by C. R. Daems
"I believe his direct intermediates, who the Catholics call saints and we call Loa, are hard to interest and get personally involved. But I'd like to believe that some of us are called to help in human ways." Yes, I was sure of that. People like Eshe, Monique, and, hopefully, me.
"I hope that means I can watch Mambo Renee at work." He took my hand and gave me a warm look.
"Yes. It not like a service in a church or meeting hall. We meet outdoors. There will be my regular congregation who will be participating, friends of those in the congregation there to watch, people who have heard about me and may be thinking of joining, and tourists who were just passing by and stop to watch."
"Can we make a day of it? I'll pick you up in the morning, and we can do some sightseeing before the evening service."
"I'd like that." We left the café after ten and strolled down Bourdon Street and stopped in a few clubs to listen to music and dance. He dropped me home around two in the morning. I was still reluctant to invite him in, and to his credit, he didn't suggest it.
* * *
I had just finished dressing when he knocked at the door. He stood there smiling with one hand full of tourist brochures.
"Unless you already know where you want to go, I thought we could look these over."
"I had nowhere in mind. Come in and I'll make some coffee, and we can decide." As I put on a pot of coffee, he spread out the pamphlets on the table and sat.
"I had a great time last night, Renee. You're a comfortable person to be with."
"It was a nice evening. You made me feel young again."
"You are young. You're still in your early twenties."
"In years, that's true. But with everything that has been happening... Sorry."
"Don't be. I'd love to know more about you, and I'm a decent listener if you ever want a shoulder to lean on."
"Thank you, Jim, but you don't want to listen to me whine."
"Whining can be good. Putting your thoughts and concerns into words sometimes helps to put them in perspective. I'll bet you do that with people in your congregation when they have problems."
"Are you offering to be my therapist?"
"No, but I'm offering to listen because I'd like to get to know you better."
"That's sweet." I put a cup of coffee in front of him and kissed him on the cheek and gave him a quick hug. "My granny dying was a horrible shock. She was more like a mother and friend. Her death left me alone with the responsibility to manage this shop and become a mambo with a congregation. I should have had years to get ready." I sat fighting back tears. "I'm sorry."
Jim leaned over and put an arm around me and pulled me close. "I don't know if your granny can see you, but I'll bet if she can she is very proud of the woman she raised." He handed me his pristine handkerchief.
"Thank you," I said while wiping my eyes. "All right, you pick three, and I'll pick three. If any are the same, we can do those first."
"And if not?" He grinned.
"We can put them in a hat and draw one at a time." I handed him one of the two sheets I had retrieved from a notebook. "Write your selections on this."
We spent the next fifteen minutes looking over the pamphlets. When I finished and looked to Jim, he had his three selections. When I showed him mine: St. Louis Cathedral, New Orleans Museum of Art, and Aquarium of the Americas, he laughed and produced his: New Orleans Museum of Art, Aquarium of the Americas, Saint Louis Cemetery. "I know visiting the cemetery is really a cliché, but it’s so unusual, I’d love to get a close look. You can sure see why they call it the City of the Dead with all the elaborate crypts and mausoleums. I thought it would be interesting to do more than drive by."
I laughed. "I agree. I debated putting it on my list but hesitated because...you being a doctor."
"We don't win them all, and a lot of those people made it to ripe old ages because of good doctors." He tore off four pieces of paper, wrote an attraction on each sheet, and rolled them into balls. Then he picked them up and threw them into the air. When they settled onto the table, he nodded at them. "Pick one."
I did, then him, and finally me. "Seems appropriate for a Sunday," I said, looking at the order of the list: Saint Louis Cemetery, St. Louis Cathedral, Museum of Art, and the Aquarium of Americas. "We won't make them all so it’s a good excuse for another date," I said and felt my cheeks heat. He nodded with a smile.
"An excellent list for that reason if none other."
