by Sienna Mynx
“Is he going to give you the divorce?”
“In exchange for my daughters happiness, yes. I get the divorce. I get a settlement of alimony for about five million. And the house in Shreveport, and the property in Martha’s Vineyard. All I have to do is sign off every right I have to the distillery and the Larue name. He can go to hell. I’ll clean bathrooms before I agree to it.”
“No you won’t, mama,” I say sadly.
“My children. What kind of mother have I been?”
“A loving one, I swear we could all do much worse.”
“There are things you don’t know about me.”
“There are things we don’t know about each other,” I correct her. “And that’s okay mama. You are entitled to your secrets. We both are. It makes us imperfect. I’m okay with being imperfect now.”
My mother gives me a sad smile. “Yes. I’m okay with imperfection too.”
“Take the settlement, Ma. You and I both know what happens to you if you don’t. You will be cut off. Daddy has enough money and power here in Louisiana to keep you in courts for years. And me? I don’t have a job.”
“You got a brain don’t you? Get a job. We can both get one, dammit!”
My eyes stretch. My mother never curses. She lowers her gaze in shame. She sighs and drops back in her seat. “I raised you wrong. I raised you weak, Coco. If you do this sweetheart, you can’t undo it. Some things can’t be undone. If he’s the man you love don’t take the easy road. Fight for him. Don’t make the mistakes I’ve made.”
“Easy? Nothing about this is easy mama. And fight for what? He’s part of that family that hurt Nathan and Bobby. I’m part of the family that has taken his life from him. Do you know they say Brick will never be able to play the saxophone again? I destroyed the most special thing in the world to him with my games. How long before he blames me for it? How long before he hates me like I hate myself.”
“I’m so sorry.”
“Grand-mère is right. We don’t belong together. Love or not. It can’t last. I’ll marry Xavier and get through this election with him. And then I’m going for freedom. Grand-mère says after Xavier goes into the Senate and Daddy will run for Mayor. Everyone gets what they want. And I can walk away.”
“She’s lying to you.”
“Well, I’m lying to her, too. I just need a year or two. I can apply for some of the big publishing houses in New York.”
“It’s a trap, Coco. Listen to me, baby, it’s a trap. I know her. You can’t trust her.”
“I know that, mama. But you and I need to fight back. Set a trap of our own. Take the money mama. All of it. And in two years we’ll walk away from them forever.”
My mother reaches across the table and squeezes my hand. These past few weeks I’ve felt closer to her than I have ever in my life. She deserves to be happy. And I’m going to make sure that happens.
“Support me mama. Trust me. You didn’t raise me weak. And grand-mère didn’t raise me stupid. We’ll beat daddy. Eventually.”
My mom cries. I hold her hand and let her cry. Lord knows I’ve shed buckets of tears since this nightmare began. We then smile and talk for an hour about everything. I tell her about the Bondurants and the four-story cabin in the bayou. I tell her about Evangeline, and mama says she knows her. She says Evangeline has always been an abused and troubled girl, but she never knew where she disappeared too. It’s the seasoning I need to be a woman. With growth comes pain. I feel wiser even if I feel weaker. And when it’s all done I know I’ll be alright with my mother at my side.
Chapter Twenty-One
Six Weeks Later -
“So what you going to do?” Marcel asks. He sits across from me in my flat. He’s dressed in a black suit with a black bowtie. Today is the day. It’s the day my woman marries the wrong man. And my best friend has the nerve to ask me what I plan to do.
When I don’t answer, Marcel sighs. He stands and picks up the saxophone case. “You sure about this man? Fuck. Are you sure?”
“I’m sure,” I mumble.
Marcel nods and walks out. That’s it. It’s done. Six weeks ago, and every day after, I fought to heal. It took longer than I wanted. But soon I was able to walk again, talk again, then I was released to my family. The war was over. Pops got enough justice to stand down the Larue’s and back off the cops. He also crushed the Vietnamese gangs that were moving into N’awlins. He was on top again and feeling generous. So he let me keep my place in the Quarter. And backed off from going after the rest of the Larue men. I thought that would be enough. But nothing I did or tried could get me in contact with Coco.
