Color Blind

by Sobel, Sheila;

  After breakfast, I refilled my juice glass, chopped up some lettuce, and took breakfast out to BG for probably the last time. I released her from the tether, gave her an ear snuggle and watched as she ate the tender greens. I told her not to worry. It wouldn’t be much longer before she was spending her days with new friends, free to roam in open spaces. She wouldn’t be alone much longer.

  When the doorbell sounded, I hooked up BG and went inside. I pulled back the curtain by the door and saw that a delivery man had loaded two large black trunks onto the porch. My belongings had arrived. I opened the door, signed for the delivery, and said he could leave the trunks where they were, I would take care of them. Since I was alone, I didn’t want to let a stranger into the house—Stranger! Danger! like Detective Baptiste had warned. I went back inside and removed the small rug from the powder room. I slid the first trunk onto it and dragged it across the threshold. I got the second trunk into the house and returned the rug to the powder room. Maybe later, with Kate’s help, we could get the trunks upstairs without first unloading everything downstairs.

  As I turned to go back to the courtyard, the doorbell sounded again. I pulled the curtain aside. This time it was a FedEx guy with an envelope. I stepped out onto the porch, signed for the letter, went back inside, and locked the front door. The FedEx, sent by Sam, was addressed to me. Outside in the courtyard I sat down and began to read. The documents included a cover letter from Sam, a copy of my father’s will, and an envelope addressed to me in my father’s handwriting.

  Oh boy. This is going to be hard.

  I inhaled deeply and began to read Sam’s letter. My father’s estate was settled. Sam outlined the details in a clear, concise manner. I would have expected nothing less.

  I was Dad’s sole beneficiary. My father’s worldly possessions were stored, along with our furniture, in a facility in Alabama, except for the few personal items that Sam had packed into the trunk for me. He thought I might like to have them right away. He was right about that.

  I continued reading. I was astonished to learn that I was the sole beneficiary of a life insurance policy that I never knew existed. The proceeds would be administered for me by Sam, as executor of the estate. I was to receive $1,000 per month over the next forty months beginning immediately, until I reached the age of twenty-one. The first $1,000 had already been deposited into my bank account. The balance of the insurance proceeds, in the amount of $160,000, had been set aside for higher education. If for any reason I did not use the $160,000 for college, those funds would not be made available to me until my twenty-fifth birthday. As Dad’s will directed, Sam had sold my father’s car and would use the money to pay tuition for my last year of high school if necessary. If I attended a public school and tuition was a non-issue, I could use the money to buy a car for myself upon graduation.

  Overwhelmed, I began to cry; I sat sobbing in the courtyard for quite some time. When the doorbell rang again, I wiped my face with the hem of my shirt, gathered up all of the papers, and ran inside. Once more, I pulled the curtain aside. Lo and behold, there was yet another delivery person on the porch. A woman this time, holding a small box. I answered the door, signed for the package, and sat down in one of the rocking chairs.

  My new phone had arrived. I wasn’t in any hurry to activate it, because nobody was going to call me anyway. All I wanted to do was sit here for a while and think about my future. Back and forth, back and forth. Totally drained from this morning’s emotional roller coaster, the rocking soothed me; I soon drifted off.

  Somewhere up the street a car backfired and I awoke with a start. I checked my watch and panicked. My job interview was in thirty-five minutes. I snatched up the box with the phone, took the stairs two at a time and speed-showered. I pulled back my hair, bound it with a clip, found the makeup I’d purchased the day before, and went about the business of hiding the nearly healed scratches on my face. I threw on a long-sleeved white shirt, plain black trousers, and black sandals, added a pair of simple gold hoop earrings, and finished off with a little bit of pink lip gloss. I grabbed my purse, locked the front door, and flew down the porch stairs, happy the interview was only a few short blocks away.

