by Kira Saito
“Edmond, what’s wrong? Did you have too much bread pudding with praline sauce?” My voice was a fake mask of concern. I played the part perfectly and savored every minute of it.
“My insides are burning,” he gasped. “The words the words I want to.” A dramatic gargle escaped his throat and interrupted him in mid-sentence. “Blood.” He suddenly became conscious of the fact that he was bleeding and starting to foam at the mouth like a wild beast.
“Poor sweet Edmond.” I lovingly stroked his cheek and put my arms around him. “You feel like a prisoner, don’t you? It’s such a terrible feeling having all of that fire being bundled up inside of you, isn’t it?”
“It feels like peppers, hot peppers.” His eyes turned red and started to rapidly squint. I could see that he was struggling to retain his grip on reality as he watched the shadows dance on the walls around us. “Shadows and spirits,” he moaned as he pointed to the candle flame. “Ghost, ghouls, sinners, saints, Mary and Jesus. I’ve sinned haven’t I? God is punishing me. I’m going to Hell. The flames of Hell are all around me. They’re consuming me. Oh Lord, sweet Cecile, death has come for me!”
I bit my tongue to stifle my laughter and once I was composed I let out a sweet dainty laugh. “Spirits, sins, and punishment? Don’t be silly. You’re probably having a bad reaction to something you ate or drank. Wait here. I’ll go grab some water for you. I swear it’ll make it all better.” I got up from the ground and gave him a sickly sweet smile before I turned my back on him.
“No, please don’t leave me. Please,” he begged. His expression was completely innocent and I felt remorse take a hold of me.
“I’ll only be a minute. I promise.”
As I made my way back to the pantry I cursed myself for not having the guts to let him suffer more. My original plan had been to leave him in agony all night but after twenty minutes I had caved. I took the Edmond doll out of its corner and burned it and let out a little sigh. It had been fun while it lasted and so liberating. I filled glass with water and did my best to keep the guilt off of my face.
When I got back to the bedroom Edmond was still in the same miserable position I had left him in but his nose had stopped bleeding and his pupils were no longer diluted. I helped him up off the ground and brought the glass of water to his lips. “Are you okay?” I whispered. I needed to know the answer more for myself than out of concern for him. If I had killed him I wouldn’t have been able to live with myself, which confused me because I completely despised him.
He nodded. “Thank you, my sweet Cecile, you’re my angel. I know that no harm could truly come to me as long as you are mine.”
Those words sent a shiver down my spine.
Chapter Seventeen
Drama, Tension, and Plenty of Angst at the Théâtre d'Orléans
Théâtre d'Orléans
New Orleans, 1853
The luxurious and undeniably magical Théâtre d'Orléans with its exquisitely detailed Doric columns, spacious pit, large gallery, two-tiers of boxes, and glittering chandeliers was only one of the reasons why New Orleans had quickly become the opera capital of the country. I soaked in the intoxicating blend of sweet and spicy Parisian perfume that engulfed me, admired the splendidly dressed people that filled the opera house, and let the spellbinding music of Le Chalet carry me away.
Displays of shameless wealth and luxury were everywhere, such as the tiaras that rested on heads, the elegantly-painted fans that were held in hands, the dazzling jewels that hung around swan-like necks, and the silk and satin that embraced smooth skin. For a moment I panicked and wondered if the sleeveless wine-red silk gown with its velvet bodice and exquisite lace, pearl, and tiny diamond trim was the proper choice for the night’s performance. At affairs such as these it always seemed as if everyone else was better dressed than me.
The opera was the one thing that all wealthy Creoles, regardless of whether they were white or colored, loved and flocked to in droves every autumn and winter. Perhaps it was the dramatic nature of the performances that resonated so well with the crowd because we found them to parallel our own lives.
