Billy laughed. “They’re going to enter the wheelbarrow race.”
The wheelbarrow race was everybody’s favorite. You needed two people to enter. One pushed the wheelbarrow, the other rode as the passenger, and the passenger had to be sixteen or older. Sure enough, as we watched, Ms. Thibodeaux climbed right into that wheelbarrow.
“Hey, Evie!” Billy hollered.
We all waved at her big, showing our support.
Before we knew it, Dewey showed up right beside her, pushing his dad.
We made our way toward the finish line to cheer them on.
Even Miss Balfa and Ms. Pitre had entered, Miss Balfa riding the bow.
As I was standing with Billy and Mary Jordan, waiting for the race to begin, I felt something nudge the back of my knees, sending my feet out from under me and landing my derriere in Tante Pearl’s yellow wheelbarrow that had definitely seen its better days.
“Come on, honey!” Tante Pearl hollered from behind me as she pushed that wheelbarrow and ran for the starting line.
Mary Jordan and Billy hooted and whistled.
“Get ready to eat wind!” Miss Balfa hollered at Tante Pearl.
“In your dreams!” Tante Pearl hollered back.
Everybody around me was laughing, and the race hadn’t even begun.
Father Ivan stood about fifty feet in front of us with an arm extended in the air. “Contestants get ready,” he yelled. “On your mark, get set, GO!”
His arm dropped down, and he ran out of our way. Every part of me bobbed up and down while Tante Pearl puffed and grunted behind me.
Miss Balfa and I were neck and neck. Actually, Miss Balfa’s neck may have been a little out in front of mine. She was holding on to the sides of her wheelbarrow and leaning her body forward, as if she thought it would get her there faster.
“Go! Go! Go!” Miss Balfa called out.
“I’m going!” Ms. Pitre yelled back.
Tante Pearl and I began to inch our way out in front of them.
“Oh no you don’t!” I heard Dewey’s voice call out from behind me.
Sure enough, he and his dad were coming up on our left.
Tante Pearl pushed that much harder.
No sooner did they start to pass us than their wheelbarrow took an extra bump and Mr. Savoi toppled out its side, stirring up the crowd’s laughter even more.
Billy was whistling his head off. Mary Jordan was hollering, “Go, Lucy!” Then I saw Mama off to the right of the finish line, jumping up and down with her arms waving in the air.
“Out of my way!” Tante Pearl yelled as we crossed the finish line with a whole hoopla of cheers. Gussie Guthrie and Bessie Faye came in behind us for second. Evie and her mom were racing neck and neck with Miss Balfa and Ms. Pitre for third.
“Go, Evie!” I hollered.
I could tell Evie was using every bit of her strength. Ms. Pitre was using every bit of her strength, too.
Just as all four of them were nearing the finish line, Ms. Pitre tripped, and in rolled Zina Thibodeaux with Evie whooping it up behind her.
Miss Balfa was yelling at Ms. Pitre. Ms. Pitre was yelling at Miss Balfa. Tante Pearl was laughing her head off at both of them.
That’s when it happened. Tante Pearl was holding on to her sides she was laughing so hard, when Mr. La Roche walked up to her from behind and grabbed one of her hands. He pulled her toward him, and right there in broad daylight, smothered her mouth with a kiss.
“Why, I’ll be,” Miss Balfa said.
“Who would’ve thought?” Evie said to me.
I watched my Tante Pearl walk off with Mr. La Roche, the two of them holding hands, and I felt myself smile. “Who would’ve thought?” I said.
We didn’t stay around for the gunnysack race. Billy and Mary Jordan and Evie and Dewey and I made our way to the booths and bought ourselves a funnel cake and a six-pack of Mountain Dew.
We sat underneath the Tallow tree on the courthouse lawn. The races would go on for a couple more hours. Then the street dancing would begin. The Hoolie Brothers were setting up stage a little ways from us. Billy used to play ball with the youngest Hoolie brother, so he got up and went over to be social. The rest of us ate handfuls of funnel cake and drank Mountain Dew.
“I’ve never seen anything like this,” Dewey said.
“Anything like what?” I said.