Smoke told me she was in Shreveport. When I was strong enough I drove there. I found her mother’s house and demanded to see her. I was told she was in New York interviewing for jobs. I asked for her number and was turned down. The only way left to me to contact her was through Marcel. And he told me more than once that she didn’t want to see me. She didn’t want to talk to me. Now today he sits in my fucking place and asks me what I’m going to do about it.
Ever had your heart broken? Crushed and shattered like glass? Ever had your dreams stolen? The doctor said I won’t be able to play the saxophone the way I had before again. I believe him. My mouth feels funny, my desire to improvise has slipped away. I can’t even look at the fucking instrument. Today may be her wedding day but for me it feels like a funeral. Hers and mine.
“You look so beautiful,” Georgie says.
I stare at myself in my wedding dress. I turn to the side and look at all the fancy expense poured into the garment for me to wear, for one day. I hate the dress. I hate myself.
“You still ain’t talk to him huh?”
“I can’t. If I see him, if I talk to him, I’ll break. I know it.”
Georgie sighs. She shakes her head. “Did your mama and daddy sign the papers?”
“After the wedding, daddy is going to sign.”
“What if he don’t?” Georgie asks.
“He will. I have to play the part of the dutiful wife, remember?”
“Damn. This is so messed up, Coco. All of it. I hate it for you,” Georgie says. I can’t argue the point. This is the worst day of my life. And she and I both know it. There’s a knock at the door. Georgie goes to answer it. I pull my veil down over my face. I can’t look at myself. I want to go through the rest of my life with a veil over my face.
“Coco? This is for you.”
I turn and look to see Georgie holding Brick’s saxophone case. Since I’ve known him Brick has never been separated from the thing. My heart flutters with nervousness.
“Is he here? Did he come here for me?” I ask.
“No. No. Calm down. He’s not here. Marcel brought it.”
“Why?” I ask and flip the veil up from my face.
“You don’t know?” Georgie asks.
“Why he would he think I would want his saxophone?”
I find a chair and sit down in it. Georgie takes the saxophone case over to the bed in the room. I watch her as she unlocks the case and flips it open. “There’s a letter in here.”
“For me?” I ask.
“Yeah, you want it?”
I nod and try to hold back my tears. Georgie brings it over to me. My hands are shaking I find it hard to touch the letter. Georgie sits on the bed. If I weren’t such a coward I would read the letter myself. But I can’t. I just can’t. I hand it back to Georgie. She accepts it and starts to read.
Coco,
Jezebel’s yours. The first time I played her for you she belonged to you. Maybe you can give her a name. I wasn’t able too. Maybe you can give her all the things I wanted you to give me. Do you remember what you told me the first night we met? I think you said it was Corelli Mandolin's interpretation of love. You said love between a man and a woman is a temporary madness. That’s true. You make me crazy, Coco. And ain’t nothing temporary about it. I thought of coming into that church with my father’s men and dragging you out the Cajun way. I laid awake a
t night thinking about it a lot. I found countless reasons to force you to be mine, and I still want to try. I’m still not able. Because I don’t want you by force. I want you to want me. It’s clear now to me that you don’t. That’s my madness.
Marcel and your mother told me that you say it’s over. Why is that, cher? Is it because you never loved me? Is it because you never trusted me? When you look past the veil that covers your face today do you see me, or what’s left of me, now? Do you blame me for what happened to your brothers? You should, because if I ever see any of them again I’ll kill them and feed them to the gators for taking you away from me. Do you hate me now, Coco? Because I hate you, I hate everything we shared, everything I believed, I hate you. I guess this is the end of our story. Me figuring out that a girl like you was never worth the effort. And you going on with your fake life. It changes nothing. Even if I tell myself every day I hate you I still know the truth. He doesn’t have you. He can’t touch you the way I have, he won’t love you the way I do. Fuck him for trying. And the hell with you for giving up on me.