The theatre, like so many other aspects of society within the city, was built on intricate layers of contradictions. Both colored and white people were admitted into the theatre but had to sit in separate tiers, which meant it was perfectly fine for a white gentleman to sit with his real family in the first tier while having his mistress and other children look down on them from the second tier. Needless to say, the air was always full of tension, drama, and plenty of angst- case in point, Maman, who sat next to me looking radiant in a dark green satin gown with a dangerously low décolleté. Despite her refined appearance I could sense that she was nervous because she waved her fan furiously and kept looking at the first tier in hopes of catching a glimpse of Papa.
I was extra relieved to get out tonight because the theatre was one of the few places that Edmond could not be publicly seen with me, so I didn’t have to put up with his company all night; but I did have to worry about his ever-watchful eye.
Two weeks had passed since I had cast the infamous Keep a Big Man Down spell and life had returned to normal. Edmond and I continued our relationship as if nothing had happened and I dreaded every moment of it. Every touch, every scoff, and every condescending remark drove me closer to the edge of madness. I was beginning to fear that if I didn’t do something soon I would simply explode.
Each and every day this sense of desperation and urgency was growing and growing, but I didn’t know where to turn. I had seriously considered taking Tante Celeste up on her offer but had talked myself out of it mostly because I didn’t want Edmond’s ghost to haunt me for eternity.
Inside I was a ball of tightly-knit nerves because I was dreading seeing Edmond walk in with his wife, secretly dying to catch a glimpse of Lucus, and also praying that Antoine would stop by our box and say hello because I missed him so much. I kept casting glances at the Dupart box and hoped that Antoine would somehow read my mind and come over, but so far he seemed enthralled by the opera and was singing along like he always did. He knew every word to every single opera played at theatre, which was both remarkable and a little frightening.
“What are you staring at?” Maman glared at me in disapproval.
“The crowd,” I lied and quickly turned my attention to the tier below me. I was randomly observing the crowd when my eyes rested on a pair of broad shoulders and locks of glossy dark hair that I instantly recognized. I panicked and hid behind my fan even though there was a large dim gulf between us.
“Cecile! Have you gone mad!” Maman hissed and yanked the fan away from my face.
“No.” I grabbed the fan back from her and looked down below again. As if he had somehow sensed my presence, Lucus caught me blatantly staring at him, which prompted me to freeze. I wasn’t sure if I should smile or quickly turn my head away and pretend that nothing had happened. Before I could make up my mind he threw me a quick wink, a knowing grin and then mouthed the words, Good evening my Chalotte. Beautiful spirit.
I had to take several short breaths to keep my cool. I fanned myself shyly and gave him a small smile. Then boldly and without thinking I mouthed, Good evening my DincIusin. I reminded myself that this was nothing than… I wasn’t sure what it was. Lies. It didn’t matter what it was, because the last thing I wanted was a repeat of what had happened the last time I had interacted with him.
I looked away when I heard Maman start to cry. I knew that she had spotted Papa and his family and the tears would go on all night. Surely enough, in the distance I saw his auburn hair and his wife’s shiny blonde locks, along with the angelic blond curls of their two little boys. My brothers. The brothers I would never have a chance to meet or openly associate with. No matter how many times I saw them, the sting of jealousy I felt never seemed to vanish. I placed my arms around her and held her. “It’s okay,” I whispered.
She fanned herself and gave me a tight, unconvincing smile. I let my eyes wander over
the sea of spectators, hoping that Lucus would turn around again, when I felt another pair of eyes on me. A horrible uneasiness crawled up from the tips of my toes and grabbed me by the throat. I knew exactly who it was. Her hazel eyes held look of hatred and disapproval that made my blood run cold. Her rose-colored lips were turned down in a melancholy frown, and I was mortified.
It was Edmond’s beautiful wife and it was clear that she knew about me and did not approve of her husband’s arrangement. I wanted to shout, He’s all yours please keep him, but that wouldn’t have been very appropriate. My heart ached for her and I wished that somehow I could do say or do something to make everything better. Edmond gave her a stern nudge and she quickly turned around. The night progressed and I felt as if I were trapped in a grotesque nightmare in which the only light was the few times Lucus turned around and gave me one of his toe-curling smiles.
