I’m thrilled that he knows me, but confused at his reaction to hearing about my father. I don’t know if I should remind him that my dad died in the war. Maybe not; I don’t want to lose this moment. I say, “I’m glad we finally made it here—Mom and I.”
“Yes. Have I shown you my doubloon collection?”
“No, what’s a doubloon?”
“Let’s go see,” he says. He hops up out of his chair with excitement. It’s hard to believe this is the same man I’ve been passing by all these days.
I follow him to the first bedroom, the one Ellie said wasn’t used for anything but storage. He turns the knob; it doesn’t open easily. He shakes it and gives the door a push at the same time. The door opens and it makes a sound like it was held closed with suction. Inside the room is filled with old radios and TV sets. Most of them sit with parts missing, and there’s a large shelf filled with parts.
Once inside the room I see that there’s a workbench against the wall that’s hidden by the door. He closes the door, and that makes me feel a little uneasy for some reason. I figure it must just be because he doesn’t seem like himself, at least not as I know him.
He shuffles through things in a box that sits on the floor. It almost looks like a toy box. I keep an eye on the door.
“Aha!” he says. He has a large photo album, so thick that it is nearly half-open when he sets it on his workbench. He sits on the stool and looks up at me with an expression that tells me he forgot I was here. I worry that he’s lost already when he says, “Raina, you sit here.”
He stands up and offers me his stool.
“No, Grandpa, it’s ok, I can stand.”
He looks like he’s thinking for a moment, and then he dismisses whatever idea he couldn’t quite reach. He sits down and pulls me closer. He opens the book. They’re coins, large coins of all different colors. They’re kept neatly in plastic covers with individual pouches for each coin. No, not coin—doubloon. This is his doubloon collection. I look from them to him. The light from his workbench bounces off the shiny doubloons and sheds colorful light on him. He looks like an angel.
“Now these here are from 1937. That was before I was born, of course; my father collected these. And then 1938, and only two in 1939, but there are seven from 1940. He said he regretted not getting more in ’39, so he went home with more in ’40.”
They all have images on them, and they’re so festive. “Grandpa, these are from Mardi Gras?”
“Well, of course, girl,” he says, like I asked the silliest question he’s ever heard.
“Of course,” I repeat.
“These are from the floats. You have to get up close to get these, and they’re not easy to catch. You have to pick them up off the ground. But see, everyone wants the beads. Those ridiculous, cheap beads.” He shakes his head.
He goes through the book, page by page, and I watch and listen. He goes through the ones his father brought home, and then he gets to 1954, when he brought his first one home. He is filled with pride. So am I.
When he gets to 1992 there are no more. He lets out a sigh. “Well, that’s it,” he says.
I don’t know why they stop there. Instead of asking why, I say, “Wow, that was amazing. I can’t wait for my first Mardi Gras. Can I add to the collection?”
He looks at me and says, “Why yes, Ellie, you can.”
I back away and he closes the book. “Thank you for showing me,” I say.
“You’re welcome,” he says without looking at me. He gets up from his stool and we leave the room. He closes the door and has to give a strong pull to shut it all the way.
I sit back down at the table and find the ice in my coffee has melted. He sits down next to me and says, “Now, where was I?”
I have no interest in drinking my diluted coffee so I pour it out in the kitchen. I tell him, “I’m going to my room for a while.”
“Ok,” he says.
I shut the door and lay on my bed. I’d like to fall back to sleep, but my mind is filled with questions. All those doubloons, collected every single year since 1939, and then they just stop. Could it be because his kids were teenagers and they didn’t want to collect them anymore? Why didn’t he go out and collect them anyway? Why didn’t Ellie collect them? If I’d lived here all my life, I would have gone to the parade and picked them up for him. I think all those doubloons are awesome. I want to get some.
I text Ellie; maybe she has some answers. “Hey, wanna have lunch?”
A few minutes later she replies, “Sure, I’m working today but you can meet me at the café. Say at noon?”