Brick
Georgie looks up at me with shock. I cry. Georgie rushes over to me. She holds my face. “Don’t do it, Coco. There’s still time. Don’t do this. Call off the wedding.”
“He hates me. You heard him.”
“Brick’s a liar. All men are liars when they in pain. He hates what you are doing. He doesn’t hate you. Coco, stop crying. You’ll ruin your makeup. Stop, okay?”
I can’t stop. I can’t stop any of this. It’s too late. And that letter proves it. Brick is right. I chose to live a lie, and it will change nothing.
I take out what most would think is a cigarette. It’s a nicely rolled joint. I lean against the tree with the muggy hot August wind to my back and l light it. The bells of the church ring. I drag on the marijuana and it soothes my anger. Just a bit. Enough to keep me there, against the tree, instead of charging inside of the church.
The doors of the church open and the guests exit first. There’s plenty of people dressed in nice fancy dresses and looking distinguished. People are hugging and laughing. After a few minutes the wedding party comes out to applause. It’s not long before I see the happy couple. Everyone is blowing bubbles at them. A pearl white Rolls Royce waits for them. The man she chose sweeps her up into his arms for everyone to see and the crowd cheers. I wish I could say I see her face, or that she sees mine. But it happens so quickly and she’s ushered into the car so swiftly I get a single glance of her before she’s gone.
I watch her drive away with the family waving. She’s probably headed to some expensive hotel for her reception. I’ve seen enough. I put out the joint and slip it into my pocket. My yellow corvette was totaled. Pops handed over a red Ferrari to replace it. Once I’m behind the wheel and on the road zipping between cars, I find a new place to channel my anger. It belongs back in the bayou with the people who know me best. I go home.
Fuck New Orleans.
I’m numb. After the wedding when I came out of the church, I saw Brick. He was across the street leaning against a tree. Xavier picked me up and swung me around. I tried to get another look at him but I couldn’t. I was then pushed into the car. From the car I couldn’t see the tree. I couldn’t see him. It was over.
We’re married and it’s over.
The suite they secured for us is as nice as all the others I’ve stayed in since I was a girl. I’m numb to champagne and caviar. I’d rather my honeymoon be spent in the bayou in Brick’s arms. Xavier carried me across the threshold. I was grateful when he put me down. I walk through the suite that came with butler service and went to our room. His mother and sisters decorated the room. There are rose petals all over the bed. I can’t look at it. The damn thing makes my stomach queasy. I walk over to the vanity dresser and start to take the baby breath out of my hair.
“I can take the sofa, you can take the bed,” he says.
I glance over to him confused. “What?”
“Don’t pretend you want to sleep with me, Coco,” he says.
“I pretended I wanted to marry you. What’s the difference?”
He steps forward with his hands in his pockets. “It’s an arrangement. You’re going to give me what I need, you and your father are going to help me get that Senate seat. And in return you can go to New York and write those stories you want. Be a big success. This,” he nods to the bed. “This won’t happen.”
“Xavier?”
He stops from walking out.
“Why did you really want to marry me? You could have married any woman, and got the legitimacy you wanted. Why this? Why did it have to be me?”
“Because you come from my world. Our world of secrets. And I know that even though you don’t love me you won’t betray me. You’ll keep my secret.”
“You’re gay. Aren’t you?”
“Gay marriage may be legal and accepted, but a gay black man can never be Senator in Louisiana. Not yet.”
“Does my father know?”
