“I’m just going to freshen up, and then we’ll go,” she told Mr. Banks.
A few minutes later they were out the door, Savannah giving me instructions over her shoulder. I sat on the floor with Mattie, entertaining her with some of her toys. After a while I gave her a bottle, changed her, and put her to bed.
I walked quietly around the house, picking up pictures of Mr. Banks, staring intently into his face. He kissed me, I kept thinking. He held my hand. Every part of my body was alive and yet frightened at the same time. Then I picked up a picture of him and Savannah. I thought about Mattie in the next room. All of a sudden, my mind might as well have been submerged in ice water. How could I have kissed him, knowing he had a family?
As I set the picture down, someone knocked on the door. When I opened it, Mary Jordan and Evie were standing side by side on the front stoop. They had grins on their faces and looked like they were up to no good.
“Hey,” I said, surprised to see them.
They stepped apart, and Billy, who’d been crouched behind them, jumped out and grabbed me in his arms. He carried me over to the sofa, tossed me on the cushions, and plopped down next to me. Mary Jordan sat in the armchair. Evie stretched out on the floor.
“How’s my Hippolyte?” he said.
“Where’d you come up with that nickname?” I asked him.
“She was Queen of the Amazons,” he told me.
“I don’t want to be called an Amazon,” I said, shoving his leg with my foot. “Amazons are big.”
“Amazons were strong women who came from the god of war. And the queen of the Amazons was so beautiful that Theseus traveled to the ends of the earth to kidnap her and bring her back to Athens.”
“Oh,” I said.
“And I suppose you’re Theseus,” Evie teased.
He tossed one of the throw pillows at her and said, “What I want to know is, how is our baby bird getting along?”
He read my face. “You have checked on her, haven’t you?”
How could I tell him I’d been preoccupied with more important matters?
He stood. “Come on.”
The four of us headed out to the tree. We craned our necks to see the bough stub where the nest was.
“I don’t see anything,” Evie said.
Mary Jordan said, “Me, either.”
Billy took a running start toward the garage, jumped, grabbed hold of the roof ledge, and hoisted himself up. He walked to the peak of the roof. It was then that the mama robin dove toward the nest, an earthworm dangling from her beak.
“I do believe I see life,” Billy said.
“It’s a sign,” Mary Jordan said.
“What kind of sign?” Evie said.
“A sign for hope,” Mary Jordan said. “And love.”
Evie scowled and gave Mary Jordan one of those penetrating stares. “Is Doug doing this to you, or are you doing this all on your own?”
“Doing what?” Mary Jordan asked, her voice as light as down.
Evie shook her head and walked over to the garage. “Give me a lift, Dreamy.”
Mary Jordan clasped her hands together, creating a stirrup for Evie to step into, and raised her up.
I wished I could climb up, too, but I was worried about leaving Mattie in the house alone. Instead I observed Evie and Billy sitting together on the roof, looking out over the tree and watching the mother bird feed her young.
“So you think it’s a sign?” I asked Mary Jordan.
She was still staring up at the tree. “Mm-hmm.” She linked her arm in mine. “‘Ah, happy, happy boughs! That cannot shed, your leaves, nor ever bid the Spring adieu; And happy melodist, unwearied, forever piping songs forever new.’”
I’m fairly certain the look I gave my friend was a close resemblance to the one Evie had given her only moments before.
“Keats,” Mary Jordan said.
“Keats,” I said, slightly annoyed.
“The bird, the one who made it, who refused to be shaken from her happy bough. She’s a sign. For us. For love.”
Suddenly, I felt an aching in my belly. Was Mr. Banks shaking me like he had shaken the other birds out of their nest? Questions were shooting through my mind like arrows.
I wanted to talk to Mary Jordan about Mr. Banks. I wanted to tell her what I had done. I started to, tried to, but the words wouldn’t come. I felt as if I had been kidnapped and taken somewhere far away, like Germany, and all I could do was stand there at a loss, unable to speak the language or understand the words.