“Sure. I’ll be there.” I’m satisfied. I set my phone down on the nightstand, curl up in my quilt, and fall asleep.
***
I’m walking through a forest. The trees are tall and the plants are overgrown. There are vines that hang between the trees. I’ve been following a narrow path. I don’t know how I got here or where I’m going, but I feel the need to keep moving. Since the path ends here, I should turn and go back the way I came. Maybe going back will help me remember where I’m going. I turn around and the path is gone. I look to my left, and then to my right—no path. I spin around, trying to find a way out, but all I find is that I’m dizzy and lost.
I hear something. I don’t know what, but it’s getting closer. It’s the sound of breaking branches. Someone is breaking through these plants. Then I recognize something else—it’s an elephant. It’s getting louder fast, and I know it will be on top of me soon if I don’t move out of the way, but there’s nowhere for me to go. It’s getting louder, it’s almost here. Think fast! I throw myself backward into the plants and feel myself fall for longer than possible. When I finally hit the ground I sit up and see an elephant run by me, and then it’s gone. Sitting on top of the elephant was my father. The elephant was decorated with all different colors of paint, and jewels that sparkled as it ran by. Dad was sitting on a quilt that covered the elephant’s back. He was holding onto the edge of the quilt; he didn’t look as though he was worried about falling off. He didn’t look at me but I saw him smiling as they went by.
I stand up just as slowly as I fell down. The large animal has made a path through the forest. I look back in the direction they came from; nothing else is headed my way. I’m very cautious as I step onto the broken tree limbs and crushed plants. I look in the direction of where they went, but I don’t see them. I don’t hear them, either. Grateful for the path that now lies before me, I begin to walk.
***
Grandpa’s car is as big inside as it is outside, and when I start it up it’s so loud I think they may have heard it in the next parish over. I’m so embarrassed to have to drive this, but I slept too long, and now I don’t have any other choice if I want to get to lunch on time. Once I drive out of the carport it sounds a little quieter; I’m grateful for small favors.
Mystic Café is as busy as it was the first day Ellie brought me here. I see her doing a reading at a table. Unsure of what to do, I head for the counter.
“Hello,” the man behind the counter says. I know I met him, he’s Lovie’s son, but I can’t remember his name.
“Oh, hi,” I say.
“Raina, right? You’re Ellie’s cousin.”
Now I feel even worse for not remembering his name. “Yes, I am. I’m meeting her for lunch.”
A customer walks up behind me. I move out of the way so she can place her order. When I move I notice his name tag and I blurt out, “Ben.”
He smiles at me. He reminds me of Uncle Jacob. Not that he looks like my uncle, but the way he acts like he knows something about me and doesn’t want to say.
“Are you ready?” Ellie has walked up behind me.
“Yes. I thought you would be in your reading a little longer.”
“I’m done.”
“It looks busy. Are you sure you’re ok to go to lunch?”
“Sure, I’m sure. Are you ok?”
“Yeah.”
“Let’s go upstairs and
grab Andre and Johnny, they’re going too. You don’t mind, do you?”
“No, I don’t mind.” I do mind, actually. Very much. I wanted to go to lunch with Ellie and have a private conversation about Grandpa.
Ellie heads upstairs and I follow her. We walk through Lovie’s office; she’s not there. When we walk into the antiques shop I see that Lovie is behind the counter, talking to Johnny. I get the idea she’ll be covering the shop while the guys are at lunch.
Andre greets Ellie with a kiss; it makes me feel immediately in the way. He says hi to me.
“Hi, Andre,” I reply.
I walk over to Johnny and Lovie. “Hello,” I say to both of them.
“Hi, Raina,” Johnny says. He’s wearing a black t-shirt that has a print design on the front, but it’s worn and I can’t see what it says. Plus, I don’t want to get caught staring at his chest, so I force myself not to.
“Hello, dear, how are you settling in?” Lovie says with a sweet smile.
“Just fine, thanks,” I say. I get that feeling again that I’m looking at someone who knows more about me than I’d like them to. Maybe it’s just sympathy.