The music died and the audience cheered as the first act came to an end. Maman excused herself to say hello a neighbor; as soon as she left my focus turned back to Antoine’s box. Elation filled me as he got up out of his seat and his tall thin frame made its way towards me.
“Antoine!” I gave him a huge bone-crushing hug not caring who saw and what they thought about me. My Antoine was as handsome and as snobby as ever with his grey Parisian waistcoat, crisp shirt and a green silk tie which was the exact shade as his eyes.
“Cecile.” He abruptly released himself from my embrace and studied me carefully, with concern. “How are you?”
I didn’t want to be fake with him so I let all of the pent-up emotion out. “You were right, mon ami. You were so right. It’s awful. I feel so awful. I despise him and I despise myself even more for thinking that this was for the best. This arrangement has turned into a horrific nightmare that I cannot wake up from. ” I waved away my tears with my fan. I didn’t want anyone asking questions or gossiping the next day.
Antoine’s eyes hardened and the muscles in his jaw tensed as he looked down at the first tier. His nostrils flared and I could feel his anger as his eyes rested on the back of Edmond’s head. There was an agonizing silence and I had to break it.
“Antoine.” I shook him lightly until he snapped out of his angst.
His eyes met mine and he took my hand into his and gave it a tight squeeze. “Cecile, don’t let him do this to you. As your friend I’m asking you, please. If I could I would challenge him to a duel myself but you know that’s not possible.” I could feel his frustration and knew exactly how he felt. “The thought of you being hurt in any way infuriates me to no end.”
“I’m going to end it,” I said quickly. “I don’t care what happens. I know Tante Celeste will let me stay with her and Maman will just have to get over the shame.” I let out a low sigh and tried my best to sound brave, when in reality I knew that words were easy to say and a lot harder to carry through on. Once you were disgraced within the elite Creole community, regardless of your color, it was pretty much over for you.
“And you, mon ami? How have you been?” I changed the subject because I didn’t want what precious time we had left wasted on my drama.
He grudgingly spoke. “I’ve been accepted into Law School in Paris.”
“Paris? That’s wonderful!” I was so excited for him.
He brushed off my excitement as if it were nothing. “I suppose. I still believe it was Pierre who got me into the school.”
“Oh please!” I gave him a playful nudge. “You’re a genius and you know it! The fact that your brother-in-law happens to teach at one of the most prestigious universities in France does not mean that you got in because of him. You’re meant to do great things, Antoine! You’ll come back to New Orleans and defend the rights of all us heathens.”
He laughed. “We’re meant to do great things.”
I smiled at him genuinely and felt full of hope. I quickly looked over the balcony at Edmond and was determined that no matter what happened I would no longer be his slave.
“Cecile?” he whispered.
“Yes?” I asked as I turned my attention back to him.
“Don’t forget…”
“I know what you’re about to say,” I cut him off.
He gave me a proud smile. “I think my heathen is finally beginning to see the light.”
I grinned and looked over the rail and at the back of Lucus’ head. “Perhaps I am.”
Chapter Eighteen
Black Dust's Got Me Walking on All Fours Like a Cat
Cecile LaNuit’s Home, Rue de Rampart
New Orleans, 1853
That evening after the opera I lay in bed and thought of how exactly I would tell Edmond that I was no longer in need of his all-so-generous protection. It wasn’t easy as simply saying, I no longer want your protection, because the harsh truth was the protector was the one who decided that he was no longer in need of his placée rather than the other way around. Thankfully, Edmond hadn’t come over tonight, probably because he was waltzing with his wife at the Salle d’Orleans. I was grateful because it gave me extra time to plot and plan. Some were reasonable and rational plots, while others were a little controversial:
Gettin' sick and tired of the way you do
'Time, Mama, I'm gonna poison you
Sprikle goofer dust around your bed
Wake up some mornin', find your own self dead.