“Like this. Everybody having a good time.”
“Didn’t you have a good time in Michigan?” Evie asked.
“Not like this,” Dewey said. “I don’t even know when Detroit was founded. And here all of you are, almost two hundred years later, celebrating the lives of your ancestors.”
“I guess I never really thought about it before,” Evie said.
“Me, either,” I said.
“What did your ancestors do?” Dewey asked.
“Whatever they wanted,” Evie said.
Dewey said, “I’m serious.”
Evie said, “I am, too. Mama’s great-great-grandmother grew cotton. She had an uncle somewhere down the line who raised sheep. Somebody off in my dad’s family made boats. Daddy learned to fish.”
“Sissy’s grandmother built fiddles,” I said. “Mama says that’s where all her musical talent comes from.”
“So you don’t think we’re so backwoods after all,” Evie said.
Dewy laughed. “I wouldn’t go that far.”
Evie kicked Dewey in the arm, making him spill his Mountain Dew.
A little later, Billy joined us with a couple of his leftover buddies from high school. They tried to get Billy to go off with them.
“I’ll pass,” Billy said. He sat down next to Evie just as proud as could be.
At that moment, I realized love wasn’t just one breath. Billy had all the respect in the world for Evie. And I knew she had all the respect in the world for him, too.
Dewey took my hand and lay back in the grass. I lay back beside him. The Hoolie Brothers started to warm up with “Bozo Two-Step.” Already people were gathering in the streets for the dance, and once the dancing started, it would go on until evening. It didn’t matter that it was over ninety-four degrees outside, or that the humidity was just as high as the day’s Fahrenheit.
The play was supposed to start at seven. Mr. La Roche had invited the cast, and anyone else who wanted to come, to a crab boil afterward at the beach. As I lay in the grass next to Dewey, I realized I wasn’t nervous anymore about performing. I was still angry whenever I had to be onstage with Doug, but that was a different emotion entirely.
We continued to lie beneath the Tallow tree as the music kicked up around us. Then Billy jumped to his feet and pulled Evie with him. “Let’s dance,” he said. With his other hand, he reached for Mary Jordan and pulled her up, too.
Dewey and I followed them out to the street, where half the community was already gathered and chanky-chank stepping to “Hot Chili Mama!” You don’t have to have a partner to fais-dodo in the streets of Louisiana. You don’t even have to be from Louisiana to fais-dodo, as Dewey soon found out. You just need an independent spirit and a lot of rhythm in your soul. And on that particular Founders’ Day as I danced in the street with all my friends, I realized we had all the right ingredients.
A Midsummer Madness
Miss Balfa and the St. Marc’s Altar Guild hadn’t been able to find a dress long enough to fit me, so they’d just cut off the bottom half of one dress and sewed it to the hem of another. The top half of the dress was celery green. The bottom half looked like a huge tuft of pink cotton candy. All in all, Miss Balfa and the Guild did a fine job with the costumes. Ethel Lee arrived at the play early and made up everybody’s faces. She wove baby’s breath in my hair. Despite the strange colors and the proportions of my dress, all my friends said I made a pretty Hermia.
Evie was definitely the beautiful one that night. She looked like an angel. Mrs. Jacques had made her dress out of a sheer curtain, telling Evie to be sure she wore a white leotard and tights underneath.
Miss Balfa had made Evie’s crown out of clover blossoms. The way Billy kept looking at her, I knew he thought she was a sight for sore eyes.
The 4-H had created two stage sets. One was made to look like an Athenian palace, which the group had constructed out of corrugated cardboard and plywood. The second stage set was the forest that included ten trees made out of chicken wire and papier-mâché.
After Ethel Lee had finished fixing my hair, I poked my head out from the side of the curtain to see how many people had shown up. The auditorium was already full, and the play wasn’t even supposed to start for another twenty minutes. I thought I’d made myself inconspicuous, but that theory was completely shot when I saw Mama in the third row smiling at me and waving big. I didn’t wave back. I didn’t poke my head out from the side of the curtain anymore, either.
By the time the play started, people were seated on the floor in the aisles and in front of the stage, as well. Mr. La Roche was afraid the fire marshal would say something, but he didn’t.
