Napoleon's Gift

by Alie Infante

  She handed me a glass of sherry, but I refused shaking my head. When she tried to kiss me, I drew back, then frowned.

  “What? Qu’at-il fait pour vous?” What has he done to you? She shouted, and I sighed placing my head in my hands.

  “Rien cher.” Nothing darling, I replied softly, but she threw the sherry glass into the fireplace.

  “Menteur!” Liar, she shouted, and I was surprised at her fierceness.

  “I do not!” I countered, and she placed her hands on her hips to glare at me.

  “Vous êtes en amour avec lui!” You are in love with him? She accused yelling, and I frowned looking up at her.

  “Non!” No! I shouted back, and she came to me.

  The kiss she gave me ordinarily would have been felt in my toes, but I felt much of nothing now. There was no reaction in my senses, and I was quite confused as to why.

  “Il est comme je l’ai dit, même mes baisers ne rien faire pour vous maintenant!” It is as I have said; even my kisses do nothing for you now.

  “Claudette…”

  “Non…laissez-moi!” No…leave me! She shouted and I went to her.

  She wrestled herself away from me, then ran up the stairs sobbing.

  I sighed; blinking back the tears, as I quietly left the house.

  What else in my life could go this terrible wrong?

  Granny was departed, Claudette decline to converse with me, and I was in love with a man I knew I could never be with.

  As I walked through the tall oaks, my mind went to a summer day many years ago.

  I was thirteen, he was sixteen.

  “Ye shall be my wife someday.” He declared puffing out his chest, his blue eyes sparkling, and I laughed.

  “How do you even discern that I care for you?” I countered, then turned my head as if I had just smelled something sour.

  “Because ye kissed me.” He grinned, and I frowned.

  “Oh that...it meant nothing to me. You are daft, if you think it did.” I said, he frowned, then snatched me to him and kissed me this time. It was a kiss; unlike I have ever received since in my life, except from him. Truly, I could directly testify it was at that very instant I fell in love with him.

  When he drew back, my eyes widened.

  “Tell me now; ye have no sentiment for me.” He whispered grinning, and we both laughed.

  I saw something ahead of me that brought me back to my reality.

  It moved between the trees, I gasped and hurried around the back end of the house, as I saw the sun was setting.

  When I reached the veranda, he was sitting on the swing, glass and cigarillo in hand.

  “At long last, she returns.” He stated stamping out the cigarillo, and I could deduce he was already well into his cups.

  “Go home Benny, you are quite intoxicated.” I snapped as I walked up the stairs, but he surged to his feet and blocked the doorway.

  “No, not until ye convey the truth.”

  “And what certainty is that?” I asked frowning up at him.

  “That ye love me, and continuously have damn it.”

  “I ceased loving you the day you permitted Maribel and her cousin to do what they did.”

  “How can ye fault me for that? I stood for ye, I even informed her and the world over that I loved ye?” He cried, and I was taken back as I looked up at him.

  I had no notions he had done that, however, it did not matter now.

  My mind went back to that day, almost fourteen years ago.

  I was not a slave, and had never been regarded as such on this plantation. I had no notions that the world was as corrupt as it was, because glimpsing in reverse now, I could distinguish that both my father and grandmother made certain I did not. When I first met Benjamin, I was quite taken with him. He spoke French, as well as four other languages. That first summer, I was 11, and followed him about as if I were a vagrant dog. He seemed so sophisticated to me, and very striking as well.

  We became immediate friends, because he said he could not fathom how one man thought it was his entitlement to possess another. He made me laugh, but had a very studious and solemn characteristic to him as well.

  He taught me Thoreau, and I taught him to dance.

  He taught me Descartes and Kant, and I taught him to swim.

  Granny said it was as if we were fixed firmly at the hips. If ever his father were searching for him, Granny would point towards the pond, and say my name. I liked Mr. Waverly Senior as well. He was a jovial sort of man, and made it his place to continually make those in the vicinity of him laugh.

  Granny loved Benjamin as well, and each year, I felt the friendship growing, shifting to something else.