  I fast-walked up Royal Street, then had to slow my pace a bit so I wouldn’t be all sweaty and overheated when I arrived at Café Beignet. I felt a pang when I passed in front of the police station. I thought about the night I met Miles and the conversation we had, when he joked that he hoped I was worth all the bother. Because I hadn’t heard from him since my swamp incident, I assumed I wasn’t.

  The truth hurt.

  I pushed the dark, brooding thoughts out of my head, pulled out a smile from somewhere deep within, entered the café and looked for Josie, the manager. Right away I recognized the infectious laughter from our initial phone call, but Josie would have been hard to miss. She was wearing a brightly colored oversized Hawaiian shirt with huge hibiscus flowers blooming across her substantial chest. There was a real hibiscus flower holding back the hair above her left ear, and on each wrist she wore numerous gold bangle bracelets, which jingled with every laugh. She looked like a lady that dotted the ‘i’ in Josie with a little flower. I liked her immediately.

  Josie came around to the front of the counter, reached out her hand, and said, “Hi, I’m Josie. You must be April.”

  “How did you know?”

  “Your outfit, it’s very interview-ish. You look quite professional, entrepreneurial, as well as gorgeous, and you’re five minutes early. I like you already! Let’s sit, you can tell me all about yourself. Can I get you a café au lait before we start?”

  “Maybe after. Thank you for asking. I would like some water, though.”

  “Polite, too, I like that in an employee,” said Josie, handing me a frosty glass of water.

  Josie sat. We visited, laughed, and got to know each other over the next hour. I’d never been on a job interview before, but Josie made it easy. I was comfortable with her; I felt as if I were speaking with a kindred spirit.

  In one quick move, Josie rose from her chair, squeezed my shoulder and said, “Let me get that café au lait for you now, sugar.”

  The interview was over. I didn’t get the job! The opportunity had slipped away and I didn’t understand why. I failed miserably. Now what am I going to do? I need to start the job hunt all over again to satisfy Kate’s conditions for my continued presence in her home. And I won’t get to see Miles. I wanted to cry, but didn’t. It had already been a teary kind of day.

  Josie returned to the table with two coffees and a plate of freshly made beignets. She sat back down.

  “Let’s celebrate!”

  “Celebrate what?”

  “Why, honey, your new job, of course. When can you start? Monday morning okay with you?”

  “I’m hired? Really? Wow! Thank you!” I raised my coffee cup in a toast to Josie, took a bite of beignet and unleashed the power of powdered sugar.

  “You might want to re-think wearing black to work, hon,” laughed Josie.

  I finished my food, stood, stacked the dishes, cleared the table, and carried everything into the kitchen. Before leaving the kitchen, I washed my hands at the employee sink and wiped the powdered sugar from my trousers with a damp paper towel.

  I reached out my hand to Josie and said, “I want to thank you for your time today and for giving me this opportunity. You won’t regret it.”

  “Of that, I have no doubt. I’ll see you here on Monday at ten A.M. We’ll work out the rest of your schedule later.”

  “Yes, ma’am! I’ll be here bright and early,” I said, throwing her a little salute.

  Turning to leave, I collided with Detective Baptiste.

  “What’s your hurry, little lady?” he asked.

  “Um . . . hi . . . uh, hello . . . Detective Baptiste.”

  “You two know each other?” asked Josie.

  “We’re old friends. We just haven’t seen each other for a while. Right, April?” he answered.

 
; “That’s right. Old friends,” I croaked, surprised I could get the words out of my desert-dry mouth.

  “The usual?” asked Josie.

  “Yep, the usual. I’ll just sit here and catch up with Miss April while I wait,” he said, pulling a chair away from the table for me.

  Speechless, I sat.

  “How are you, April? How’s Kate?”

  “I’m better. She’s better. I mean, we’re doing better. Together.”

  Detective Baptiste listened quietly, patiently.

  I rambled on, “We’re working on our, uh, hmmm . . . issues, I guess you could call it.”

