Remember the Future

by Delafosse, Bryant

  Grant held his cigarette out at arm’s length and gave a scoff of disdain.

  Ignoring his reaction, Sadie continued. “I am truly sorry for your loss, but for a moment consider the woman at the center of all this. How does she fit into the path you’ve set for your life? Is she a wall or a window?”

  Taking a deep draw on his cigarette, Grant slowly exhaled.

  16

  Preoccupied with finding the way out of the current situation, Grant accepted another beer from Horace--and another--until both men dropped off into a fitful afternoon doze on the front porch, sweat beading on respective brows.

  In that half-dreaming, half-awake state of semi-consciousness, Grant found himself in the midst of one of the endless parades through the Quarter during Mardi Gras--something that, despite his intent, he had never got around to attending.

  After all, he’d had all the time in the world.

  The woman beside him was dark-haired, dark-eyed, dark-complexioned but always light in spirit.

  Lara.

  His wife in her prime. Vivacious and free-spirited. Launching into penetrating deep-issue conversations with strangers standing next to her as if she had known them all her life. It was a talent he had witnessed with marvel as if watching a documentary on alien life from a distant planet.

  In the dream as he watched the colorful floats cruise by and the bizarre costumed cast of characters lope past, he felt the restless anxiety of someone pursued, while Lara lived in the moment.

  “Maddy, we need to go,” Grant suddenly told her. “We have to keep moving.”

  Lara turned to him, the smile on her face stiffening with concern. “Who’s Maddy?”

  Then applause erupted from the crowd around them as if a celebrity had arrived and Lara turned back to the parade, her smile returning to full power.

  Grant looked up to see the Blank Men cruising slowly through the street in their dark sedan, dark shadowy faces scanning the crowd around them from open windows as they escorted a crypt-shaped float filled with stained glass and stone angels upon which sat Sadie and Horace. Behind the float rode Rudy in his Mercedes, his trunk open to reveal the tiny coffin within. The substantial bulk of Arturo Torres rose from a sunroof that hadn’t existed before, waving like the Pope to his fervent believers. Behind the Mercedes walked the streetcar driver and the convenience store clerk. Between them they carried a longer coffin.

  Who is in the coffin, Grant wondered.

  When he next looked at the woman standing next to him, he found Maddy—she of the red-hair, green-eyes, and strawberry-milk complexion.

  “What did you say?” she called out as the trumpets and drums of the parade grew louder.

  “Who’s in the coffin?” Grant exclaimed.

  17

  Grant awoke with a start and turned to find Horace kicking his chair with a dirty work boot.

  The blind man blinked at him, a half-amused, half-concerned look on his aged face.

  “Sounds like you were having a doozy,” he told Grant.

  It was a nightmare. Daymare? Whatever.

  So why could he still hear the trumpets and drums?

  Grant straightened in the wicker rocker. “Is that a parade I hear?”

  “Shore ‘tis,” Horace responded. “Folks sometimes walk through the neighborhood on their way to some church or another. Good way to spread the Word. Maybe pick up a few more along the way.”

  Grant sprung to his feet and nearly tripped over the two cats that had made a warm nest around his feet. He vaulted from the back porch and sprinted to the trailer past the wide-eyed face of Sadie, reading in the shade.

  He burst into the trailer and announced, “We have to go. Now!”

  Maddy shot up and looked around at Grant with disorientation.

  “No time to explain,” he shouted, turning and heading back down the wooden steps. “Follow me. Quick!”

  Maddy rushed after him, then turned to retrieve her shoes from the floor.

  “Gotta go now,” Grant proclaimed, galloping past Sadie at the booth and sparing a wave. “Thanks for the cigarette!”

  Maddy made eye contact with a confused Sadie and gave her a shrug.

  “Sounds pretty motivated. I’d just go with the flow if I were you,” she called after Maddy.

  Pausing at the steps leading into the house, Maddy slipped her shoes on and cast a final wave back at Sadie. “Thanks for giving us shelter!”

  Grant waited expectantly on the porch as Maddy appeared.

