The Girl on Prytania Street Page 16
I read through the menu. The options were endless, fattening, and I automatically imagined myself hovering over the porcelain bowl. “I’ll stick with water,” I said.
“Water, you’ve got all this delicious food to choose from and you’ll stick with water?” He shook his head in disbelief. It wasn’t as if I had always been this way. Before Zoe’s disappearance, the two of us had a ritual where we would try a new restaurant every month and I would break my rigid diet. I drifted to the past.
“Mom, did you know that Fromage Blanc Spread literally translates to silk worker’s brain?” Zoe said as she spread some of the cheese on toasted bread.
“Hmmm, I didn’t know that,” I said smothering some roasted potatoes with the cheese. “Why does it translate to that?”
“Well, it’s named after Lyon’s 19th-century silk weavers who would often eat the spread for lunch.”
“You, my dear, teach me something new every day.”
“Well, life is too short to be stuck in a rut, isn’t it?” She eyed her silk worker’s brain with such childlike delight. For her, every day was like Christmas morning. She was always learning something new and in doing so was teaching me along the way. Just when I thought I knew it all, she would open her mouth and out would pour a little fact or tidbit that I hadn’t considered before. “Why are you staring at me?” she asked.
“I’m fascinated by you, that’s all.”
She rolled her eyes. “Really, Mom, I’m not that interesting.”
“Yes, you are,” I said.
“Can we order the Meringue Floating in Crème Anglaise for dessert?” She changed the subject. She wasn’t great at accepting compliments. I suppose it was her humble nature.
“Sure,” I said. “What are we in for?”
“It sounds so delicious. Picture this, delicate meringues that float in vanilla custard which are topped by praline roses.”
“Praline roses?”
“Yes, caramel-coated almonds that are dyed a bright pink. Doesn’t it sound like something that Anne Shirley would eat? Remember when she drank that Rose Cordial with Diana? You know, I’ve decided that I want to be an Anne with an E. Isn't it splendid to think of all the things there are to find out about? It just makes me feel glad to be alive—it’s such an interesting world. It wouldn't be half so interesting if we knew all about everything, would it? There’d be no scope for imagination then, would there? But am I talking too much? People are always telling me I do. Would you rather I didn't talk? If you say so I'll stop. I can STOP when I make up my mind to it, although it's difficult,” she said quoting her current favorite fictional character. She had read all of the books and we were currently binge-watching the new version of the classic on Netflix.
“First thing we'd climb a tree and maybe then we'd talk or sit silently and listen to our thoughts …” I sang the opening lines to the Tragically Hip song that was the theme to the new version of the show.
Zoe smiled. “Illusions of someday casting a golden light, no dress rehearsal this is our life.”
“Sugar?” Chris’ voice snapped me back to reality. He stared at me for a few seconds and I knew he was going to ask the inevitable are you alright?
“What?” I asked as he continued to stare.
“Stare in the morning shroud and then the day began. I tilted your cloud. You tilted my hand. Rain falls in real time. Rain fell through the night. No dress rehearsal this is our life,” he sang.
I couldn’t help but smile. “You know that song?”
“Caught the band in Montreal right before good old Gord hit the big one.”
“Would it be possible to share some of your red beans and rice? I don’t think I’m up for an entire plate.”
He gave me a wide smile. “Now you’re talking.”
“And maybe we can split a slice of praline cake?”
“You heard the lady, Brian. We’ll have some red beans and rice and a big old slice of praline cake afterward.”
“Sure.” Brian gave us a grin as he headed inside with our order.
We waited for our food in silence. Chris typed away on his laptop and I pretended to be entirely invested in the files that sat in front of me. Every so often I would take a quick glance across the street to see if Anita and Richard would make an appearance. They were probably spending the night at the Dubois mansion or maybe they were staying at a ritzy hotel nearby. I made up a million different scenarios and possibilities in my head as I continued to stare at the mansion. Your own imagination was tricky, but it became even trickier when you added pills into the mix.