* * *
I took a flower with me from the bouquet he had brought me, for a special purpose. When we paused at the huge tomb of Vodou priestess Marie Laveau, I laid my modest flower alongside a statue of a monkey, a wedding cake couple circled in honey, and a candle. I doubted Marie was interested in my current trials, but it couldn’t hurt. The rest of the cemetery was interesting, and we spent several hours wandering around reading the epitaphs and admiring the hundreds of statues and above-ground crypts that looked like small houses. Then we visited the St. Louis Cathedral. When we arrived there were no services, and the church was relatively empty, a few people in the pews and a few like us walking around admiring the stained-glass windows and architecture. Afterward, he and I spent a while kneeling in silent prayer. To me, any church is a good place to reflect on your life and seek the comfort of God, or his saints if He's busy.
My life had gotten more complicated since I met Jim. I should have been ecstatic at having finally met someone as nice as him and at having a social life again, but I couldn't help feeling guilty dragging him into my dangerous world. I certainly couldn't explain the real problem and let him decide. I should just send him packing before he got hurt. Loa, if you are listening, I could use some help. I waited in silence. Nothing. Maybe tonight's ceremony would convince him I'm a nut case, and he'd decide to drop me. I wanted him to stay for my sake; I wanted him to leave for his sake.
We decided to leave the museum for another day. After a quick tour of the gift shop, we stopped in at the Gumbo Shop where we had a leisurely afternoon brunch. Jim ordered a roast beef po-boy, and I ordered a blackened chicken po-boy.
"It's been a wonderful day, Renee. I'll drop you at the shop. I need to freshen up and change clothes. I can pick you up and drive you to the ceremony, if you like."
"No, I'll meet you there if you're still interested. The ceremony will start at seven. People usually start gathering around six," I said, giving him an out if he wanted it. After he dropped me off, I washed and dressed—a white blouse and flared skirt, a white tignon wrapped in elaborate folds around my head, and a red scarf around my waist. I felt whole and would have sworn the horsehead tattoo moved in agreement.
I received some smiles and looks from the tourists as I made my way down St. Louis Street to Woldenberg Park. I arrived a little before six-thirty and began greeting people and answering questions,
"Do you mind if we watch?"
"Can we take pictures?"
"What kind of a ceremony is this?"
I didn't mind people watching or taking pictures and let everyone know I'd be glad to answer any questions after the ceremony. By six-forty-five, my regulars were arriving, and I spent time greeting them, so it was well after seven when I entered the pavilion and began drawing the ve've for Legba-Papa Labas with cornmeal. Thanks to my Maman drummer, I now had a Segon and Boula drummer, giving me a complete set. By the time I finished, my congregation had all entered the pavilion, and I began the opening prayer. Next, I drew the ve've for Dhamballah and lit a large candle, for he was known to speak through flame when he appeared. When I finished, the drummers began beating a rhythm, and the dancing began while I chanted to Loa Dhamballah— considered the father of all Loa—to bless them. As happened last time, I became lost in the dance, feeling a connection through the flame to the Loa and from the Loa to my congregation who felt his presence. Some time into the dance, I collapsed. I woke with my head in Jim's lap.
"All you all right?" he asked, looking pale.
"Yes, just tired. Vodou is a dan
ced religion, where the sound is a magic all of its own, which heals and creates the energy to invoke the Loa. It's the mambo or houngan's function to create that energy. Sometimes, it becomes overwhelming, and you feel a Loa is within you. When that happens, it can be exhausting." I was sure he now thought I was crazy, Vodou was Hoodoo, and that was the last I’d see of him. I'd miss him although I thought it best for him.
"Do you want me to take you home?" he asked as he played doctor, feeling my head, looking into my eyes, and taking my pulse.
"You don't think I'm crazy?" I asked. Vodou was a strange religion, especially for people whose services tended to be very structured and solemn.
"Passionate, devoted, genuine, but definitely not crazy—"
"Jim, you're crazy," I said and put my arms around him, pulled him tightly to me, and gave him a long, deep kiss. "Help me up, please. You can hold my hand to keep me steady while I talk with those who have questions."