  “What’s going on,” she asked. “What are we doing?”

  “We’re walking out the front door.”

  Taking her by the hand, he tugged her down the path through the miscellaneous junk--or treasure, depending on the angle of the sunshine--and stepped out onto the street where a group of ten brightly-dressed men and women, some playing musical instruments, moved east down the small residential street. The group beckoned them forward with welcoming faces. Grant and Maddy slipped into the loose formation and did their best to keep up with the high energy.

  “So, where exactly is everyone going?” Grant asked a man in his twenties wearing a St. Louis Cathedral t-shirt and a towering red-and-white striped Cat in the Hat style hat.

  “We're stirring up the Spirit in our ‘hood,” the man responded. “Drawing every extra soul we can to go with us to the cathedral.” He proudly displayed his t-shirt.

  “We're going to St. Louis Cathedral,” Maddy announced, giving a happy skip and clapping her hands excitedly. “Looks like we've got our escort into the Quarter, Grant. Just like you requested.” She tipped Grant a wink.

  Grant cast a look back over his shoulder toward the residence they’d just left and saw Sadie and Horace standing out on the sidewalk just inside the gate, arms linking around each other. For a moment, his eyes found the sign “Sadie's Salvage and Insight” above the couple and lingered on the word “salvage.”

  “Can you say, thank ya, Jesus!” a woman in another St. Louis t-shirt proclaimed unabashedly to the quiet neighborhood.

  All the participants, including Maddy, cried out "Thank ya, Jesus!"

  People began to trickle out of the homes along the route to see what the ruckus was about and a few even began to walk along with them just as Grant and Maddy had.

  Grant made eye contact with Maddy and nodded in the direction of the curb to their right, where a familiar dark sedan sat parked just a few yards down and opposite Sadie's house. A single arm dangled out the window, holding a smoking cigarette in his hand.

  Maddy looked down through the driver’s window of the sedan as she strutted past. “Away from me, you evildoers!” she shouted in a sing-song voice.

  “Away from me!” several others shouted in response. “Praise the Lord!”

  A young teenage girl in a tight St. Louis T-Shirt spun around and gave Maddy a big smile and a high five.

  “There will be wailing and grinding of teeth when you see Abraham, Isaac, Jacob, and all the prophets safe in the kingdom of God and you yourselves rejected,” cried another.

  Grant glanced back behind them just in time to see the hand dangling from the sedan flick the cigarette into the street and withdraw into the darkness inside.

  18

  The procession came to a stop just outside a small neighborhood church.

  In the heat of the afternoon sunlight, Grant squinted up at a huge statue of St. Jude that seemed to welcome them with open arms. “St. Louis Cathedral always looked a lot bigger in the guidebooks.”

  “This is Our Lady of Guadalupe. And over there is St. Jude’s Shrine,” the guy in the large red-and-white striped hat told them, as he wiped the sweat off his brow. “We're stopping to pay our respects to my man Jude.”

  Grant gravitated to Maddy’s side, scanning the street anxiously.

  “He’s the patron saint of hopeless causes. Helped me pass my algebra final last year,” said the teenage girl, stepping over to Maddy.

  “I never understood why Catholics pray to saints,” she
told the teen.

  “No, we don't actually pray to them,” the girl replied. “They intercede on our behalf, y'know. Like having a brother in the business that puts in a good word for you with the boss.”

  Maddy held her hand out with a smile. “My name’s Maddy.”

  “Beth,” the other answered, grasping her hand. She nodded toward the entrance to the chapel, then started inside without waiting for a response.

  Grant eyed a passing sedan, his muscles tensing in expectation, then realized that it was the wrong color. “I think we should get moving again,” he whispered over his shoulder. Taking a look back, he saw that Maddy was dutifully following the group into the church. He rushed after, cursing under his breath.

  Beth dabbed her fingers in the holy water font and signed herself absently. Maddy angled directly over to a statue on the right of the entrance. The flowers and saucers and napkins with slices of yellow cake surrounded the statue of a young centurion in armor.

