I was dreading it. This is where my last significant relationship had begun and ended. I loved this town, the way it smelled the pulse of the people the gritty underbelly that I loved to scratch. New Orleans should be my name, when I stepped out of the airport with Dylan, Don and James the cities vibration overtook me and I couldn’t help but smile.
Mother Pearl had died yesterday evening with no pomp and circumstance. James father had only found out five days prior that his wife was dying; with no time to adjust he had simply gone into shock. James was petrified of what he would find, I felt at peace.
The next day as we followed the funeral procession on foot I watched James with his family. His sister was holding Dylan in almost a manic way to her chest while her own son walked by her side. James had his arm around her but every once and awhile would wipe the tears from his face.
He was all alone—in the middle of his family he was alone. I gripped Don’s hand harder. Don reacted by kissing my cheek and wrapping his arm around my waist. Eventually I was going to have to come clean with James that I knew his mother was dying before he did. I had hours of tape and notes about his family, things that he probably didn’t know.
I heard the band change from the morose lament that curled up your spine to the jazzy jubilation that accompanies the body to it’s final resting place. This was for Mother Pearl it was no longer about the rest of us. Don unconsciously tapped my waist to the rhythm and I stopped worrying about James, he would find his way.
When we crossed the threshold of the cemetery a familiar face stood at the entrance in a pair of coveralls holding a broom. His eyes lit up but he hesitated to say hello, I disengaged from Don and walked to him and his open arms. My uncle Charlie was a drifter but had settled in New Orleans some years ago and was around when I still lived here. He was 67, and looked better than my father did in his thirties. He had never touched drugs or alcohol but the death of his young wife had made him a bit crazy before I was even born.
Charlie laughed almost too loud holding me closely. It had never failed; we have always found each other like this. One night he picked me up out of the gutter after I passed out, another time I had gone into the library to escape the humidity and found him surrounding by books on bugs and now at the cemetery gates. He was my unlikely companion in the city, while I never felt lonely I always had a certain longing for family that Charlie filled.
Don interrupted by coughing softly.
“Don, this is Uncle Charlie on my fathers side. Charlie this is my Don, my husband.”
I don’t know why it came out like that. ‘Don, my husband” sounded awkward ringing back in my ears.
“Pleasure,” Charlie and dawn shook hand vigorously. Charlie was obviously pleased with the news his smile got even larger.
“You better get in side kid, I will find you when I get out.” He waved us through the cemetery gates. Don and I had to nearly jog to catch up to the procession. I bit my lip to hide my joy but it was obvious to Don who smirked.
I felt as though James was watching me but I refused to look at him, I knew my heart would sink and I didn’t want to let this moment go.
…
I knew I could escape greeting the family at James’ childhood home. Which should have been turned into a bed and breakfast decades ago, the Plantation stunk of old money and misdeeds, it was gorgeous.
Not willing to loose sight of Uncle Charlie I had pleaded with him to come to the house when I realized I could be stuck for hours. He agreed and showed up wearing a suit that was slightly out of style but made him look even more handsome.
I could see him walking down the driveway with flowers and I realized that I hadn’t even told him about Dylan, who was in the clutches of his fathers family still. I sat on the porch swing waiting, escaping. I held an untouched mint julep in my hand that Don had made when he got suckered into playing bartender.
James stepped out of the house but didn’t see me at first. He stared in the distance and lit up a cigarette. When he did see me, he flicked his ash on the pristine white porch and blew smoke out of his nose. The door opened behind him.
“Put that out.” his sister was holding Dylan and was attempting to at last pass him off.
“I will take him.” I stood and hurried toward the nugget who was two seconds away from crying. His lip quivered but when I tucked him into my arm and held me momentarily to my neck he calmed down.
Charlie was mounting the steps and I realized I was going to do some fast talking. He kissed me, James looked at me confused.
“James, this is my Uncle Charlie. Charlie, this is James, the father of my son Dylan.” Wow it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
Charlie refrained from chuckling, instead he looked at James. “James, I think we should call her Cat, because she always manages to land on our feet.” James smiled slightly and nodded before asking be excused.
I looked at Charlie apologetically, “His mother was the one who died.” Charlie smiled. “I know Sugar, these folks are famous round here.” I rolled my eyes and ushered Charlie to the porch swing.