  “Glad to hear it. I was concerned.” Detective Baptiste leaned closer to me and lowered his voice. “You seem to be a pretty good kid, April, but you’re a little feisty and maybe a tad too reckless. I would hate to see you get hurt.”

  I looked down at the table, embarrassed, “Thank you for your concern, for everything. You were a big help to me . . . to us. I know Kate really appreciated—I mean appreciates—you. She likes you a lot . . . a whole lot . . . she says you’re a good man and a kind person.”

  “You mean she didn’t say anything about my ruggedly handsome face, exquisite manners, or musical talent?” he laughed. I laughed, too; it felt good, natural. It was a relief.

  Josie brought his “usual” to the table and asked, “So Frank, what do you think of my new hire?”

  “With her charm, she’ll fit right in here. Most likely, she’ll increase your business, too. Especially the male NOPD rookie business.”

  “Mighty fine,” she said, dancing her way back to the counter to help the new customers, “mighty fine . . .”

  “Um, Detective Baptiste . . . how’s Miles?”

  He smiled at me and nodded towards the door. “Why don’t you ask him yourself?”

  Chapter Thirty-Eight

  There, leaning against the door frame, bathed in the golden late-afternoon sun, was Miles. With his tanned, muscular arms folded across his six-pack abs, he looked better than ever. He also looked like a panther assessing its prey. My heart skipped a beat; I couldn’t breathe or think clearly.

  Detective Baptiste stood. “It was nice seeing you again, April. I’m happy to hear that you’re doing so well.” He leaned down, gave me a little peck on the cheek and whispered, “Don’t be afraid, he won’t bite.”

  “Son.”

  “Dad.”

  Miles strode over to the table; he took me by the arm and led me towards the exit.

  “Let’s take a walk.”

  I glanced back at Josie and waved goodbye.

  She winked, gave me two thumbs up and mouthed, “You go, girl!”

  Miles waited until we were well out of sight of the café and the police station, before turning me towards him and gently backing me up against a brick wall. I wasn’t afraid, but I didn’t know what to expect.

  It certainly wasn’t what happened next.

  Miles cupped my chin and planted a long, hard kiss on my lips.

  “Why haven’t you returned my texts or voicemails ? I’ve been worried sick. Are you angry with me, April?”

  Breathless, I was grateful the wall was holding me up. I enjoyed his closeness, his warmth, the lingering taste of his kiss still fresh on my mouth.

  “What? What are you talking about? Angry with you? Are you kidding me? I thought you were mad at me for all the trouble I caused. I thought I’d never see you again!”

  Miles peered down at the sidewalk. “Well, yeah, I was angry with you. To be honest, I never wanted to see you again. After Dad talked to me about what you said in your statement, I felt bad. I felt bad for you. And for me. I was awfully hurt because you wouldn’t talk to me about yourself. I thought we were friends. What I really couldn’t understand was why you didn’t answer any of my texts. I must’ve sent a gazillion of them before I took the hint.”

  “The hint? There was no hint! My phone is deep in the swamp; it’s probably gator food by now. I just got my replacement phone this morning. I haven’t even had time to activate it.”

  “Really?”

  “Really!”

  “So, we’re good?”

  “We’re more than good.” I turned my face upwards and puckered my lips, ready for another kiss.

  The kiss didn’t come. Instead Miles joked, “I don’t suppose you’d like to join me tonight for a cemetery tour and a visit to the Voodoo shop?”

  At first I was taken aback. Then I laughed. I laughed long and hard.

  “Been there, done that.”

  “May I walk you home?”

  “I’d like that very much.”

  Miles hooked his arm in mine and turned me towards home.

  Home. I guess it is my home now, isn’t it?

  Arriving at the front gate, Miles offered to help me with the phone. I declined his offer and let him know I wanted to handle it myself, that I’d call or text later.

  I needed some alone time. This day had been so much more than I could have imagined when I went to bed last night. My life was happening at warp speed and I was having difficulty keeping up.