The Swing Set
Before my friends left, I pulled Evie aside and told her I needed to talk with her. She said to call her when I got home, that it didn’t matter how late.
I was asleep on the sofa when the Bankses returned. With Savannah there, Mr. Banks didn’t try to hold my hand or say he was sorry or in any way refer to his earlier actions. In fact, he acted so normal, it was almost as if I could pretend the whole thing had never happened.
It was sometime after eleven when I climbed on my bike to ride home. About a quarter of a mile from my house, I heard Evie call my name. She rode up beside me.
“What are you doing?” I asked.
“My mom’s got a guest at the house. I was going to see if I could spend the night.”
“Of course you can spend the night.”
We kept riding.
“Want to stop by the park?” I asked.
She didn’t say anything, but instead rode up ahead of me and took a right toward St. Vincent’s. I followed.
We laid our bikes in the grass. “You okay?” I asked as we walked over to the swing set.
“Nothing I’m not used to,” Evie said.
We took off our shoes and situated ourselves on the swings, then swayed just the slightest bit back and forth while we dragged our toes in the sand.
“So what did you want to talk about?” Evie asked.
I wanted to tell Evie everything that had happened, but suddenly I felt like the Wall of China had erected itself over my mouth, and not a single word was going to find its way out.
One thing about Evie, which no one would have guessed without knowing her, was she had a lot of patience when it came to conversation. She just waited, swinging back and forth and drawing swivel lines in the sand with her toes.
Finally, I said, “How old do you think Mr. Banks is?”
“I don’t know. Somewhere in his twenties probably. Why?”
“What if I said I liked Mr. Banks?”
“Depends on how you mean?”
“Evie?”
“Hmm?”
“Mr. Banks kissed me.”
Evie stopped swinging. I stopped swinging, too. We must have sat still like that for a good whole minute. Sometimes a minute can feel like eternity.
“When did he kiss you?” Evie wanted to know.
“I stopped by the school earlier today to talk to him. I was helping him get the lights. Once it was dark, he just kissed me.”
“Did you kiss him back?”
“I think so,” I said.
“How did you feel?”
“Well, my South Pole felt kind of good, but my North Pole felt really bad, and the longer I think about it, the worse I feel.”
Evie hooked her ankle around mine and started swinging back and forth again, gently pulling me with her.
“It’s not because he’s older than you,” she said. “I think a teacher kissing a student would kind of be like a priest kissing some girl at confession. You know what I’m saying?” Evie said.
“I think so.”
“I mean, he’s good-looking and all. And maybe it’d be fun to think about kissing him. But thinking and doing are two different things. Remember those kids we were teaching vacation Bible school to last year?”
“Mm-hmm.”
“Remember how cute little Peter Jeansonne was?”
I smiled. “Mm-hmm.”
“Well, how do you think it would have been if one day I’d gotten him in the broom closet and gave him m
outh-to-mouth resuscitation, even though he was suscitating just fine?”
Every part of me cringed. “I would have thought you were a pervert.”
“Mm-hmm.”
“That’s not the same thing,” I said.
“And why isn’t it?”
“It’s just not. Mr. Banks isn’t a pervert. I don’t even like saying that word. You’ve seen him.”
“Lucy, you don’t even know him. You can only like someone once you get to know him. You think you like him because he’s the best-looking thing that ever walked into Sweetbay, and on account of the fact that he notices you. Everyone likes to be noticed.”
I knew Evie was right, but I didn’t want her to be right.
“Besides,” Evie went on to say. “Think how you’d feel if last night we’d walked in on Dewey’s dad kissing your mom. Or think how you’d feel if you saw your dad kissing somebody else. My parents are divorced, and I still don’t like it when I see my mom kissing another man.”
I stopped swinging. I felt the blood in my face sink clear to my toes.
“What is it?” Evie said.