He helped me to my feet and got a good grip on my arm as we began walking. As I suspected, most of the congregation and some of the spectators felt the presence of the Loa. Some were even deeply moved by what they felt.
"Mambo Renee, I know I saw the serpent on your arm moving, and I felt the Loa's presence. It was the most beautiful feeling I've ever had—like I had been washed clean..."
"Mambo Renee, I've never been to a service where there was so much energy..."
"Mambo Renee, for an instance you looked like you became a flame..."
By the time we left, I was feeling normal. From my discussions with people I might have added a few new members to my congregation. Best or worst of all, I hadn't scared off Jim.
"Do you want to go home or someplace else?" he asked. I guess he had decided I had recovered from whatever had caused me to collapse. "We could go for a drink, and you can tell me more about Vodou."
"You're interested?"
"I'd like to get to know more about the woman I intend to marry," Jim said, giving me a lopsided grin. I laughed, then smiled, then stared open-mouthed. He looked serious. "I didn't mean to scare you. I'm not asking for a commitment from you. Anytime you want to break it off, I'll go, and I won't bother you again. I'm twenty-six years old, and I've had my fair share of relationships over the years. But I've never met anyone that I've felt such a connection with."
"Damn. I think going for a drink is a good idea," I said and laughed while grabbing his hand. "I'm not sure whether it's you or me that needs that drink more."
We stopped at the Crescent City Brewhouse, which was close to Woldenberg Park, and ordered a five beer sampler along with two orders of Brewhouse Ribs. We spent most of the time sampling the beers and looking at each other.
"Your Vodou ceremony was interesting. A lot more...engaging than a Catholic Mass." He took my hand in his. "The people I talked to have a lot of respect for you. I admit I didn't understand what was going on, but it was obvious people came away...changed. I think even the spectators and I felt something."
"Yes, sometimes the energy is more intense and participants feel a connection to one of the Loa, creating a sense of euphoria. The drummers help generate that energy—"
"And Mambo Renee," Jim said. "According to a few of the people I talked to, it's a fascinating comparison between a Catholic Mass and a Vodou service. The sermon is the same, but in Vodou it seems the mambo or...houngan is responsible for helping the congregation connect to God."
"We probably rely more on the Loa...saints to help connect to God. But your observation is at least partly true. The mambo and houngan are responsible for more than just conducting a ceremony. Like a sermon, it can be dull and boring, or exciting and full of life."
"Well, I can attest to the fact that the ceremony, like Mambo Renee, was exciting and full of life."
"Your place or mine?" I asked and smiled at the momentary blank look on his face. "That remark was almost as good as the, I'd like to get to know more about the woman I intend to marry, remark. So in case you're really serious, I need to get to know more about you."
Jim's face turned to a smile, "Yes, I meant both remarks, and I'm serious. My place, as I've seen yours."
To his credit, he didn't rush through dinner and even stayed over coffee to listen to a three-man band playing jazz and blues. We left a little after midnight and drove in the direction of the Tulane Medical Center where Jim worked. I laughed when we reached his condo unit—1201 Canal.
"You don't like it?" he asked as we entered the elevator.
"It's very nice. I was laughing at the coincidence. My friend Ron and his wife Grace live here. They are on the fourth floor."
"Grace... She's the FBI agent who visited you."
"Yes, and her husband is a defense attorney," I said as he opened the door. Like Ron and Grace's unit, you entered into an open floor plan past the kitchen and bathroom into the living room. The single bedroom was off to the right. The kitchen was clean with no clutter, and the living room comfortable with a three-seat beige leather couch, a matching recliner, a couple of tables, and a forty-something LED television. He opened the bedroom door, and I entered. Again, comfortable and no clutter. I turned and put my arms around his neck and kissed him, my tongue probing his. Before long we fell backward on his double bed and slowly began removing pieces of clothing. I was used to men in a rush to get my bra and pants off, so Jim was a pleasant surprise. He seemed intent on exploring every inch with his hands and lips. First, my blouse came off, and he roamed, kissing and stroking my neck, shoulders, and upper chest. Then my bra, where he worked on my breasts and nipples. Then my skirt, where he massaged my hips and thighs, and his lips worked on my stomach. When my pants came off, I was past ready and panting as I finished stripping him. Lost in the magic, we rolled over and over—Jim on top then me... We reached climaxes within minutes and lay panting side-by-side.
