Color Blind

by Sobel, Sheila;

I busied myself in the kitchen, happy to have the dog as a diversion. I wouldn’t have to talk to Kate about my evening. At least not yet. I sat beside him while he inhaled his dinner. After he finished, I read his tag. GUMBO was engraved on the little dog bone tag. I ruffled his ears and whispered, “You’re safe now.”

  “The number was no longer in service,” said Kate as she came through the screen door.

  “Can I keep him?” I asked.

  “No! Tomorrow we’ll take him to the address on the tag. Tonight, he sleeps on the porch. Here’s an old blanket for him.”

  “If we can’t find the owner, can we keep him?” I asked again.

  “No, April. We need to find his owner and get the dog back home. And, tomorrow morning, you and I are going to talk about the ground rules for coexisting. I also want a full report on your evening: Miles, police, everything. Let’s call it a night. It’s been an exhausting day for both of us,” said Kate, yawning.

  “You have no idea,” I muttered under my breath.

  Kate locked the screen door and turned off the porch light. We headed to our respective rooms, closing windows along the way, but leaving the ceiling fans on for air.

  Kate was right. I was very, very, very tired. It had been one long emotional roller coaster sort of day. I was totally on overwhelm and the storm wasn’t helping matters. I was thankful to be inside, more than ready to call it a night.

  I kicked off my sandals, pulled my tee shirt over my head, unzipped my skirt and let it fall down around my ankles.

  Lightning flashed, thunder was immediate; the storm was nearly on top of us. The house groaned, the windows rattled against the wind; I knew I wouldn’t sleep. I collected my clothes from the floor, balled them up and readied a pitch towards the chair. A small handmade Voodoo doll tumbled from the skirt pocket, landed at my feet and stared straight up at me. I froze.

  Lightning lit the skies and thunder shook the house once more. If this were some cheesy horror movie, the lights would go out about now. Cue creepy music. A huge crack reverberated when lightning struck a tree in the front yard, severing a limb. The lights blinked out. A scream caught in my throat.

  I dragged the tee shirt back over my head, felt around for my skirt, and bashed my shin on the dresser. The bedroom door creaked open.

  “April, are you all right?” asked Kate. “I brought some candles and a flashlight for you.”

  “I’m fine, just fine.”

  I found the doll with my bare foot and nudged it under the chair. The doll was rough, scratchy against my skin; I shuddered at its touch. I took the candles and flashlight from Kate.

  “Want some company?” asked Kate.

  “No, I’m good.”

  “It’ll pass quickly,” she said.

  “Good to know.”

  “Okay then. Try to get some rest. Good night.”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Never mind.”

  The bedroom door creaked closed.

  “I’ll oil that hinge in the morning,” said Kate from the hallway. The house trembled again. “If you change your mind about company . . .”

  The tiny doll was now an eight-hundred-pound gorilla in my room. How did this stupid doll get into my pocket? Did the woman from the shop put it there? Why would she? What does she want from me? What does this mean? What should I do with it? Leave it under the chair? Put it in the trash? Throw it out the window? Ignore it? Return it to the store tomorrow? Would she accuse me of stealing it? This is every child’s worst nightmare, a monster hiding under the bed. Or in my case, a Voodoo doll under the chair.

  It was my nightmare now.

  Because of the rain, I couldn’t open the window. With no electricity, the ceiling fan didn’t work. The room was suffocating; the burning candles sucked all of the oxygen out of the air. My skin was slick with sweat, my shin throbbed. Random thoughts paced like caged tigers in my head.

  As suddenly as it started, the storm ended. The lights came back on. I snuffed the candles, threw open the window and stuck my head out. I filled my lungs with ion-charged air, replenishing the oxygen in my brain. I welcomed the last raindrops on my face.

  I reached under the chair for the doll. It didn’t look so frightening now. It was nothing more than small bits of fabric sewn together by hand with spooky, sightless button eyes. It was nothing I hadn’t seen in that weird little shop. There were no pins sticking out of it, so that was good. I doubted there was reason for concern. It was the power people gave to the Voodoo dolls that was so frightening. Belief made the power real for them. Rational thought notwithstanding, I zipped the doll into my laptop case and stuck it in the back of the armoire. Now it was tomorrow’s problem.