A flash went off somewhere behind the giant oak and I saw a glimpse of a beard. “Chris, look over there, it’s my stalker,” I whispered without making any sudden movements.
“Where?” Chris didn’t look up from his laptop.
“Shhh, don’t look, but he’s hiding behind the giant oak.”
The flashes continued to go off in rapid succession and I lost my sense of cool. I got up from my chair and ran towards the oak. “I see you, asshole!!! It’s you! I see you!” The stalker sprinted off and I followed him. I felt Chris behind me.
“Hey you!” Chris shouted at the bearded man. “Are you following this lady?”
My bearded stalker stopped and turned around to face Chris. “Hey, man. Are you with the crazy lady? She thinks I’m following her when all I’m doing is being a tourist.”
“Prove it,” Chris said. “Let me see your camera.”
The bearded man with the giant man bun examined Chris suspiciously. “Look man, you’re not going to take off with my equipment, are you? I spent months saving up for this.”
“No, I have one that costs twice as much as yours. I only want to settle this debate this lovely lady and I are having over whether you’re an innocent tourist or demented stalker.”
“Look man, if it’ll make the crazy lady stay far away from me, you’re more than free to look through my shots.” He handed Chris the camera.
“Come here, sugar, the moment of truth has arrived,” he said as he flipped through the digital images.
I eagerly looked at the screen waiting for shots of me in various activities to appear. To my disappointment, there wasn’t a single shot of me. There were various snaps of the neighborhood, the flowers, the trees, the architecture, the various shops in the French Quarter, but not a single one of me. “That’s impossible!” I screamed.
The bearded man crossed his arms and leaned against a tree. “Can I have my camera back now?” he asked smugly.
“It looks like you were mistaken and now you can relax and not worry about being followed anymore,” Chris said handing me the camera.
“I’m not wrong. I saw what I saw. He was taking pictures of me through my bedroom window.” I flipped through the pictures determined to find the evidence.
The bearded man began to tap his foot impatiently. “Are you two done? Can I have my camera back? Ya know, I’m not even offended by all of this craziness. It makes for a great vacation story, maybe I’ll even blog about it.”
“How is that you turn up everywhere that I am?” I asked accusingly.
“Look, weirdo.” He took a map out of his pocket. “See these highlighted areas? These are recommended areas for tourists to explore and to take pictures. See, it says I should visit Lafayette Cemetery No 1, the Garden District, the shops in the French Quarter and so on.” He rolled his eyes. “God, can I just have my goddamn camera back?”
I reluctantly handed him his camera, and he gave me a smug grin.
“Just because you’re not a stalker that doesn’t mean that you’re not an asshole!”
“Maybe you’re stalking me, hmmm? You seem to show up everywhere I am.”
“Why would I want to stalk a hairy man? Besides, aren’t man buns so two years ago?” I heckled.
“Kate, come on, let’s go have some lunch and get down to business, we’re only wasting our time with this clown,” Chris said.
“Hey, dude, what gives? First, y
ou ask to see my camera and then you call me a clown?” The bearded man was not impressed by Chris calling him a clown. He placed his camera back into his case and stood up tall and got into Chris’ face.
“Now, I didn’t mean it in a bad way,” Chris said backing away from the bearded man.
“Yeah, dude, I think you did.” He inched closer to Chris and took the cowboy hat off of his head.
“Hey, give that back, it belonged to my grandpa who was a hard-working coal miner, salt-of-the-earth-type fellow. I won’t have you disrespecting his memory in any way.”
“Come and get it shorty!” The bearded man teased even though he was only two inches taller than Chris.
“I’m not going to stoop to your level, you clown!” Chris crossed his arms and gave his opponent a large grin.
The bearded man took out a lighter and began to set fire to Chris’ hat. Chris stood there with his arms crossed, failing to react. “This blows.” If Chris wouldn’t make a move, I would. I kicked the bearded man in the balls which made him yell out in pain. The hat dropped, I picked it up and placed it back on Chris’ head. I grabbed his arm and then sprinted back to the porch. Chris howled with laughter as we sat down.
