The Dragon of New Orleans

by Genevieve Jack

  Raven clapped as the band passed, their red tunics standing out against the gold and white of Joan of Arc as she followed on her horse. The sound of trumpets rose in the distance. “This is amazing, Avery. I can’t believe how many of these I’ve missed.”

  “We’ll make up for lost time. I promise. There’s a Randazzo king cake at home with your name on it.”

  “I can’t wait.”

  “Actually, if you’re up for it, I thought we could stop for a drink after this.” Avery glanced her way, and Raven got the distinct impression her sister had an ulterior motive. At only a year apart, the sisters had been close their entire lives. Raven could always tell when Avery had a bee in her bonnet about something.

  “Sure,” Raven said. If Avery was buying drinks, the least she could do was listen.

  As soon as the parade had passed, they walked to the Mahogany Jazz Hall. Small place. Killer lemon-drop martinis. Raven loved the smooth croon of the saxophone and the laughter of her sister as she told stories about her regulars at their family’s pub, the Three Sisters. It seemed there was a local paleontologist from the university who had his eye on her.

  “He asked me if I wanted to come back to his office to look at his bones.”

  Raven snorted. Her sister had never hurt for male attention. She made the Kardashians seem plain with her curvy figure and dark mystique. People used to say Raven resembled her when they were younger, before she developed cancer. Now Raven thought it would be difficult to tell they were related. Unlike Avery’s long, sleek curls, Raven’s hair remained in that awkward growing-out stage. Her chin-length bob frizzed anytime there was an ounce of humidity, a constant in New Orleans. That wasn’t the only difference. Her prolonged illness had left Raven painfully thin. Bony and flat, she’d struggled to put on weight no matter how much she ate. Dr. Freemont had explained that her body had run at a deficit for so long while she was dying that it might take a full year for her to reach and sustain a normal weight.

  “Avery, will you do me a favor? It’s a big one.” Raven played with the stem of her martini glass.

  “Of course,” Avery answered. “What kind of favor? How many drinks will I need to feel good about saying yes?”

  “I want to go kayaking in Manchac Swamp, and I need you to go with me. I can’t drive yet.”

  “Manchac… the haunted swamp with the alligators?” Avery shook her head. “Hell no. Why in the world do you want to do that?”

  “They give tours,” Raven protested. “It’s perfectly safe, especially now when the weather is cool and the gators aren’t moving much.”

  “No,” Avery said, taking another sip. “Why?”

  “I’m finally strong enough. I want to do something… free. I want to feel alive.”

  “Can’t you feel alive on a steamboat cruise?”

  Raven frowned. “No, I can’t. You don’t know what it’s like. I was a prisoner to that bed for months, Avery. Years, if you take out my short remissions. Sometimes I wake up in the middle of the night and I climb up on the roof just because I can, because I can’t stand spending one more minute under those covers. Sometimes I can’t breathe.”

  “You go up on the roof?” Avery seemed genuinely perplexed.

  Raven nodded. “I do. I have to do things I’ve never done before. I have to challenge myself. Life is short, really short. What if the cancer comes back?”

  Avery’s smile faded. “Speaking of challenging yourself, there’s something I need to talk to you about.”

  “Sounds serious.” This was it. Raven had suspected something was coming.

  “Mom and Dad think it’s time you went back to school.”

  “Dad? When did you talk to Dad?” Raven’s miraculous recovery had not been enough to save her parents’ marriage. Her father had divorced her mother and taken a job running a restaurant in the central business district, abandoning the Three Sisters. Her mother had kept the business going with Avery’s help, but Raven could tell it was difficult for her. Raven hadn’t spoken to her father in months. She didn’t care to.

  “Come on, Rave, it’s time. You can’t stay mad at him forever. People get divorced. It’s time to move on.”

  Raven’s stomach tensed and her ears grew hot. “If you think this is about the divorce, you don’t understand anything.”

  “I know he wasn’t at the hospital a lot. Honestly, I wasn’t either. I’m sorry for that…” She trailed off as if she was tempted to say more, make an excuse. She didn’t. “I’m sorry,” she said again.