  I listened to the sounds of the house. All was quiet. Kate must be asleep. I crept downstairs to check on Gumbo. The dog was pacing the sun porch. He looked like he could use a friend. That made two of us.

  I led Gumbo into the kitchen, where I grabbed three of Kate’s homemade cookies and a cold bottle of water. Upstairs, with Gumbo at my feet, I sat in the overstuffed chair and thought about my day. Nothing makes sense anymore. Like Gumbo, I’m totally lost. Tomorrow, he’ll be back with his family. And where will I be? I’ll still be alone. No family except Kate, and clearly she’s not thrilled to have me here. What would Dad say? What am I going to do?

  I climbed into bed and encouraged the dog to join me. Kate would be mad, but I didn’t care. Gumbo was sleeping with me. Even with Gumbo beside me, sleep didn’t come easily. Images of haunted houses, Voodoo dolls, and decaying cemeteries floated along the edges of my consciousness. Finally, just before dawn, sleep arrived. My first twenty-four hours in New Orleans had come to a conclusion at last. God only knew what the next twenty-four hours would bring.

  Chapter Eight

  I opened my eyes to intense sunlight and ungodly heat. The humidity was even worse here than Alabama. Gumbo, lying beside me like a large, furry heating pad, was snoring gently. Oh, man, Kate’s gonna be peeved when this dog comes downstairs with me! The ceiling fan spun indolently, hardly moving the dense air. I sat up and ran my fingers through my damp curls and twisted them into a knot to get them off of my neck. I was hot and sticky, my mood as black as the Voodoo doll hidden in the armoire.

  “Happy” rang out from my cell.

  “What the heck?” I jumped out of bed, searched for my phone. The screen read SUPERHERO.

  “Good mornin’, Miss April! I hope you slept well, what with the storm and all,” Miles said cheerfully.

  “Fine, just fine, no problems at all. Slept like a baby,” I lied. “Nice ringtone, by the way.” I laughed and sat back down on the bed. “Do you call all of your girlfriends so early in the morning?”

  “Naw, just you. Besides, it’s eleven o’clock already. Where I come from, that’s not early, that’s brunch time. Will you join me?”

  “Hmmm. Enticing, but I can’t. We found a dog last night after you left. Kate wants to return him to his owner this morning. Can I buy you that coffee later today?”

  “You most certainly may! Text me when you’re on the way back. I’ll swing by to pick you up.”

  “Deal. Later, Miles.” I heard Kate outside my door.

  “Are you up? I brought you some juice. There’s a bowl of fruit and some yogurt and a muffin waiting for you downstairs whenever you’re ready.”

  I opened the door a crack and took the juice from her.

  “Thanks.”

  Kate sighed. “There’s also some food and fresh water on the porch for Gumbo when you two come down. After you both finish, we’ll take Gumbo home. Unless you have other plans?”

  “Not ’til later. Coffee with Miles.”

  “He seems nice enough. You can tell me how you two met when we’re in the car.”

  I didn’t answer.

  “Take your time, I’m in no real hurry this morning,” said Kate as she turned to go. “Oh, and by the way, if that dog slept on the bed last night, put the sheets in the washer before you c
ome down.”

  I closed the door, sat down and looked at Gumbo. He had soulful brown eyes and a happy tail, which thumped enthusiastically against the pillows. I didn’t want to give him up. We were bonded now. I could tell. Gumbo jumped down and circled. He needed to go out. I finished the juice, zipped into yesterday’s skirt and took him out to the front yard to pee. Stripping the bed would have to wait.

  While Gumbo took care of business, I thought about the talk Kate wanted to have. Since I’ve never been big on sharing and didn’t plan to start now, bonding with Kate wasn’t high on my list of things to do. I needed a plan. I certainly wasn’t going to tell her anything about the cemetery or the Voodoo stuff. I’d give Kate the abbreviated version of last evening while we searched for Gumbo’s house. After the dog was returned to his family, I’d go have coffee with Miles and Kate would go to work. After that, I could go back to the Voodoo shop to return the doll. I’d finally be rid of it. Good plan. Simple enough.