“Let me tell you that’s the most fun I’ve had in a long old while,” he said as we glanced at the bearded man who gave us the finger and ran down the oak and crepe myrtle tree lined street. I wasn’t sure what the deal with him was yet, but I had no patience to find out at this very second.
I was conscious of the fact that my face was making motions that it had almost forgotten how to make on its own. My smile wasn’t forced, my lips weren’t tight and overstretched. I was laughing, genuinely laughing.
“Here you go. I hope you enjoy it. We’ve got the best red beans and rice in town,” Brain said as he placed the dish down in front of us and leaving us to attend to other guests. I eyed the plate and felt nauseous.
“I have to go to the bathroom,” I said.
“No, you don’t.” Chris handed me a fork. I reluctantly took it.
“You aren’t going to force feed me, are you?” I asked.
“Nah, not my style, plus, you’re a big girl. I mean you’re an adult not that you’re literally big, not that it would matter. I have a cousin who is big as a house. Her husband is a tiny wisp of a man, but they are the happiest couple that I know of. They get each other, you know like two mismatched pieces of a puzzle that simply seem to fit.” I studied him for a few seconds before taking a bite of food. We ate in silence until the plate was clean.
Chapter Twenty-One
Richard
“How much does this place go for?” I asked Anita as I eyed the massive Italianate mansion with its looming white pillars. I could easily see myself raising Sara in a place like this. She’d be placed in the best schools and have access to the best of everything the world had to offer. It didn’t work out that way for Zoe, but that could be how the story ended for Sara. I wouldn’t let anyone or anything hurt the little princess.
“A place like this can easily go for the reasonable price of around $12 million. Why, are you thinking about investing?” Anita asked as we stepped into one of the fanciest mansions on the block.
“Hmmm, maybe I am. I’m pretty sure that we can afford it.” I gave her a wink. Kate had dragged me to enough museums and historic places for me to know that this place was the stuff legends were made of and the crème of the crop of American society always bought a home on this block. The Garden District always held a peculiar fascination over me. It was one of America's oldest monuments to the power of the little man making a name for himself. Immense fortunes were gained and lost and gained again in a matter of months and like me, most of these nouveaux riches were from small towns or from some far-off country. They had started small but had eventually become kings. After I was through with conquering New York, New Orleans was next on my list. I envisioned my name replacing that of Mr. Dubois on every piece of property that meant something.
“Welcome.” A housekeeper dressed in a crisp white uniform presented us with a tray of drinks. I took a mint julep. They were legend down here. I took a quick glance around the enormous reception parlor with its sixteen-foot-high ceilings, intricate draperies, custom-made rugs, chandeliers, and gold-leaf moldings and pretended that I wasn’t impressed. That’s the way you had to be with these guys, the moment they saw that you were awestruck by their wealth, they got off on it.
“Anita, you get more beautiful as times passes, the gods, spirits, and angels have blessed you immensely,” said the George Clooney clone with a handlebar mustache. Dressed in a baby blue seersucker suit, he was the definition of dapper. I pretended not to be intimidated. Being engaged to Anita was hard work, there were plenty of sharks circling her knowing the type of lifestyle that she could offer them.
“Reginald Dubois, how you flatter me.” Anita gave him two kisses on the cheek. “You, my dear, get handsomer as the seconds tick by.”
“It must be the seersucker. Can you believe that a Missouri state legislator proposed a ban on anyone over the age of eight wearing one, because according to him, adults look ridiculous in seersucker suits.” They both tossed their heads back and let out loud laughs.
“This must be the fiancé,” he said turning his attention towards me.
I stuck out my hand. “Richard Givens.”
He gave me a firm handshake and studied me carefully for a few seconds. I know that he was taking in every detail, studying every wrinkle, twitch, and whatnot. “A pleasure to meet you, Richie.”