Seeing all those people made my breath shorten itself a good couple of yards, but as soon as Mr. La Roche, playing Theseus, Duke of Athens, spoke the opening lines, my body began to relax. Tante Pearl was sitting in the front row and must have flashed her camera half a dozen times.
After I declared my desire to become a nun if I could not be with Lysander, my scene with Dewey began. Talking with him onstage felt just as natural as could be. All I had to do was look into those blue eyes of his. I didn’t have to pretend I loved Lysander. I didn’t have to feign my affection. I could have kissed him right there on the stage if Tante Pearl hadn’t been sitting with her camera on the front row.
It was during Act II, where Mary Jordan as Helena was supposed to follow Demetrius into the woods, that the play began to take on grand proportions. Although Mary Jordan and Doug had been just fine at rehearsals, outside of rehearsals she was as cool as a freezer whenever his name even arose, so Evie and I had no earthly idea what she was up to. As soon as Doug finished his line, “‘You do impeach your modesty too much, to leave the city and commit yourself into the hands of one that loves you not,’” Mary Jordan was supposed to leave the stage. She didn’t. Instead, she grabbed Doug by the arm, took two giant steps forward so that their bodies blocked the curtain from being drawn. She then thrust her free arm out to the side.
“What is she doing?” Dewey whispered in my ear as we waited offstage.
“I have no idea.”
“Oh Demetrius, my love. Who are you to talk about modesty when you have none?” Mary Jordan cried out, her grasp still tight around Doug’s arm.
“And is it not so that I have betrayed myself in casting my affections upon thee? Respect, you have not shown me any, to use the word ‘love’ as if it were a piece of gold to buy my favors. I am no whore, Demetrius, I will have thee know. And so upon thee do I cast a curse that no woman shall henceforth fawn upon you. You abuse her heart. You strike her with ridicule. A woman’s affection, you shall have none, oh my Demetrius, thou hideous one.”
And with that, Mary Jordan took a bow. Then, still holding on to Doug’s arm, she stepped backward. Evie and I didn’t miss a cue. Both of us pulled the rope, closing the curtains. By then, the entire cast had gathered around us to see what had prompted the change in the scene.
Doug flung his arm free of Mary Jordan and stormed off the stage, failing eye contact with every living soul.
Mary Jordan turned to face us, looking a little sheepish at first.
Evie started clapping, holding her hands high in the air. I joined in. Billy whistled. With all our ruckus backstage, I guess the entire audience thought they were supposed to be making a ruckus, too, so they did, clapping and whistling and calling for more.
Dewey just shook his head. I knew he didn’t have a clue as to what was going on.
“I think we lost Demetrius,” he finally said.
“I think you’re right,” I said.
Mr. La Roche was starting to stress.
I had an idea. “I’ll be right back.”
There was a side door off the stage that led into the auditorium. As I opened the door, I spotted Daddy in the third row, sitting next to Mama. I crouched in the aisle and motioned him toward me. He gave Mama his video camera and followed me through the door to the room off the side of the stage.
“What is it?” he asked.
“We need a new Demetrius,” I told him. “Doug quit.”
“I don’t know the lines,” Daddy said.
“We’ll give you a script to read.”
Daddy laughed. “Why not?”
Miss Balfa found a very tight shirt for Daddy to squeeze into, and tied a gold scarf around his head. He looked more like a rock star than a young nobleman.
And so the show went on. With a little prompting from Mr. La Roche and the rest of the cast, Daddy read his part just fine. I was proud. And the audience loved every minute of it, chuckling each time he finished a line. Of course, our audience was in a particularly good mood; nothing like performing for a group that’s already consumed half the county’s fermented beverages. Someone could have sneezed and they would have thought it was the funniest thing in the whole world.
I guess you could say that’s what happened when Ms. Pitre threw up. She didn’t have a big part. Fact was, she only had one line, and that one line only had four words: “‘Over here, over dale.’” It was the first scene of Act IV, when Titania, played by Evie, appeared with her fairy attendants. “‘Over here, over,’” were the only words that came out of Ms. Pitre’s mouth before she hurled.