  I led Gumbo around to the back porch, where his breakfast was waiting. Inside, the kitchen was empty. Once again, the table was beautifully set. The food was tasty, the coffee was welcome. Kate sure knew how to treat her guests, both canine and human. While I cleared the table, Kate came into the kitchen carrying a slender brown leather belt, her handbag over her shoulder, keys in hand.

  “I thought we could use this belt as a leash to get Gumbo into the car,” said Kate. “What do you think?”

  “It’s a good color for him, it matches his eyes.”

  Kate rolled her emerald green eyes. “Ready to go?”

  “I’d like to take a quick shower. Ten minutes?”

  Kate eyed yesterday’s clothes and said, “Take fifteen.”

  I slapped on a big smile. “Thanks for breakfast, Kate! Great muffin! You made it?” I asked, putting the last dish in the dishwasher.

  “I did. Cinnamon apple with a caramel pecan crunch topping. It’s a new recipe. You were my guinea pig this morning.”

  “Impressive,” I said, now with an even bigger smile. “Just in case you changed your mind, I’ll ask you again. May I please keep him?”

  “No! Aside from the fact that he belongs to someone who is probably missing him, I don’t want the responsibility that comes with owning an animal. It doesn’t work for me.” Kate continued, “And speaking of responsibility, let’s get something straight. I’m your guardian now. No more stunts like last night. Going forward, your phone is to be on at all times. I need to know where you’re going. I need to know who you’re going with. I need to know what you’re up to. This is non-negotiable. Go get ready.”

  My smile and I left the kitchen.

  Thirty minutes later, I stepped out of the shower and tried to dry off. It was impossible. I felt like I needed another shower already. I dusted all of my nooks and crannies with the lavender-scented body powder that Kate left in the bathroom. It helped considerably. I braided my hair, slipped into loose clothing and sandals, and went downstairs to get Gumbo.

  A few minutes later we were on our way. Kate had the top down on the Mini so I could take in the sights as we drove. The Royal Street antique stores and galleries were open for business. The sidewalks were crowded with multiple walking tours and the restaurants were busy with an early lunch crowd. The street hummed with activity. I didn’t see a single building without people, plants, or wrought iron.

  We came upon a cathedral and were stopped by a film crew angling for the perfect shot. I watched an actress dressed in a pastel hooped skirt and matching bonnet cross the church yard to reach a gray-uniformed Confederate soldier. They hugged, they kissed, she cried, he comforted. I heard someone call out “Cut!” and a young man wearing a headset directed us to move on. We inched our way through film trucks, tourists, and mule-drawn carriages until we were, officially, on our way. The car picked up speed, the breeze catching Gumbo’s ears like sails in the wind. He seemed happy to be with us, which made me sad. It wouldn’t be long before he was gone.

  “Tell me about last night,” said Kate.

  “Not much to tell. I took your advice. I slept after you left. When I woke up, I was hot and hungry. I wanted to get out of the house, get some air, explore my new neighborhood, so I took a walk. I had dinner. I went on a tour of the city. A spur of the moment thing, you know? I assumed you’d think it was a good way for me to see New Orleans, get to know my way around. I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

  “You should have waited for me to show you around, to help you get acclimated. And, you don’t ever need to go out to eat. There’s always fresh food in the house.”

  “I didn’t see any reason to wait for you. Can I finish now?”

  “Go ahead.”

  “Miles drove the tour van and was our guide. When the tour was over, he asked to walk me home. I didn’t think it was a good idea since I’d just met him. Good thinking, right? Anyway, the tour began and ended near the police station. After the tour, Miles took me inside to meet his dad. They both walked me home so I’d get back safely. That’s it.”

  Kate stared out the windshield. She offered no comment.

  I crossed my arms, sank deeper into the car seat. “I didn’t do anything wrong.”

  Kate sighed. “Probably not. We’ll cover ground rules for you later. I still need to figure out exactly what the ground rules are. Having a teenager in the house is uncharted territory for me.”

  I offered no comment, just stared out my window at the passing scenery. As the three of us cruised out of the city under a spectacularly blue sky, I caught myself relaxing for the first time in days.