My left eye twitched unwillingly. I hated when people called me that. It was what my mother used to call me. It was a reminder of the poverty that I had escaped from. I studied him back hoping to gauge what he meant by calling me Richie. His expression was nothing but warm, open, delighted. He was an actor of the highest level, a master actually. I could learn a lot from him. “Likewise. I’m sorry for the disappearance of your daughter. I know how rough that can be.”
“Awww, yes.” He took a flute of pink champagne off of a tray and brought it to his lips. “It is a tragedy of Shakespearean proportions. However, to weep is to make less the depth of grief. The show must go on. Appearances must be kept, signs of weakness must not be shown.”
I thought hard as to what play that quote was from. “Hamlet, one of my favorites.”
“Actually, it’s from Henry the Sixth.” He took a sip of champagne and I took a gulp of my drink. “I assume you two will be staying for my annual summer costume gala and you’ll be spending the night here. Your room is already prepared. I won’t take no for an answer.”
“Of course we’re attending the gala, Reggie. How is Emilia coping, by the way? Where is she?”
“She’s not taking the disappearance very well at all. I suppose we all have different manners of coping with these sorts of things. My sources tell me that she is currently in hiding out in one of our Tahitian island homes. The media circus is the last thing she wants to deal with right now. You know Emilia, she is such a delicate flower, a true Southern Belle of the finest breeding. She needs the right amount sunlight and water or she’ll wither away in a matter of seconds.” He took out his phone and showed us grainy images of Emilia Dubois lounging on a chaise surrounded by palm trees and bodyguards. She was smiling and sipping on a piña colada. It didn’t look like she was grieving. “Don’t let these images fool you, my sources tell me that she’s locked herself up in the house and refuses to see anyone. I’ll have to fly out there myself once this craziness dies down.”
Anita nodded her head in understanding. “Yes, she is lucky to have married you, Reggie, you’ve looked out for her all of these years. I can’t imagine how utterly devastated she must be. I do hope that Charlene is alive and well.”
“Not all women are as strong as you, Anita. If they were, us men wouldn’t have anyone to take care of.”
Anita tossed her head back again and let out another amused laugh. “You flatter me, Reggie. You always have.”
“Yes, Zoe, she disappeared three years ago. Turned my world upside down, cost me my marriage and just about my sanity. Anita saved me.” I gave her an appreciative glance. My eyes rested on a huge golden statue of a naked women arched backward. It hung suspended in mid-air taking up only a fraction of the enormous parlor. “Kind of like that girl over there.” I pointed towards the statue. “That’s how I’ve felt for the past three years. I’ve been contorted, twisted, suspended in mid-air.”
“Ahh, yes, the arch of hysteria, one of my favorite pieces. Grief at its finest, wouldn’t you agree? It sends us all down paths of despair like the depths of which we have never seen before. It bends us all in one way or another, the trick is not to let it contort you to an extent where you can never snap back. In this fine town of mine, we always find a way to snap back from our grief, our desperation, and our deepest sorrows. I admit this city is not for everyone. It tests your resilience and is only for the fittest of the species. A playground for Darwin, it is.”
“Well, Richard, like I’ve always said, there is no point in living in the past, we have to move on, don’t we?” She gave me a small wink.
“Wiser words were never spoken, as Kierkegaard once said ‘life can only be understood backwards; but it must be lived forwards.’”
“I agree, I can’t get my soon to be ex-wife to believe that though.”
“Has this ex-wife of yours gone hysterical like my beloved Emilia? I do know how difficult that can be.”
I took another large sip of the mint julep. The words seemed to spill out unintentionally. “She won’t give up hope of finding, Zoe. She’s convinced that she’s still alive, that she’s okay. She’s numbing herself with these pills and is doing crazy stuff that I can’t believe.” I regretted saying those words as soon as I said them. It wasn’t a good idea to let these guys know that you came with baggage. It made investing difficult and even more difficult when they knew that you couldn’t control your woman or worse ex-woman. Even though things had progressed somewhat, the fattest cats were almost always men. Anita knew that, she knew that our partnership was beneficial to her as well. The big boys didn’t want to let a measly woman pull a fast one over them.