  “You were there,” Raven said. “Maybe not as much as Mom, but a lot. I never blamed you when you weren’t. You’re not my parent. A parent shouldn’t give up on their kid, and they shouldn’t abandon their spouse.”

  Avery sipped her drink, her eyes drifting from Raven’s. “No. He was wrong. Really wrong.”

  “Thank you.”

  “But you should let him apologize.”

  “I’ve noted your opinion on the matter. Here’s what I think of it.” Raven flipped her the middle finger.

  “Nice.” Avery sighed. “So, what about the school idea?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Aren’t you going to finish your degree?”

  “And have to sit in a classroom or library all day? No. I’ve spent enough days doing things I don’t want to do. I’m alive and I plan to live every day like it’s my last. I want to be outside. I want to see the world. I want to…” She looked up at the ceiling. “I want to fly. I’ve never even been in an airplane.”

  Avery groaned. “You need money to do those things. You had a scholarship to Tulane. Dad thinks you can get it back.”

  There was the rub. Her parents had gone into debt from her medical bills. Her mother had supported her through her recovery, allowing her to share her small apartment with Avery. But Avery worked at the pub and paid rent. Raven had done nothing to contribute for months. This was less about it being time for her to move on and more about it being time for her to chip in.

  “I’ll come to work at the Three Sisters,” Raven said. “No school.”

  Avery leaned back in her chair and crossed her arms. “I can’t say we don’t need the help, but at least listen to what Dad has to say about school.”

  Raven responded by finishing off her second drink. She was feeling a little buzzed. It had been a long time since she’d had this much alcohol, and the Mahogany mixed them strong. Not to mention, she was the definition of a lightweight. She placed the empty at the center of the table. Her sister was acting weird, sitting stiffly across from her with her arms crossed. Avery glanced over her shoulder.

  “Don’t be mad,” she said.

  Raven followed her gaze, then did a double take. “Traitor!”

  “It’s time, Raven. Try to find it in your heart to forgive him.” Avery stood.

  “No. No! Sit back down, Avery.”

  Avery shook her head. Raven’s mouth gaped as her father paused to kiss her sister on the cheek and exchange a few words before crossing the bar to sit down in Avery’s abandoned spot across the table.

  “Hello, Raven,” he said. His voice made her cringe.

  “You’re wasting your time. You and Avery shouldn’t have done this,” she said.

  “We haven’t spent any time together since you left the hospital. You won’t take my calls or return my emails. I want us to get beyond this. Avery was my last hope.”

  “If I wasn’t important enough to spend time with while I was in the hospital, why would you want to spend time with me now?” She swayed in her chair, the alcohol doing its dirty work. She didn’t care. It gave her the courage to speak her mind.

  “Come on now!” he said, his weathered face crinkling at the corners. Her father was thin with a thick head of gray hair, but other than that, he hadn’t aged well. His leathery tan and heavily lined face made him look at least ten years older than her mother despite being the same age. “You know it wasn’t like that. There was nothing I could do to help you. What good would it hav
e done for me to sit in that chair all day and all night?”

  “Good? I’ll tell you what good it did me when Mom and Avery remained by my side. It took the edge off the pain. It helped me remember I was more than my cancer. It was the only thing that reminded me I was still a human being.” She played with the tiny napkin under her empty glass, wishing she had another martini for no other reason than the potential to throw it in his face. Emotions swarmed like angry wasps within her.

  “Do you want me to say I’m sorry? Do you want me to apologize?” His eyes connected with hers. “Well, I am sorry. I am sorry, Raven. I should have been stronger. I should have… I should have been there.”

  She couldn’t tell if he was legitimately sorry or just saying the words. Her father didn’t apologize flippantly as a rule, but the sheer aggressiveness with which the words left his mouth made them hard to swallow.

  “Okay,” she said in a tone clearly meant to placate him and nothing more. “Is there anything else?”

  He shifted his jaw. “It’s time for you to move on with your life. I’ve talked with Admissions. Tulane is willing to take you back. You won’t have to reapply. They’ll make an exception for you, given the circumstances.”