Nothing makes me more woozy than the smell of someone’s stomach contents. Her physical state didn’t seem to bother the audience one bit. They laughed their heads off. Mary Jordan and Daddy and Dewey and I were supposed to be the four lovers asleep. I decided I’d sleep with my scarf over my nose.
It was Evie who came to the rescue. “Oh my, my lovely attendants. Someone has become sick. It must be Puck’s potion. Quick, my lady servant. Fetch us some rags and some Mr. Clean.”
And so Bessie Faye, being the only other attendant, headed off the stage for the janitor’s closet.
“Shall I assist?” Noel inquired of the fairy queen.
“If you be so brave, my king,” Evie said. And so Noel took leave as well.
Of course, with Evie’s and Noel’s ad-libbing, the audience was laughing so hard, they might as well have rolled themselves onto the floor.
Even Mary Jordan and I couldn’t help but snicker. Daddy told us to “shh,” which only got us to laughing more.
When Bessie Faye and Noel returned to the stage, they’d solicited the help of another fairy attendant, Miss Balfa. All Miss Balfa had to do was show her face, and the audience was ripping their sides. I’d never heard such a ruckus. Of course she didn’t just show her face. After she’d walked onto the stage in her rolled-up army pants and white air-conditioned sneakers, she flashed all those people the coyest smile I ever did see, fanning their flames even more. I know I was supposed to be asleep, but with all the commotion, I couldn’t help myself.
Once order was re-established, Billy blew a horn from the side of the stage to awaken the four lovers. We jumped to our feet. Daddy held his arm around Mary Jordan. Dewey placed his arm around me. Mr. La Roche appeared, ready to be wed with Hyppolyta, played by Linda Hazelbaker, who worked at the bank. The fairy king and queen had amended their quarrels and were happy again. Tante Pearl started flashing her camera once more.
Billy then leaped onto the stage, casting his arms out toward the audience. “‘If we shadows have offended think but this and all is mended: that you have but slumbered here while these visions did appear. And this weak and idle theme, no more yielding but a dream, gentles, do not reprehend. If you pardon, we will mend. So, goodnight unto you all. Give me your hands, if we be friends, and Robin shall restore amends.’”
At that point, we all took our bows. The audience hooted and hollered and gave us a standing ovation. Mary Jordan and
I pushed Mr. La Roche forward for his bow. The audience cheered even louder. Mr. La Roche held out his arm to the rest of us. Tante Pearl’s camera must have flashed a million times. I thought I would cry at the sheer joy of it all. I took Mary Jordan’s hand. She reached her other hand back for Evie’s. I couldn’t have loved her or Evie or anyone else on that stage any more than I did at that particular moment. I know I cried then.
What a Wonderful World
Mary Jordan, Evie, Dewey, and I all rode with Billy out to the beach, the windows of his Bronco down, the wind blowing our hair. Green Day was playing over the radio. Our heads were up, our chins out. We were happy. By the time we got there, the parking area was full and cars were lined up alongside the sand-packed road. Somebody was playing the guitar, somebody else the harmonica.
Billy carried a blanket around his neck. He and Evie each held flashlights, lighting our path over the levee. Stars were scattered across the sky, as if God had held silver glitter in the palm of his hand and blown it before us, just for our pleasure. The breeze was sweet and salty, a mixture of honeysuckle and the sea. The tide churned and furled and unfurled and swished itself into a long sigh on the beach. All around us voices rose and waned and broke into laughter as the instruments continued their harmony of folk melodies.
We made our way to the fire, encircled by bodies, some standing, some sitting, others lying on blankets. In the center of the fire was an enormous pot, boiling with crabs. Everywhere there were coolers and beer and the sweet smell of soft drinks. Billy spread the blanket out. All five of us crowded on it together.
Dewey would be leaving for Montreal the next day. I couldn’t believe he would be gone the rest of the summer. I couldn’t believe he would be as far away as Canada. The farthest north I’d been was Memphis, Tennessee, and that was when I was three years old. I knew I would miss him. Fact was I’d started missing him as soon as he’d told me he was leaving.
Love, Cajun Style Page 20