  Sheepishly entering the chapel, Grant absently crossed himself with the holy water from the entrance font, then spotted Maddy and the teenage girl standing before the statue.

  “This is St. Expedite,” Beth explained to Maddy as Grant joined them.

  “Hey, shouldn’t we be moving along now?” he whispered to Maddy with an urgency he tried unsuccessfully to conceal.

  “You ask him to help you when you have to have results in a hurry,” the young man in his twenties told Maddy, idling up between her and Beth. In turn, Beth took a step back, putting some distance between her and the young man, who nervously kneaded the striped hat in his hands.

  “Expedite? Is that Latin?” Maddy asked.

  “No, that's what was stamped on his crate when it got here. Least, that's the story,” the young man answered, taking a long hard look at Maddy and smiling sheepishly.

  Beth rolled her eyes at him as Maddy squinted down at the plaque beneath the feet of the statue, her lips parting in wonder.

  “He's the saint of rapid solutions,” the young man continued, his eyes lingering on Maddy.

  “That’s fine, Theo,” Beth snapped, taking Maddy by the arm and leading her gently away from the young man and up the aisle toward the altar. “When we want to know more, we’ll give you a holler back.”

  “What's the deal with the cake?” Grant murmured over his shoulder to Theo.

  Staring back at Maddy and Beth, Theo absently replied. “When he gives you what you've been praying for, you give him a tribute of flowers and a slice of pound cake.” He turned and started after them.

  Grant looked back in confusion, realized that Maddy was no longer beside him and rushed after Theo.

  “Yeah, I heard once that some guy tried to nickel and dime him with a twinkie,” Theo continued without looking back. “He got a case of the crabs something fierce. ‘Bout nearly rotted his privates right off.”

  Glancing up at the crucifix above the altar and realizing for the first time where he stood, Grant came to a complete stop. He blinked at Beth, who genuflected before the altar and watched as Maddy observed her and followed suit. Grant sighed heavily and looked around at the pews that surrounding him, empty except for the ten or so parade participants in St. Louis Cathedral t-Shirts who had entered along with them. All of them knelt in silent prayer.

  Maddy followed Beth into the first pew opposite the altar.

  “God damn it,” Grant grunted under his breath. An elderly woman kneeling a few yards away widened her eyes at him in shock.

  He dropped his head below his shoulders and retreated around the far side of the pews, coming around to Maddy’s pew on Beth’s side. He sidled down the row, tripping over the kneeler loudly and recovering himself.

  Beth and Maddy peered up at him.

  “Take a knee, Grant,” Maddy directed.

  “Nah. If you want to pray, you just go ahead,” he responded impudently.

  Both turned away, Beth bowing her head and Maddy staring up at the crucifix with distant eyes.

  Grant shifted awkwardly from one foot to the other. Peering back at all the eyes on him, he finally dropped to the pew in frustration. After a few moments, he discreetly cleared his throat and leaned over behind Beth’s back.

  “You forget about our friends parked on the street outside Sadie’s?”

  “No,” Maddy replied.

  “Don’t you think we ought to be moving along?”

  “Actually, I don’t know of a safer place to be than a church, Grant.”

  “But they could be waiting right outside.”

  “If that’s the case, I suppose it would be God’s will,” Maddy returned.

  Grant made a face of frustration then pushed in closer to Beth as he tried to crane his neck to Maddy behind her back. She eyed Grant and glanced over at Maddy. “You want me to give you some privacy, Mads?”

  Maddy smiled at Beth. “Mads? I like that.” She frowned at Grant. “Can we please just sit quietly for a few minutes and think positive thoughts. Maybe say a prayer that we get safely through this day? Can we do that, Grant?”

  Grant returned her stern expression and finally folded. He gave a submissive nod and slowly, carefully—as if the cushion beneath his knees were hiding thorns—eased himself onto the kneeler.

  Sighing, Grant fiddled with the envelopes in the pocket in front of him, straightening them and tucking them deeper into their slot. Beth reached blindly out and placed her hand firmly over his.

  “Look I haven’t set foot in a church in a good two years,” Grant hissed.