  When he was fifteen, he declared his love for me, but I laughed and told him he was just addled. He later went to town with Mr. Waverly Senior, and brought back a ring; two hands joined in a pledge of love, slipped it on my finger, then vowed that he would love me for all eternity.

  I was touched, as he sealed his pledge with a kiss. When he traveled back to England, I refused to tell anyone why I was so melancholy, except, I somehow knew my Granny knew exactly what was amiss with me.

  The year he turned sixteen, his father conveyed him again for the summer, and I was astounded at how masculine he had become. He was several inches taller, and had filled out in a manly physique. The first thing he did was to wrench me off, and declare his love for me again, with several kisses to demonstrate it.

  We were inseparable, until the night of the Dubios’ ball. Since I was not the normal colored, this was New Orleans, and because the entire town knew whom my father truly was, when the Dubios’ sent the invitation to the ball, naturally, my father would allow Granny and myself to attend.

  I was having an impressive time of it, dancing, drinking my fair share of wine, when he pulled me outside to the veranda, to steal a kiss. It was at that point, Maribel and her malicious cousin Theia from Mississippi invaded our small sanctum.

  Theia laughed, pointing, and we broke apart.

  “Surely, you cannot be smitten with a nigger?” Theia cried, and I noticed Benjamin’s face turned crimson.

  “Guard yer mouth.” He spat, and she laughed even more.

  “Father says that they are no better than the cows in the barn. I daresay how can you truly love something so dumb. But then I presume, it would be the same affection, one might have for their favorite pet.” Theia stated laughing, and I felt as if all life drained from me, when I saw the look in Benjamin’s eyes.

  “I daresay Ginny isn’t like them. Why her very own father is Mr. Jones, how can you say such things Theia?” Maribel cried looking at me, and I could see her face was just as crimson.

  “Just because one ruts with animals, does not mean they have to be indulged as human. She is an artifact of an abomination, not even worthy of your compassion! Filthy coloreds integrating with whites, why it is disgusting to boot! How you could even surmise that she is anything like us, is quite unfathomable Mari, just look at her! Moreover, you Benjamin, believing that she is anything but, is quite preposterous. Not to mention, what the devil is wrong with the Dubios inviting a slave in the first place. Lands sake, you Nworlens folk are just plumb addled.” Theia cried, and I bit my lip to keep it from trembling.

  I looked to Benjamin for some semblance of acknowledgement that what was happening was wrong, but the look he gave me was one of embarrassment, and shame.

  I dropped the wine glass, then ran from the veranda, towards home.

  “Ginny!” He yelled, but I kept running, the tears clouding my vision. “Ye are an evil wench Theia, and a heartless childish bitch to boot! Albeit, she may be half-colored, but in appearance and heart, she will permanently surpass ye!” Benjamin retorted with such contempt, that both girls took a step back, as he brushed past them to go into the ballroom.

  I looked up at him now, and the feelings from that night rushed up from somewhere deep inside, as I reached for the door.

  “No, ye will not saunter away fr
om me again Geneviève! I was sixteen years old then, ye cannot possibly deem me accountable for what transpired involving children.”

  “Yes I can, I loved you! More than anything in this world, and you cleaved my heart from my chest then trampled it!” I screamed up at him as the tears came, and he snatched me to him, kissing me to the point that a heat surged throughout my entire body.

  “And ye love me yet at present, confess it. I cannot eat, reason directly or purpose without ye on my mind. What I experienced as a lad has been augmented to the position of not being able to behave properly when I am not with ye.” He whispered harshly, as he picked me up, and we slammed into the closed door.

  “You injured me.” I cried, as his lips traveled the length of my throat, then back to my lips.

  “And I am attempting to mend that, if ye would merely permit me. I was a boy, who discerned nothing truly of love, desire or affection then. I need ye, because I do now.” He swore, his hand gripped me tighter, holding me against the door, as his other hand came up to caress my face.