"Wow!" he finally said as he looked into my eyes.
"I'll second that thought," I said kissing him on the nose and snuggling closer.
* * *
I jerked awake, hearing an unfamiliar noise, and began to panic as I looked around the strange room, not sure where I was or how I got there. Then I smiled, remembering the love making last night. I was preparing to get up when the door opened, and Jim came in with a mug of coffee and a large smile.
"Is this what I can expect if I give in and marry you?" I asked, trying to look serious.
"If that's what it takes, then yes." He sat the mug down on the side table. "I'm afraid all I can offer for breakfast is cereal, but if you tell me what you like, I'll make sure I have it here."
I shook my head as if to wake up from a dream, or was it a nightmare? I had wanted to get out and socialize and hopefully find a meaningful relationship, and Jim turned up. He was certainly what I was looking for, but the timing was terrible. The Ken and Sheila group made my future uncertain, and being around me wasn't safe for him. They could decide he was leverage, as they had with me and Granny.
"Jim, you're crazy wonderful..."
"But?"
"I'm a dangerous person to be around...firebombing, kidnapping, and..."
"I thought your friend in the FBI... Grace, has identified the group responsible for the firebombing and the kidnapping," Jim said as he sat on the edge of the bed and handed me the mug.
"She has, but the mystery man that freed me must also have an agenda," I said, trying to imply more potential danger without giving him the real reason.
"That woman, I think her name was Oatha, said that you can tell the future. And she believes you can. I thought that strange at the time. It didn't seem to fit your character. You are so...honest." He held up his hand to stop me responding. "I understand you have to make a living and everyone wants to know the future—even me. I’d like to know if you are going to marry me, how many kids..." His grin faded when I didn't respond to his apparent humor, and he saw something in my face or eyes. "Oh...you believe you can see the future."
For once in my life, I would like to be able to s
ee my future. What would happen to Jim if I let him stay? If I could see, would it help me avoid whatever they had planned? My head throbbed like my heart was inside it.
"Jim..." A tear slid down my cheek. I didn't want to chase him off, but I couldn't tell him the truth and didn't want him hurt. "You wanted to find out more about me. Do you want to marry a cheat or a crazy person?"
He surprised me when he rose and walked into the other room. Knowing it was best, I dressed while I finished my coffee. When I entered the room, Jim sat at the counter separating the kitchen and living room, drinking his coffee. He walked over and held my face between his hands looking into my eyes.
"I’ve been sitting here trying to figure things out. I don't understand what is going on, but I know with certainty that you are not a cheat or crazy. Unless you tell me to go, I'm willing to wait for you to tell me the problem or for it to be resolved." He kissed one eye then the other, which were filled with tears. I wanted to scream. I wanted him to stay. I wanted him to leave.
"There is something going on that I can't share with you. It makes me a dangerous person to be around and could well mean there is no future with me. For those reasons, I should refuse to see you again, but I can't seem to do it, although it's the right thing to do. May God forgive me." I wrapped my arms around his neck and stood for a long time clinging to him as if I let go I'd fall into an abyss. He gently stroked my back and held me. "Don't call me...for at least three or four days. We both need time to think." I untangled myself from him and left.
As I walked back to my shop, I could understand how a person could go on a week, month, or even a year's drinking binge, hoping to forget or avoid the problem. When I entered the shop, it felt particularly empty. That damn man had me thinking about a life with him. I spent the rest of the day rearranging things on display, working on my website, and reviewing my inventories. After a quick dinner of leftovers, I retired early and tossed and turned all night.