  “You talked to my admissions counselor without me?” Her shoulders tensed, and a muscle in her neck started hurting enough for her to rub it.

  “Someone had to do something, Raven,” he said softly. “You were a straight A student. An honors award recipient. You could finish your degree in a year if you went back full-time. Don’t you think it’s time to get back on the horse?”

  Everything he said was true. She knew it in her heart. Finishing her anthropology degree would be the prudent thing to do. It would be what she would tell someone else to do. But the mere thought of sitting in a classroom made her rub the cramp in the back of her neck harder. She’d spent years of her life in and out of a hospital room. Those four white walls might as well have been bars for how much freedom she’d had over herself. And the cage extended beyond the room. Her defunct immune system and constantly fatigued body restricted everything. She hadn’t actually lived most of her adult life. School was just a different type of cage. A classroom all day and studying all night? She couldn’t do it. Not now, maybe not ever again.

  “No,” Raven said firmly.

  He spread his hands. “Everything will be paid for. It’s all covered.”

  “No,” she said again, this time louder and stronger. “I will not go back to school.”

  His hands hung in the air between them like he was expecting to catch something she was throwing. “Be reasonable. You have to do something constructive with your time. How will you keep yourself busy now that all the PT is over?”

  “I want to travel. I was thinking Paris.”

  His eyes narrowed. “A vacation isn’t a career choice. Don’t you think this… break… has gone on long enough?”

  A hot wind of anger whirled like a cyclone between her ears. She squared her shoulders and stood, crossing her arms. “I am twenty-three years old. I’ve spent almost a quarter of my life dying. I can decide for myself when I’ve had enough living. If you’d spent any time at all in that hospital with me, you would know why I am not ready to waste a single moment sitting in a classroom.” Her voice was quiet and steady. Everyone in the bar was staring now. She didn’t care. “You don’t get to tell me what to do. No one gets to tell me what to do ever again.”

  Deliberately, he closed his mouth and then leveled his gaze on her. “You think this is me telling you what to do?” He snorted. “I have a job. Your mother has a job. Avery has a job. You were sick; I get that. But you are not sick anymore. Life goes on. You’re better than this, Raven. The world needs you. It needs your mind. It needs your skills. It needs your heart. You’ve been given a gift. A second chance. A damned miracle! Why are you wasting it?”

  “I—” Raven revved up to hand him his ass on a platter. Didn’t he understand she had a right to some freedom after what she’d been through? All she was asking for was a little understanding. But he cut her off.

  He held up his hands. “You know what? Never mind. I promised your mother I’d talk to you. I talked to you. You’re an adult. Do what you want.”

  “Wait. Mom asked you to talk to me?” A heavy weight settled over her heart.

  “Yeah, she did. I’m not the bad guy you think I am.” He blew out a long breath of air through his nose. “I’m just trying to help you remember what it is to live as if tomorrow isn’t your last day on Earth. What will happen if the cancer doesn’t come back? You could have a long life ahead of you. It’s time to get busy making a future for yourself.”

  Her head was swimming. She couldn’t listen to this right now. Whirling, she headed for the door.

  “Where are you going?” her father called, rising from his seat to come after her. “Let me drive you home.”

  “I’ll take an Uber,” Raven said.

  “Raven… I’m sorry. Don’t leave like this.”

  This time she could tell without a doubt he was sincere. But she wasn’t ready to forgive him. Part of her was gripping her resentment of him like a well-worn baby blanket he’d have to pry from her tantrum-tightened grip. She closed her eyes against a wave of drunkenness and shifted on her feet. “I need time.”

  This he seemed to understand because he sat back down. Raven left alone.

  The cool night air filled Raven’s lungs as she strode aimlessly along Chartres. Between the argument and the martinis, she felt nauseous. And she’d lied. She didn’t have money for an Uber. Maybe the streetcar though. She’d head in that direction once she sobered up. For now, she chose to walk along Bourbon Street, keen to take in the energy of the people and the lights.