  Kate said, “The address on Gumbo’s tag is located somewhere in the Ninth Ward. That’s where the levees broke, remember? No, you probably don’t, you’d have been too young. It’s not so much a bad neighborhood, but a sad neighborhood. So many years since Hurricane Katrina and it’s still not back to normal.”

  We passed astonishing road signs, Gun-Free Neighborhood, Drug-Free Neighborhood. We had definitely entered a different part of the city, one not frequented by tourists. People on their porches fanned away the heat, the insects, and the afternoon. The residents stared with curiosity as the cherry-red car with two white women and a dog rolled slowly through their bleak streets. They were suspicious of strangers, probably with good reason, although we hardly looked threatening. We made our way past empty, weed-covered concrete foundations and roadways that led to nowhere. Dangerously unstable, abandoned homes stood as monuments to societal failure on so many levels.

  “What does ‘2DB’ mean?” I asked, as we drove by a barely standing house, with boarded-up windows, its front wall spray-painted with some sort of code.

  “Two dead bodies,” Kate replied quietly. “Homes were marked by search and rescue teams for collection of those who perished or needed to be rescued.” Kate slowed the car and pointed. “See the four sections?”

  I nodded.

  “Each quadrant indicates something different, like which battalion was here, or how many people were inside, if they were alive or dead, or if they couldn’t get in at all. See, over there? NE means No Entry.”

  There was no appropriate response for what I had just learned. I had never seen such abject poverty before. It was soul-crushing. I needed to get out of here. I looked for street numbers in earnest, trying to find Gumbo’s home.

  Once we turned the next corner, Gumbo began to squirm and whimper. We drew close to a yard where a tall, skinny African-American girl, somewhere north of thirteen years old, played alone. Gumbo began to bark, pulling at his makeshift leash. When Kate pulled to the curb, Gumbo launched himself over the side of the car, then knocked the girl down and greeted her with dog-slobber kisses. The girl squealed with laughter.

  “Mama! Mama! Gumbo’s back!”

  I got out of the car. The girl stood up, brushed herself off, ran towards me and gave me the best hug ever. Gumbo jumped and barked, excited to be home.

  “Angel! Honey, let go of that girl before you squeeze the life outta her!” An attract
ive, thirty-something, mocha-colored woman came down the steps, wiped her hands on her apron and approached the Mini. “Thank you for bringin’ our Gumbo home. He’s been missing about a week now, ever since he jumped out the truck when we were in the Quarter. Angel’s been sorely upset.” Gumbo glued himself to Angel, happy to be back with his human.

  “Please, y’all come in for some sweet tea and cookies. They’re fresh from the oven. We’d like to thank you proper,” said the woman. “Angel, go fix up some tea, put some cookies on a plate for our guests. Napkins, too.”

  “That’s not necessary, we’re just happy it all worked out. We have to get back. Let’s go, April,” said Kate, motioning for me to come back to the car.

  I watched Angel playing with Gumbo and felt really guilty for wanting to keep her dog. I threw a defiant look at Kate, turned back around and called to Angel, “I’ll help you.”

  Chapter Nine

  Kate got out of the car, pushed the damp hair from her face, and said, “It is mighty warm out here today. Tea would be nice.”

  “I’m Simone,” said Angel’s mother, extending a rough, never manicured hand. “You’ve a pretty daughter there.”

  “Thank you,” said Kate, slightly uncomfortable. “She’s April, I’m Kate.”

  “Let’s all get to the shade,” said Simone, following me up the uneven walkway.

  The railing wobbled as I climbed the warped porch stairs. I almost lost my balance. Their home was beyond run-down, but the porch was tidy and looked scrubbed. Cushions on the weathered wicker chairs were worn, but clean; the potted plants flourished. Fresh laundry dried on a line in the side yard under the unrelenting afternoon sun, near a well-tended vegetable garden. Clearly they cared for their home, but didn’t have the money for maintenance.

  Angel held the ragged screen door open for Gumbo and me. Gumbo raced ahead, his nails clicking on the old wooden floorboards as he ran into the kitchen. The hallway was a personal gallery filled with dozens of old family photos. It was fascinating, a family history in black-and-white. It was like I had stepped into a time warp. There was no computer in sight. There was no hi-def TV. There was nothing that spoke of the twenty-first century.