I got out of bed and paced from one end of the room to other. A harsh wind whipped through the room and brought with it the repulsive scent of death, rot, and misery from the nearby river. It blew out the pink candle I had lit earlier and left me in complete darkness. The room grew so incredibly cold that every inch of my body was immediately covered in goose bumps. A wretched weeping so pitiful and soul-crushing filled the air and I knew that something tragic had happened or was about to happen.
“Oshun?” I whispered into the darkness, as I hugged myself in a feeble attempt to keep warm.
“Why!” she moaned. “Why?”
I quickly ran to my dresser opened a drawer and pulled out a jar of honey I kept hidden under a pile of jewelry.
“Please stop! Please,” I begged, as I held out the honey into the darkness. Her screams were deafening. “Where are you exactly? What are you trying to tell me?”
There was a flash of light and I saw her clearly, dressed in a white blood-stained gown. She was a gruesome beacon of light amidst the darkness of the room. Her inky eyes glimmered ethereally and she clutched her pumpkin purse to her chest dearly as if it would be snatched from her at any second.
“I have honey,” I said feebly.
“I don’t want your honey! I warned you but you wouldn’t listen and now he’s going to hurt you even more. Go protect yourself! Go now!”
“Ms. Cecile!” Justine burst into the room. “Ms. Cecile! Monsieur is here! Why is this room so dark?”
“Justine, please tell Monsieur I’m ill, that I can’t see him tonight. Please,” I pleaded hoping that she would somehow understand.
She nodded. “Of course.”
After she left I placed the honey down on my dresser, closed the door and pressed my ear against it.
“Ill? What do you mean she’s ill? She was perfectly fine when I saw her at the opera,” Edmond scoffed. My heart sank.
“It happened so suddenly. She’s in bed and has requested that no one visits her,” Justine said feebly and without much conviction.
“Don’t lie to me you savage! Get out of my way! Cecile! Open this door now!” He started to obnoxiously bang the door and with each bang my body trembled uncontrollably.
I took a deep breath and opened the door. What was the point of hiding? The tyrant had to be brought to his knees. As I opened the door Oshun’s wails started to get louder and louder but I ignored them. “What Edmond? What is it?”
He stood before me with cheeks and eyes ablaze. Little drops of rain rested on his thick black cape and I could see that he had drunk too much wine, as his lips were stained a ruddy color. He stood in the doorway and simply
stared at me as he always did right before he was about to start one of his rants.
I wasn’t going to take it. I thought of the conversation I had with Antoine and a sudden spark of courage ignited within me. The flame I had been oppressing for so long was about to burst. “What is it, Edmond?”
“Who is he?” he asked.
“What are you talking about?”
He leaned against the doorway. “The man you were speaking to at the opera.”
“A childhood friend,” I replied calmly.
His eyes narrowed and the fine veins on his forehead started to throb. “How many times have I told you are not to speak to any gentlemen as long as you are under my protection?” he asked furiously. “How many times do I have to remind you that you’ll no longer have my protection as long as you keep stepping out of your place? Know your place, Cecile.”
Perhaps it was the condescending tone or the arrogant smirk that his lips held that caused me to lose all control and brush aside the very real threat of him having me whipped, jailed, killed, disgraced. At that moment all sense of fear and logic flew out of the window and the words that came out of my mouth were the ones I had wished I had spoken the first night I slept with him. “I don’t want your stupid protection any longer!” I screamed, as I clenched my fists. “I no longer want to see you or have anything to do with you. I’m sorry Edmond, you may be happy with the match, but I am absolutely miserable and I now longer want to play the part of the noble victim. I’ve got a life to live as well! If you’re entitled to a life than why aren’t I? What makes you so superior?”
At my words Oshun stopped her incessant wailing and got up from the ground and stood behind me. She began to softly laugh and clap as if I had done something extraordinarily momentous.
The muscles in Edmond’s face relaxed and he placed his hand against my forehead. “Justine said that you were ill. The words coming out of your mouth are a part of whatever affliction you’re suffering from, so I’ll pretend that I didn’t hear them, because clearly your illness has made you forget where we live and who you’re speaking to.”