  “And what transpires subsequently Benny?” I moaned as his head dropped, he drew the skin in the very hollow of my throat into his mouth, and it sent a sensation so strong through my body, my other regions tightened.

  “There will be no subsequently Ginnybean, if ye’d have only delayed, ye’d have seen how it genuinely finished.” He cried, as he drew his lips to mine, and kissed me deeply.

  Someone cleared his or her throat, he put me down releasing me, and I could feel my face turn scarlet, as Isaiah stood there with a slight grin on his face.

  “Sir, Abel has need of you; Mr. Charles is in the parlor with the constable.” Isaiah said, he nodded, then looked at me.

  “Ginny…”

  “No.” I rebuffed, went through the door, then closed it behind me.

  Benjamin frowned at the door, then at Isaiah.

  “Bloody rotten timing Isaiah, please remember that.” He hissed at Isaiah, he nodded swallowing hard, then followed Benjamin to the big house.

  Big

  House…

  When Benjamin reached the house, he frowned as he came into the parlor, and they both stood.

  The constable was holding a contract, and Mr. Charles gave him a sinister smile.

  “I hold in my hand, a contract for one Geneviève Marié Basile. The monies due to Madame Soleil have been remunerated by Mr. Jean Morrow, so she is now indebted to him.” The constable smiled, Benjamin frowned, then walked to the desk at the far right end corner of the room. He retrieved the paper, then smiled as he held it up to the constable.

  “I am at a loss as to how that can be, when I have compensated Madame nearly three days ago for the entire tally. Mmm Basile, has no balance with Madame, because it has already been paid in full. I am also not quite sure what the meaning of this is.” The constable looked up from the bill shocked, then frowned as he saw the fury replace the smile on Mr. Charles face.

  “Let me see!” Mr. Charles hissed, then snatched the bill from Jefferies.

  As he went over it, his entire body began to tremble with rage. He looked at Benjamin, tore up the proof of payment, then tossed it to the floor. Benjamin laughed, then took a seat as Abel handed him a glass of wine.

  “That is neither here nor there. I have witnesses, that Madame has procured her payment in full.” Benjamin stated looking at the constable, and he nodded frowning.

  Mr. Charles shoved Jefferies out his way, then stormed from the parlor.

  “Good evening.” The constable said tipping his hat, as he hurried after Mr. Charles.

  “That will not end well.” Bartholomew stated, and Benjamin nodded.

  “That it shall not.”

  “And have ye made any headway with Geneviève?” Bartholomew asked him grinning, and Benjamin’s frown deepened, as he shook his head.

  “No, and I am afraid I made a complete arse of myself several nights ago, so she is still insisting on this separation.” He wailed as he got up, then drained his wine glass.

  “Now I understand the lack of commitment with Madison.” Bartholomew said, and Benjamin turned to look at him, giving him a slight smile as he plopped into the armchair.

  “Yes, I have been haplessly in love with Ginny since I was a lad.” He returned, and Bartholomew smiled, then frowned.

  “And how does she feel for ye?” Bartholomew questioned, and Benjamin sighed.

  “She loves me as well; however, she is reluctant to say it. We have a speckled past, one that I am the cause of.”

  “How so?” Bartholomew asked, Benjamin sighed, then commenced to explain why.

  “My word, and yet she still loves ye?” Bartholomew inquired frowning when Benjamin was done.

  “I was just a lad Bart, I rectified the situation, only she’d run off already. I endeavored for three days to get her to take note of my side of it, but she would not, then Tobias sent her off with Adèle, for weeks, and by the time she was due back, father had already booked passage.”

  “And ye never returned after that?” Bartholomew solicited frowning now as well, and Benjamin shook his head.

  “No, I supposed I had done enough injury to her, and she would be improved without me. However, I have never been able to cease to love her, for more than a moment.” Benjamin muttered as he looked away from Bartholomew.

  “Then ye need to make amends mate.” Bartholomew cried, and Benjamin gave him a look.