  “My gram-gram used to have a saying. ‘Let go and let God,’” Beth told him. When he started to respond, she put a finger against his lips. “Hush up and listen to that inner voice.”

  Grant inched over slightly, putting some space between them and took a speculative look up at the crucifix. He dropped his eyes and glowered down at his folded fingers.

  “Well, my Paw Paw had a saying too: ‘God helps those that help themselves,’” he grumbled to Beth. “By the way, what happened to following my lead?”

  “That was before, when you were looking out for my best interests instead of acting out of some knee-jerk God issues I didn’t know you had.”

  Grant blinked at Maddy, momentarily too flustered to speak. Before he could gather enough of his feelings together to give her a rejoinder, Beth asked, “Maddy, are you in some kind of trouble?”

  Grant exchanged a look of warning with Maddy.

  “Yes, you might say that,” she told Beth.

  Grant dropped his forehead to his knuckles.

  “Hey, every one of us is in some degree of trouble, aren’t we?” Beth replied with an uncertain smile.

  Grant gave a hopeless chuckle into his folded hands. “Not like this.”

  Theo appeared in the middle aisle next to Maddy. “Hey, you guys coming along with us to St. Louie’s?” he asked. “We’re just about to take off.”

  Beth blinked from Grant to Maddy. “So are you coming with?”

  Maddy looked over at Grant.

  “Yes, we’re coming,” he said popping out of the pew and rushing out down the opposite aisle to follow Theo toward the exit.

  Beth lowered her head and followed quietly behind Maddy. “Maybe we can help you, Mads. I mean, we have a small but stubborn parish. If it’s about money…”

  Maddy gave a sudden crazed laugh. “If only it were simple enough that money would take care of it.” She stepped out into the aisle and kneeled, bowing her head toward the altar.

  Beth gave a quick bow herself and turned to follow Theo and Grant then paused to study Maddy, who remained kneeling, her head lowered. The church was completely empty now except for the two of them and when Maddy gave a short sniff it echoed like thunder.

  Beth turned away reverently and waited for her to finish the conversation she seemed to be having.

  Slowly, Maddy rose and with her back still turned to Beth, dragged a sleeve across her eyes. Without a word, she rushed up the aisle past Beth.

  �
��Maybe if you just tell me what’s going on…”

  “Sorry, I can’t,” Maddy responded.

  When Beth lowered her head, a frustrated expression on her face, Maddy slowed and fell into step beside her.

  “Beth, only bad things happen to those I let get too close to me.” She stopped and looked back at the altar. “That prayer wasn’t for me. It was for the man I’m with. It was for Grant.”

  19

  Maddy let out an audible gasp when the slowly growing parade turned from Toulouse onto Chartres Street and the spires of St. Louis Cathedral became visible just over the rooftops of the buildings up ahead of them on the left.

  For the last ten minutes, their small group had grown from a small annoying group of seventeen to a massive traffic-congesting crowd of thirty-eight. Instead of attempting to dissuade them, the French Quarter patrolmen simply held traffic at intersections in an effort to get the procession through as quickly and safely as possible, causing the least amount of problems.

  Law enforcement around the Big Easy had learned the best way to manage chaos sometimes was to simply go with the flow.

  At Maddy’s gasp, Beth and Grant traded a look between them. Beth had become fiercely protective since leaving Our Lady of Guadalupe, and without an available target, her anger and frustration had landed conveniently on Grant.

  Grant had chosen the high road of simply ignoring her altogether, but now--out of the blue--he had suddenly gotten a very strong feeling of direction, which clearly veered off the path the parade had been following.

  “Maddy,” he called out before he had even attached a motivation to his compulsion.

  But she was too busy looking around in wonder at the wrought-iron balconies and the smiling waving people looking down on them, plastic cups in every hand. “Y'know, there's a museum that has Louis Armstrong's first cornet. Oh, and I want to try absinthe and have a hurricane at Pat O'Brien's and of course, I want to hear some live Dixieland Jazz.”

  “Maddy,” Grant said more urgently, garnering an intense look of contempt from Beth.