“I’m a sinner.” My voice was as dead as a crawfish that’s been stewed and swallowed and digested.
Evie laughed.
“Evie, it’s not funny! ‘It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.’”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m going to hell,” I said.
Evie laughed some more.
“Evie!”
“You’re not going to hell.”
“That’s not what the Bible says. You know how Mama is always quoting scripture. You remember when Ms. Pitre’s husband died and everyone found out he’d been having an affair? Mama started quoting Matthew. Said that if a person so much as looks at someone else with lust in his heart, that person might as well gouge out his own eyes. That it’s better to lose your eyes than burn in hell for eternity.”
Evie’s face got all serious, and I thought for sure she was taking heed to my words, until she said, “Don’t you know if those words were true there wouldn’t be a person around with any proper hormones that had their two eyes left.”
“You’re saying that isn’t in Matthew?”
“I’m not saying it isn’t in Matthew. I just think some people go interpreting things any ole way they want to interpret them, that’s all. Seems to me it suited your mom just fine to go quoting that scripture against Ms. Pitre’s husband. But I can’t help but wonder what scripture she got to quoting last night before she started in on those cooking lessons.”
“I don’t know that I like this conversation anymore,” I said. “Of course, I don’t know that I like my mom hanging around Mr. Savoi’s house, either. And I sure don’t like her taking her clothes off for him. The only two people my mama should go taking her clothes off for are my daddy and Doc Fredericks, and Lord knows I’m not going to worry about her and Doc Fredericks.”
“You know, my mom says Doc Fredericks was quite the specimen in his time.”
“I’m not talking about Doc Fredericks,” I said.
“I know you’re not talking about Doc Fredericks,” Evie said.
“I’m talking about my mom,” I said.
“Well, whoever you’re talking about, I don’t think either you or your mama are going to hell,” Evie said.
The air poured forth from my mouth in a giant gust. “What should I do?”
Somewhere in our discourse, Evie had stopped swinging. So had I.
“You’re going to act like nothing ever happened,” Evie told me. “And just to be sure your South Pole doesn’t go getting itself confused again, you’re going to abstain from any more private encounters.”
“Should I speak to him?” I asked.
“You can go speaking to him. But try and be like one of those Orange Dream Bars that’s been sitting in the freezer too long. Gets that freezer burn all over it.”
I started laughing and gave Evie a push to the side. Her swing slid directly back into me, bumping my hip. Then the two of us locked an arm around each other’s swings and began gliding back and forth.
“What do you bet Mary Jordan’s up to right now?” I said.
“I bet she doesn’t have any more Tabasco sauce on her lips.” I laughed. Evie did, too.
Maple Syrup
Life seemed a little better after talking with Evie, but early the next morning, all my bad feelings returned. From the looks of the light filtering through the window, I guessed it to be around six. Evie was lying next to me.
“Are you awake?” I asked, Mr. Banks’s kiss completely fresh on my mind.
She didn’t answer.
I knew I wasn’t going to hell for what had happened. Instead, what I felt was an understanding that I would never be the same. I felt the guilt of growing up.
I crawled out of bed and dressed, then closed the door behind me and walked downstairs, the house quiet, letting me know Mama and Daddy were still in bed. In the kitchen, I made coffee, poured myself a cup, adding cream and a little sugar. I carried the mug outside with me to the front stoop. The sky was already a clear blue. It would be a nice day for the wedding. Anita and Clyde had invited the whole town. Surely Mr. Banks wouldn’t be there. Then I remembered the tryouts for the play and wondered if he had posted the results. I finished my coffee, left the mug on the stoop, and rode my bike into town.
Daddy’s shop wouldn’t be open for a couple more hours. I stopped in front of the glass door, but didn’t see the results. I was supposed to work that day, and hoped I wouldn’t run into Mr. Banks. I wasn’t just thinking about him kissing me at the school. I was also trying to understand what had happened the night before. He had held my hand. He had kissed my cheek. Had I said or done something to make him do that? I turned my bike around and headed home.