“Ok, well, let’s go get some lunch,” Ellie says.
Johnny walks around the counter. I glance at his blue jeans and down to his Converse shoes, and once again I find myself pulling my eyes away in an effort not to stare.
I smile at Lovie and turn toward the door. Ellie and Andre are already outside; he’s holding the door for me.
“Thank you,” I say.
He gives me a smirk in return.
We ride in Andre’s car, even though it’s only a few blocks away. Ellie reasons that, “It’s too hot to walk, and we’d be gone too long anyway.” That reason is good enough for me.
The guys will sit in the front. Ellie and I get in the back. His car is a two-door, so I climb in from Johnny’s side. I’ve never had a problem with closed spaces before, but it’s a small backseat and I feel trapped back here. I hope we’re there soon.
Fortunately, it only takes a few minutes and we’re outside of a restaurant called The Gumbo Shop. Ellie says, “You’ll love it here.”
I’ll love it anywhere that’s not the backseat of that car.
The restaurant looks really old, just like everything else in the Quarter. I love all the brick, it feels so authentic. We’re seated in the courtyard; the fans keep it cool.
The waiter fills up our water glasses and Andre orders gumbo for the table.
The waiter says, “Very good,” and takes our menus before I’ve had a chance to look at mine.
Andre talks with Ellie about their plans for that night. It doesn’t concern me so I tune it out. I make myself look busy examining the decor.
“It’s nice here, right?” Johnny says.
“Oh, yes, I like it,” I say.
The waiter brings a basket of French bread and the guys dive in. I take a piece; it’s still warm.
“So, are you from New Orleans?” I ask Johnny.
“Yep, born and raised. My parents are from here too.”
“Oh,” I say. It seems like I was going somewhere with that, but now I don’t know what else to say.
He says, “The only time I’ve even left Louisiana is to visit my sister in Biloxi.”
“Oh, you have a sister?”
“Yes, two of them, both older than me. And I have a brother who’s younger.”
“I always wondered what it would be like having brothers and sisters. You’re lucky.”
He tilts his head back and laughs. He has a strong neck and chin. When he looks back at me he’s still laughing. “That’s only funny because I’ve always wished I was an only child.”
“Oh. It’s not that great.”
“But I bet you got more presents at Christmastime.”
“I got a fair amount, yes. But it must have been nice having someone else there to play with all the toys.”
“Um, no. Play with . . . you mean more like fight over. It seemed like none of us were ever happy with anything we got. And then Dad would get all mad about the noise and leave to come down here to Bourbon Street for drinks, and Mom would spend hours in the kitchen cooking dinner and talking to her sisters on the phone. That would pretty much leave us kids to fight about who got the better toys.”
“Well, the way you make it sound, maybe I was better off as an only child!” I laugh.
“Yeah, well, at least y’all got presents,” Andre says.
I stop laughing.
Johnny says, “They were crappy; you didn’t miss anything.”
I wonder if Andre is serious about not getting anything for Christmas. I can’t figure him out. I’m grateful that the moment is interrupted by our food arriving.
I’m not sure what I expected, but it turns out that gumbo is soup. It’s so hot out, I don’t think I would have chosen this, but I’ll make the best of it.
“It’s good, Raina,” Ellie says.
I guess she noticed me looking at it suspiciously.
“What, you don’t like gumbo?” Andre says.
“I’ve never had it before,” I respond.
“Oh, that’s not the kind of fine cuisine they serve in California, huh?”
I ignore him and begin to spoon through my bowl. The gumbo is dark brown. There are chunks of seafood in it that look good.
“Be nice,” Ellie says.
“What? She knows I’m joking,” he says.
No, I don’t. I feel Johnny looking at me, but I don’t look up. I keep stirring my gumbo.
Johnny says, “If it’s too spicy, then you’ll want to have a bite of bread after you take a bite.”
I try it. It is spicy, but I like it. Still, the French bread tastes good afterward.
