often it would be Randall S. Beaumont III. “Hey, the Third!” I’d call him. “How’re you doing?”
“Miss Calla Lily, I’m doing fine. Why don’t you bring me two of those good crawfish sandwiches? Tell Mister Melonçon that his grandson will be okay. He wasn’t driving under the influence; he was just driving fast. And I’m going to get him off before you know it.”
One Sunday the café was closed so that the Melonçons could celebrate their thirtieth anniversary. I helped serve, and there was so much laughter and kissing and hugging between Mister and Mrs. Melonçon and their seven children and all their grandchildren. It was so inspiring to see such history and family in one room.
Renée and Eddie came in a few times to visit while I worked there. One night they came just for cocktails. Just to look at them you could tell they were married, the way they easily held hands. “Calla,” they said, “tomorrow night, on your day off, could you
come over for dinner?”
“Sure,” I said. Now, I didn’t know why they were making this dinner so special. I was at their house all the time, a darling little house that Renée was fixing up in the most colorful way. They had saved money for it by skipping a big wedding and getting married at city hall.
So the next night we had dinner in the small breakfast room that Renée painted so pretty with buttery tan walls, to match the kitchen. She had cooked a great meal, and for dessert we had carrot cake. I was already on my second cup of coffee and piece of carrot cake.
“Calla,” they said, “we wanted you to be the first to know, after our family.”
“Know what?” I said.
They held hands, and Renée gave me a big smile and bit her lips for a moment, just like she always did when she was about to burst out with something. And she said, “We’re going to have a baby!”
“Oh!” I said, getting up and giving Renée a kiss. “That’s so wonderful!”
“Hey,” Eddie said, smiling, “don’t I get a kiss? I did have a small part in this, you know.”
I turned to Eddie. He suddenly seemed so much more—oh, I don’t know how to put it—substantial. They both seemed so grown-up.
“Of course you deserve a kiss,” I said, and gave him a peck on the cheek.
He smiled at me. “Renée’s lucky to have a friend like you.”
“Oh, I’m the lucky one,” I replied. “I’m lucky to have both of you.”
We all finished our desserts and chatted about the baby. That was the evening when I missed Tuck the most.
June 7, 1971
La Luna, Louisiana
Dear Tuck,
You will simply NOT believe this! Get ready, 1–2–3! Renée is pregnant! They had me over for dinner last night to tell me. Here you and me are, just starting out after graduating—you at Stanford University, and me still getting ready for beauty school. I guess it’s different strokes for different folks, right?!
The Crowning Glory of Calla Lily Ponder: A Novel Page 13