Mother Pearl had died yesterday evening with no pomp and circumstance. James father had only found out five days prior that his wife was dying; with no time to adjust he had simply gone into shock. James was petrified of what he would find, I felt at peace.
The next day as we followed the funeral procession on foot I watched James with his family. His sister was holding Dylan in almost a manic way to her chest while her own son walked by her side. James had his arm around her but every once and awhile would wipe the tears from his face.
He was all alone—in the middle of his family he was alone. I gripped Don’s hand harder. Don reacted by kissing my cheek and wrapping his arm around my waist. Eventually I was going to have to come clean with James that I knew his mother was dying before he did. I had hours of tape and notes about his family, things that he probably didn’t know.
I heard the band change from the morose lament that curled up your spine to the jazzy jubilation that accompanies the body to it’s final resting place. This was for Mother Pearl it was no longer about the rest of us. Don unconsciously tapped my waist to the rhythm and I stopped worrying about James, he would find his way.
When we crossed the threshold of the cemetery a familiar face stood at the entrance in a pair of coveralls holding a broom. His eyes lit up but he hesitated to say hello, I disengaged from Don and walked to him and his open arms. My uncle Charlie was a drifter but had settled in New Orleans some years ago and was around when I still lived here. He was 67, and looked better than my father did in his thirties. He had never touched drugs or alcohol but the death of his young wife had made him a bit crazy before I was even born.
Charlie laughed almost too loud holding me closely. It had never failed; we have always found each other like this. One night he picked me up out of the gutter after I passed out, another time I had gone into the library to escape the humidity and found him surrounding by books on bugs and now at the cemetery gates. He was my unlikely companion in the city, while I never felt lonely I always had a certain longing for family that Charlie filled.
Don interrupted by coughing softly.
“Don, this is Uncle Charlie on my fathers side. Charlie this is my Don, my husband.”
I don’t know why it came out like that. ‘Don, my husband” sounded awkward ringing back in my ears.
“Pleasure,” Charlie and dawn shook hand vigorously. Charlie was obviously pleased with the news his smile got even larger.
“You better get in side kid, I will find you when I get out.” He waved us through the cemetery gates. Don and I had to nearly jog to catch up to the procession. I bit my lip to hide my joy but it was obvious to Don who smirked.
I felt as though James was watching me but I refused to look at him, I knew my heart would sink and I didn’t want to let this moment go.
…
I knew I could escape greeting the family at James’ childhood home. Which should have been turned into a bed and breakfast decades ago, the Plantation stunk of old money and misdeeds, it was gorgeous.
Not willing to loose sight of Uncle Charlie I had pleaded with him to come to the house when I realized I could be stuck for hours. He agreed and showed up wearing a suit that was slightly out of style but made him look even more handsome.
I could see him walking down the driveway with flowers and I realized that I hadn’t even told him about Dylan, who was in the clutches of his fathers family still. I sat on the porch swing waiting, escaping. I held an untouched mint julep in my hand that Don had made when he got suckered into playing bartender.
James stepped out of the house but didn’t see me at first. He stared in the distance and lit up a cigarette. When he did see me, he flicked his ash on the pristine white porch and blew smoke out of his nose. The door opened behind him.
“Put that out.” his sister was holding Dylan and was attempting to at last pass him off.
“I will take him.” I stood and hurried toward the nugget who was two seconds away from crying. His lip quivered but when I tucked him into my arm and held me momentarily to my neck he calmed down.
Charlie was mounting the steps and I realized I was going to do some fast talking. He kissed me, James looked at me confused.
“James, this is my Uncle Charlie. Charlie, this is James, the father of my son Dylan.” Wow it wasn’t as bad as I thought it would be.
Charlie refrained from chuckling, instead he looked at James. “James, I think we should call her Cat, because she always manages to land on our feet.” James smiled slightly and nodded before asking be excused.
I looked at Charlie apologetically, “His mother was the one who died.” Charlie smiled. “I know Sugar, these folks are famous round here.” I rolled my eyes and ushered Charlie to the porch swing.
2 comments:
Are you ever going to write more???
Are you ever going to write more???
Post a Comment