  She milled among the bars and drunken revelers, becoming invisible in the crowd. The night chilled her, even through her light fleece, and she hugged herself against it, but she kept on walking, needing the freedom, the night air. She drifted from Bourbon, from the crowds, from the bars, lost in her own thoughts. How far she’d wandered she wasn’t sure, but she found herself on a dark street in a residential area. Where was she? Likely on the edge of the Quarter by the looks of it. Her head throbbed.

  “Hey. Hey, little lady.”

  She ignored the man yelling from behind her and walked faster, trying to remember where the closest streetcar stop was.

  “You there, little dark-haired chick, where you going?” His tone was crass and didn’t hold the accent of a local.

  She glanced over her shoulder. He looked about thirty and very drunk.

  “Hey, I’m talking to you.” There was a shuffle of footsteps and then a hand clamped around her bicep and turned her roughly. A fog of rum-soaked breath hit her squarely in the face.

  She tried to free herself and failed.

  “You wanna dance?” He forced her against him and swayed to some unheard music.

  “No,” she said, pushing as hard as she could against his chest. “I have to go now.” A more polite response than he deserved. Why was the street so dark? A streetlight was out, she realized. Quickly she tried to turn, to walk away.

  He was on her in an instant. “I asked you to dance. Don’t be a bitch.”

  She struggled, but this time he held her tighter, pinching and hurting. She twisted in his arms. He slid his hands lower to circle her wrists.

  “What do you have there, Mikey?” Another man emerged from between two houses, zipping his fly. He swaggered toward her.

  This was trouble. Warning flags flew in Raven’s head, and she searched for someone, anyone, to call to for help. There was no one. She tried to remember exactly where she was, but she’d been tipsy and angry and hadn’t been paying attention.

  “A new friend,” Mikey blabbered, sending a spray of spit against her cheek.

  “Stop,” she begged. “Leave me alone.” She twisted more forcefully. Already exhausted and still recovering physically, she was easily overcome. The harder she struggled, the more it seem
ed to incite them.

  The first man grabbed her by the shoulders; the other man moved in fast from behind her.

  “Let me go!” she shouted, but his hand slapped over her mouth.

  “Do it fast, man. I’ll hold her,” the second man said.

  Do what fast? Full panic embraced her. She bit, scratched, and kicked like a wildcat. In her weakened state, she might not be strong enough to overpower them, but she wouldn’t make it easy. By force of pure adrenaline, she managed to twist out of the man’s grip. Unfortunately, the other man’s legs were between hers and she tripped in her effort to escape. Raven fell hard, the side of her head slapping the sidewalk with a sickening hollow thunk.

  The world spun. Warm wet blood trickled near the corner of her eye. She tried to blink it away. Her head throbbed and a wave of nausea rolled through her.

  “I got her,” the one called Mikey said. He was on top of her in an instant, rolling her onto her back. His weighty body knocked the breath from her lungs. His hand worked between their bodies.

  She had to get up. She needed to run. Her head swam. Spots circled in her vision.

  And then Mikey was gone.

  Cold air washed over her in a rush. The man ascended into the air, straight up. She watched him rise and rise into the star-filled sky until she thought he might hit the moon. His pants were open and his junk dangled from his fly. His arms and legs flailed like a newborn’s.

  She couldn’t process what was happening. Was she hallucinating? Was it the alcohol?

  Whatever power it was that had levitated him abruptly gave out. He dropped like a rock, his body slapping the street next to her with a crunch. He did not get up. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth.

  Confused, Raven tried to rise, but nothing worked right. It hurt to move, and the black dots circling in her vision were expanding. She heard feet strike gravel and pavement nearby. Someone running. She couldn’t see him, but she recognized the second man’s voice crying, “No, no, please no!”

  There was a thud. She didn’t hear that man again.

  More footsteps. These were slow, deliberate; dress shoes on pavement. She blinked helplessly toward the street, her cheek pressed against the curb. Her attacker’s blood spilled onto the asphalt… or was that her blood? There was so much of it she couldn’t tell anymore.