  I sat in the rocker and watched Miles walk away from the gate. He really was quite a remarkable person, just like his dad. They were both good, kind men. Never in a million years would I have believed we would be friends again. I thought about what Miles said to me earlier about our friendship. If he hadn’t been so discouraging about Voodoo in the beginning, I might have opened myself up to him, but then again, maybe not. At the time, I really wasn’t in a frame of mind to open up to anyone. I hoped I could do better going forward.

  I rocked awhile longer, trying to decide when I would open my father’s letter. I wanted to read it, but not yet. I was still aching from his death, his permanent absence. I knew the contents would make me cry. In my heart, I knew he was going to tell me to let him go. I wasn’t ready to hear it. I’d seen it too many times in the movies: “If you’re reading this, I must be dead . . .” It had to be one of those letters.

  His letter could wait. I rocked some more and thought about Kate, Simone, Angel. I thought about high school and college and money and volunteering and my new job. By the time I finished, my head was spinning. I needed food. Since I hadn’t eaten anything except a muffin and a beignet, I was once again on sugar overload. I got up, unlocked the front door, and saw the trunks that had been delivered earlier in the day. The trunks could wait.

  Leaving my keys and handbag on the hall table, I moved past the trunks and into the kitchen to fix myself something to eat. Kate’s note from the morning was still hanging on the fridge. Oh my God! I was supposed to call her after my interview! I picked up the receiver and dialed, hung up when I heard the front door open. Kate was home.

  She entered the kitchen and slipped her carry-all over the back of a chair, then kicked off her shoes, sat down at the kitchen table, and began to rub her ankles.

  “Tough day?”

  “Not really. My feet are a bit sore, that’s all. How was your day? How did your interview go? By the way, you look really nice. Very professional.”

  “I apologize for not calling you, I got sort of distracted. My day was good, the interview went really well. I got the job! I start Monday.”

  “That’s great news! Congratulations! We should celebrate. We could go anywhere, do anything you like. Would you be interested in a jazz dinner cruise on the Mississippi? The buffet isn’t five-star, but the food is good and there’s plenty of it. It’s touristy, but interesting and fun. We wouldn’t need to be there until close to seven P.M., so you have time to decide. I saw your trunks in the hall. Would you like help getting them upstairs?”

  “Thanks, I could use your help. And a river cruise sounds like fun. We haven’t had much of that lately. Actually, we haven’t had any fun since I arrived in New Orleans which, I know, is totally my fault . . . Let’s do it!”

  Kate eyed the FedEx on the kitchen table, “What’s that?”

  “It’s from Sam. Dad’s estate is settled. Sam s
ent me the details. We can talk about it over dinner.”

  Kate stood. “Let’s get those trunks upstairs.”

  It was a struggle, but we got them into the hallway outside my room. I could unpack from there and store the trunks in the attic afterwards. Unpacking could wait.

  I was ready to go out and have some fun.

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  The pier was packed with people ready to experience the local color of Louisiana. Nothing says vacation in New Orleans like a steam-powered riverboat ride on the Mississippi, with an endless buffet of Creole delicacies, oversized alcoholic beverages, and an overlay of jazz in the background. The energy was contagious. I was as excited as the tourists.

  The evening air was cooler by the river. It was a welcome relief, and it got even cooler once the trip was under way. We worked our way through the crowd to the front of the boat to get the best view. When we found a comfortable space at the railing, we relaxed and enjoyed the scenery. We passed factories, antebellum homes, an old fort, and a plantation. Our fellow passengers were loud, but in a background, white-noise way.

  After twenty minutes of cruising down the muddy Mississippi, I told Kate about my day. I started with the morning deliveries, worked my way up to the afternoon interview, my chance meeting with Detective Baptiste, the walk with Miles. I left out his kiss, which was way too private. I ended with the details of the estate settlement and the as-yet unopened letter from my dad.

  Kate was a good listener. Not once did she interrupt.