Xavier laughs. “Does it matter? He doesn’t care about your happiness or who I prefer to fuck. Just as long as he gets through doors I can open for him. My family doesn’t know. No one does. Remember all those trips I take with my boys. Well his name is Demetrius. And we’re in love. He’s my campaign manager. He’ll be moving into to our new house once it’s built.” Xavier walks toward me. “If you can prove to me that you can be discreet, you can fuck that swamp rat you love so much in the bayou. For now, we play the role, until we don’t have too. G’night.”
Xavier walks out. A deep mournful sigh escapes me. My head turns and I come face to face with myself in the mirror. Brick was right.
This is the beginning of my lie.
PART TWO
Quand il me prend dans ses bras, Il me parle tout bas, Je vois la vie en rose.
When he takes me in his arms, and speaks to me softly, I see the world through rose colored glasses.
Canal Street, New Orleans
August 2, 2016
Chapter Twenty-Two
Time changes people. I wish instead it had the ability to erase every mistake I’ve ever made. Much like the way childhood memories fade to protect you from the trauma of adolescences. I’m still the same selfish coward I was four years ago. Today I have to be and do better.
My best friend is getting married and I have to face my biggest regret—woman up—and support her like she has always supported me. I’m twenty-six now, and I’ve not stepped foot in New Orleans in over three years. I’ve returned to be the matron of honor, or maybe I should be called the maid of honor since I’m now divorced. Either way there is nothing honorable about my failed personal life.
To be honest, there’s not much honesty left in me. In the past three years my father has been elected as Mayor of Shreveport. My brothers have all moved to Texas. And Nathan who the family spent a fortune on plastic surgery to give him some kind of normal life, runs the distillery and lives with his new wife in Lafayette. My mother and her sister Stacey are enjoying the single life. They’ve buried their past differences. Stacey refused the expectations of their family when she was younger and ran off and eloped with a man unacceptable to our privileged world. She resented my mother for not supporting her. Now they are together, both divorced, and sisters again. They’ve been doing traveling, and spending time with me in New York. My grand-mère lives with my father and his new wife in Shreveport. His wife is my age, and pregnant with their first child.
The biggest turn of events in my life is the fate of my now ex-husband. Three weeks before the people of Louisiana were to cast their vote and make him the first black-Creole Republican United States Senator a sex tape leaked of his affair with a handsome young man named Demetrius Clairemont. The scandal shocked everyone in our community. And I the, betrayed wife, got a nice settlement and speedy divorce only a year into our marriage. Finally, I was feee.
I don’t speak to anyone in the family. I’ve moved on. That’s why I thought I could do this. Return to
the past and ignore my biggest regret, the same way I’ve ignored the painful consequences of my sacrifices. I really believed I could. But N’awlins is already starting to wear down on me.
I have that tingly feeling of nervousness a girl gets in her fingers that spreads through to her palms and cause them to sweat. It’s followed by the fluttering bat wings in her stomach from the deepest recesses of her fears. It’s the same dreadful tension I felt the day I broke his heart and my own.
Brick sits to the far left corner of the restaurant with his back to no one. I'm late and I can see the frustration on his face. By the way his face is still handsome. Time has healed his wounds. There’s no evidence of the violence that tore us apart. He looks impatient, but seasoned. He’s different. I can’t wait to tell him that I am too. He checks his watch and glances around the restaurant. It’s childish to keep him waiting but I can’t move. Not yet.
Should I stay?
Should I go?
The questions whirl in my mind. Instead of running for the door I side-step the hostess who is taking two customers to their seats. I keep him in the line of my vision without revealing myself. My cell phone beeps. When I check the display I can see his text.
Brick: Hey? What time are you getting here? I got a table for us 2 the back.
Brick: ?????
Brick: Are you coming or not Coco?
I glance up in time to see he too is staring at his cell phone waiting for my reply. Georgie gave him my number. The very first text I received from him was a week ago, asking if we should meet to help plan the festivities. I nearly dropped my phone during a dress rehearsal for my play. I wanted to call him. Hear his voice. Ask him everything about his life, his health, his happiness. All I could say is sure and ask him the time and place.