Evie was up when I got back to the house.
“You feeling better?” she asked.
“Not really,” I told her.
“Try not to think about it,” she said.
After breakfast, we rode into town. Ethel Lee had opened the shop early, and people were already gathered inside, no doubt waiting to see whom Mr. Banks had cast for the play. By ten-thirty, the place was packed, and the results still weren’t up. Daddy sent me down to the Piggly Wiggly to buy more coffee. Shortly after I returned, Tante Pearl arrived.
“What are you doing here?” I asked.
“Is that any way to talk to your favorite aunt?”
“Tante Pearl, the last time I saw you in here was at the Christmas parade when it got rained out and you didn’t want to get rained out, too.”
“Maybe I wanted to find out how my favorite niece did in the tryouts.” She strolled herself to the back of the shop and poured herself a cup of coffee. Then she walked back up to me and said, “Did you know the Queen of Sheba and King Solomon were soul mates?”
For the life of me I couldn’t understand where this popular fixation on the Queen of Sheba had come from lately.
“Mm-hmm, they sure were,” she said.
“Since when did you start reading the Bible so much? Next thing I know you’ll be turning into Mama.”
Tante Pearl went right on with her reverie. “King Solomon gave the Queen of Sheba all she desired and asked for, besides what he had given her out of his royal bounty. Isn’t that just beautiful?”
“Tante Pearl, what are you talking about?”
Tante Pearl looked at me as if she had just noticed I existed, even though I’d been standing right in front of her the whole time.
“It’s called love,” she said, and the way she rolled that word off her tongue, I thought for sure she’d died and been reincarnated into someone as sappy as maple syrup.
Ms. Pitre ambled her way over to us. “What do you think is taking him so long?”
But I didn’t get a chance to answer, and neither did anyone else, because just then Miss Balfa flung the door open like a train going a thousand miles a
n hour. “He’s coming!”
I thought I’d die right there on the spot. Mr. Banks came strolling up to the window with a piece of paper held in his hand. Everything inside the shop got so quiet, a person could have heard a piece of dust drop. He pulled out a roll of tape from his back pocket, tore off four pieces, and taped each corner of the paper to the shop’s front door. I swear not a one of us moved or blinked.
Mr. Banks never even looked our way, never once noticed that I was there. He finished taping up the results, turned around, and jogged off. He was wearing running shorts and his Adidas running shoes and one of those mesh tank tops, with big gaping holes revealing the muscles on his chest. I knew right there, he had the most beautiful body I’d ever seen. For just a moment I got to reasoning that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing kissing him after all, since officially he wouldn’t be my teacher for another two months. But then I remembered Savannah and Mattie, and all that guilt that had sunk into my skin throughout the night took on a startling thickness, making it difficult for me to breathe.
Everyone remained as still and quiet as could be. But once Mr. Banks disappeared around the corner of First National Bank of New Orleans, I thought for sure someone was going to get trampled to death as folks squeezed through the doorway to glimpse the names on that piece of paper.
Ethel Lee was the first one to see the list, and as soon as she saw it, she let out a squeal. “Lucy, you did it! You got the lead!”
I was sandwiched between Tante Pearl’s rear end and Ms. Pitre’s bosom. Ethel Lee stretched her arm out over Tante Pearl and patted me on the head. Daddy hooted and waved at me from the back of the shop. I thought Evie should have gotten the lead. Maybe if she had been the one kissing Mr. Banks, things would have turned out differently.
I didn’t care if I saw the list or not. I inched my body away from everyone and made my way to the back of the store. Just as the back door was in reach, Daddy grabbed me up in his arms and swung me off the ground, which with my height isn’t an easy thing to do.
“Way to go, Lucy!” he cheered, as proud as could be. I knew he wouldn’t have been so proud of me if he had been in the auditorium the afternoon before, which made me want to get out of the shop even more.
Love, Cajun Style Page 11