  “What the bloody hell do ye imagine I’ve been trying to do since I realized it was her Bart? I knew there was something familiar about her from the moment I laid eyes on her. As fanciful as it may ring out, I knew she was the one I would adore eternally, when I was sixteen, and I told her I loved her. Had it not been for Maribel and her bloody cousin, she would have been mine.” Benjamin wailed as he got up from the chair and went to the bar.

  Bartholomew took the decanter from him frowning.

  “This isn’t making the situation any better! I have never seen ye like this, but ye must take hold of yerself!”

  “And how shall I do that, since ye seem to discern so much Bart? Do ye not think I have attempted just that since arriving? Do ye somehow think that I am carved from stone?” Benjamin cried, snatched the decanter back, then poured himself a full glass of whiskey.

  “I daresay that isn’t going to assist any old chum.” Bartholomew muttered, Benjamin sighed, then went to the settee and sat down placing his head in his hands.

  “Ye act as if ye have no notions of wooing a woman.” Bartholomew commented, and Benjamin looked up at him frowning.

  “Are ye daft? Of course I do, however, she is dissimilar to any other woman I have distinguished. I recognized that from the initial time she kissed me when I was fourteen years old. Ye tell me how to resolve this given that ye have such an immeasurable acquaintance with women.” Benjamin cried, and Bartholomew grinned.

  “Finally, we shall dawn on a grand scale.” Bartholomew grinned, and Benjamin rolled his eyes.

  ***

  When I woke the next morning, I was taken aback the day was so glorious, especially after having been overcast the day before. It was almost as if the day, sensed that I was in a finer mood, because as I stretched, then yawned, I could see the sun in all its glory.

  It looked to be a fine day.

  I washed, dressed, then went into the kitchen to make myself something for the morning meal. I sighed, heart heavy blinking back the tears, because I did not hear my Granny welcoming me into her already hot kitchen.

  As I stirred about the kitchen crossing towards the back windows, something coppery caught my eye. I opened the back door, then gasped as I saw the mounds of cooper irises, in several baskets, a note atop each basket addressed to me. I picked up the first one, then tried to frown, but my facial feature would not obey my command.

  “Love is composed of a single soul inhabiting two bodies. Ours…” It said, signed B. The next one read; the hunger for love is much more difficult to eradicate than the hunger for bread. Ther
e were four more baskets, and I could not seem to stop myself from smiling as I read them. “Love is of all passions the most resilient, for it has assaulted concurrently, my head, my heart, and my senses.” I placed my hand on my chest, because I felt as if my heart would rupture as I picked up the final card. “What is love? In arithmetic, it is an equation, in history it is a war, in alchemy it is a reaction, in art it is a heart, in spite of this, in me, it is YOU.

  As exquisite as his expressions were, my heart even now could not rely on any of this. I gathered the notes, then walked back into the house.

  ***

  “God Blind me, it did not succeed.” Benjamin hissed as he and Bartholomew removed themselves from the shrubbery.

  Bartholomew frowned.

  “Then we shall have to keep endeavoring. I daresay that was a smile on her face, and a look of wonderment as she drew closer to the veranda. We must carry on chap. Did ye imagine this would not be drudgery? Ye have disfigured her heart, and that my dear chum necessitates groveling, limericks, verses and sonnets. If ye have ascertained naught else from Byron, Keats or Shelley, it should be this.” Bartholomew encouraged as he cuffed Benjamin on the back, then led him off.

  * **

  I sighed as I gazed at the basket of flowers hours later.

  Should I absolve him?

  Was my heart even capable of pardoning him?

  My mind went to that night, and feelings of despair, shame, and broken love rushed onward, virtually choking my breath off. If ever I had loved anyone in my life besides my Granny, it had been Benjamin.

  Yet, should not I be over the throb of it by now?

  I was thirteen years old; surly my heart had recovered since then?

  Nonetheless, I had never loved anyone as such but Benjamin.

  After the Dubios’ ball, I never saw him again, and now here he was almost fourteen years later.

  What was I to feel?

  Where was I to place that love I had given so profoundly, so unreservedly, so unquestioning?