Johnny asks, “So, Raina, what’s it like here compared to California?”
“Let’s see…I notice that the music is different. And not just the jazz I hear when I come here to the Quarter, but the songs on the radio. What I hear here is stuff I’ve heard before, but in California they were always playing new music.”
“Oh, really?” Ellie says.
“Yeah. And the way people dress is a little different too, it’s more casual here.”
“Huh,” Ellie says.
I look at Johnny, who’s been quiet since he asked me. He’s eating, but he has an ear tilted toward me like he’s listening too. I don’t really know what else to say. I expect that Andre is going to make fun of me at any moment.
“Does everyone surf there?” Johnny asks.
Andre laughs, “Of course not, stupid. You watch too much TV.”
I smile, but I don’t think he’s funny. I say, “No, not everyone. I tried it once, but I was terrible at it. I preferred just to lie on the beach.”
“Oh,” Johnny says. He doesn’t seem embarrassed or mad at Andre, he must be used to it.
“And of course, the way people talk here is very different.”
“Us southern folk just can’t help it,” Johnny says with a wink of his eye.
My cheeks feel hot; I’m blushing.
Once we’re finished eating, the waiter clears our table and offers dessert. Andre says no for all of us.
I’m surprised at how full soup and bread made me feel, so I guess it’s just as well that we skip dessert. I wouldn’t mind having a little more time to talk to Johnny, though. I want to know how he ended up working at an antiques shop, and how he and Andre became friends. And I’m also not in a hurry to climb back in the backseat.
Once back at Mystic Café, Andre and Johnny head back upstairs. Andre and Ellie have a romantic goodbye, while Johnny and I have and awkward goodbye.
Ellie says, “I have a few minutes. Was there something you wanted to talk to me about?”
“Yes,” I say. I almost forgot why I came here.
“Ok, well, come on over to my office.”
I’m wondering where her office is when I realize she meant the table where she gives readings.
I sit down across from her.
I halfway expect her to pull out her cards, but she makes no move for them. I have her undivided attention.
“I got up early this morning, and when I went in the dining room, Grandpa knew who I was.”
“That’s great, Raina. See, I told you he would before long.”
“That’s not all. He showed me his doubloon collection.”
Her expression drops. “Oh.”
“It was really cool, though. He was so excited to show me.”
Her smile has returned, but it’s not as enthusiastic as before. I’m sure she’ll tell me why, but I want to go through what was good about it first. So I continue, “He showed me all of them. They were crammed into two big books. I didn’t even know what a doubloon was, so I really liked it. Plus, it was like going through a family history when he showed me the ones collected by his dad, and then him when he was a kid.”
“Yeah, he used to show me those all the time when I was little.”
“So, what I was wondering was, why do they stop in 1992?”
“That’s when Grandma got sick,” she says. I can see by the way she won’t look me in the eye anymore that she’s uncomfortable talking about that.
Still, I can’t help but ask. “How did she get sick?”
“Um…”
“Did she have cancer or something?”
“Or something…”
“Ok, I get that no one wants to talk about it.” I’m frustrated, but I don’t want to force it out of her. Maybe I’m not ready to know, anyway. I move on to the next question. “Can you at least tell me why you never collected any? I think if I lived here I would have, but I don’t know, maybe it was different for you.”
“It was different for me,” Ellie says. For the first time I’m seeing my cousin not as someone who’s always cheery and positive, but as someone who’s got issues like the rest of us.
“Ok, never mind then.”
“It’s just that, I did collect them for Grandpa.”
I’m surprised to hear her say that. “So, what happened to them?”
“I don’t know. Every year Mom took me and a friend down there; she’d let me bring any friend I wanted. And every year we collected beads and doubloons. I was always so excited to bring the doubloons to Grandpa, because he was always so excited about his collection. It wasn’t until I was about 10 years old that I realized he wasn’t adding them to the book. I asked him what he did with them, and he said he had them somewhere special, but I don’t know where. He never showed me.”
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