The Juju Girl

by Nikki Marsh

  "Math is my best subject!" I lied again, but I figured Maman had time to help me with my addition and subtraction up to 21 since she didn't have to do any chores in the mansion.

  Instead of looking for Maman, as I should have done, I explored the house, starting with the room across from the small parlor. They called it the drawing room. When I opened the heavy paneled dark door, the sickening smell of too many flowers overwhelmed me. I didn't let that deter me.

  Like the door, wood panels covered the walls and, what I assumed were family portraits, decorated them. A large fireplace with a mirror draped in black occupied one wall. A luxurious red sofa tempted me to flop down, but it wasn't the sort of sofa for flopping. The furniture sat on a large carpet decorated with flowers, birds, and animals. Dark fringed drapes covered tall windows. As I moved in for closer inspection, I spotted a flickering light in the mirror and discovered the source of the flowery smell. A coffin rested on a pedestal, surrounded by more flowers than I could count.

  Granpopá!

  My heart throbbed in my ears. I felt hot. I struggled to breathe. I turned to run, but my curiosity about a grandfather who never wanted to meet me stopped me. I stifled my fear, closed my eyes, took a deep breath and crept closer.

  I don't know what I expected but not this pasty old man who looked like a stuffed pig with a mustache. I didn't feel the least bit afraid or sad looking at this stranger. I only had questions. Did he ever love Maman? Why didn't he try to know me? What was wrong with me? What was wrong with him?

  As these questions swirled in my head, the door opened and closed. Afraid of getting caught somewhere I shouldn't have been, I slipped behind the nearest drapery and pulled it back far enough to see, but not be seen.

  Maman stood over the coffin holding a letter and cried. I never saw her cry before. Now, she cried twice in one day. I wanted to run to her, but her tears scared me, and I would probably get in trouble for being here. Between her sobs, she whispered something in Creole, but I couldn't make it out.

  After a few minutes of mumbling, she dropped the paper and pulled out a pair of small scissors from her skirt pocket. Reaching into the coffin, she snipped a piece of Granpopá's white hair and put it in her pocket. She dug into her other pocket and produced a gold chain with a small stone that looked like a marble hanging from it. She suspended it over Granpopá, and it swirled around in circles, slowly at first, then speeding up. Maman spoke louder now, repeating Ban mwen yon siy - Give me a sign. Give me a sign.

  Maman was scaring me. Why was she speaking in Creole to a dead man? Why was she asking for a sign? How could a dead man give her a sign? What kind of sign could he give? As I mulled over these questions, Maman stopped speaking. When she did, my vision blurred, and I rubbed my eyes. As the fog cleared from my eyes, the flowers on the carpet started to bloom. The birds flew to the coffin and circled around it. I closed my eyes hoping it was my imagination, but when I opened them, not only were the flowers still in bloom, the grotesque creatures lodged in the ceiling corners had joined in, making creepy sounds. I tried to scream, but no sound came out. I pinched myself to make sure I wasn't dreaming. How could this be? Things that did not live before now lived. I wondered if things that lived before were now dead. What power made this happen? Did it come from Maman or Granpopá?

  Maman dropped the marble pendulum and began turning in circles until she worked herself into a frenzy and fell to the floor. I worried she might be dead. I wanted to come from behind the drapery to check on her and take my punishment, but I stayed behind the drapes until the birds and flowers retreated into the carpet, and the little creatures were silent. I took a deep breath and crept out, my fear growing stronger with each step. I knelt beside Maman to see if she was still breathing. She was. Now, I needed to make sure Granpopá was still dead.

  The change in his appearance startled me. He no longer resembled that stuffed pig, but an old man sleeping with a smile on his face where none had been before. I didn't understand what I saw, but it scared me. Maman scared me. Granpopá scared me. I knelt next to Maman and shook her until she opened her eyes.

  "How long have you been here, Gabrielle?" She sat up and wiped away her tears.

  I had to lie.

  "I looked all over for you, Maman. When I checked this room, I found you on the floor. What happened? I thought you were dead."

  I had two good reasons for lying. First, I shouldn't have been snooping around. But, more importantly, Maman had a secret. One she didn't want me to know. One I didn't want to know.

  "I'm sorry I scared you, sweetheart. I'm overwhelmed with grief and regrets, and I haven't eaten all day. I must have fainted." She took a deep breath, and I helped her up.

  Maman lied to me for the first time in my life, but I was so scared, I didn't want to know why.

  "Let's get something to eat before we go to bed." She took my hand and led me to the kitchen.

  The next morning, the sound of rain beating hard against the window in the room I shared with Maman awakened me. I laid there with the covers pulled over my head not wanting to get up, or go to the funeral, or go to the City of the Dead. I wanted to go home to Buras as quickly as possible. I laid there thinking about what I witnessed the day before and wondering about Maman's secrets. I wondered if Popá and I were some of her regrets.

  Maman got up earlier. When she returned to our bedroom, she never looked more beautiful. At home, we didn't have any fancy clothes, only church clothes and the clothes we wore every day. But now, Maman wore a beautiful, black silky dress with small embroidered pink flowers. She even put a little rouge on her cheeks and lips, and she pulled her hair back in a bun but placed silver combs on each side. On this day when I expected her to look so sad, she looked happy.

  "What a pretty dress, Maman," I blurted out before I even said Good Morning.

  "Good morning to you, Gabriele. It's a little too big. I've lost weight since I last wore it, but I had this dress before I married Popá. It's one of my mourning dresses I wore when someone died. When I moved to Buras with Popá, I left my fancy clothes behind. I left my whole fancy life behind for a happier one." When she said this, I realized Popá and I couldn't be her regrets.

  Popá met Maman when he had come to New Orleans for Uncle Phonse and Auntie's wedding. They fell in love at first sight, but unlike Uncle, he didn't want to live in New Orleans, or work at the family market, or become a part of New Orleans society. He dreamed of becoming a landowner somewhere near Buras. Maman admired his independence. Within a few months, they married and moved to Buras, igniting the flames of Granpopá's ire. He banished them from the family and gambled that cutting Maman off from the family would force her to come to her senses and return home with or without Popá. He lost that bet.

  "Is that dress for me?" I pointed to a dress on her arm. "Is it a dress you had when you were a girl?"

  Maman smiled. "No, Sweetheart. This is one of Brigitte's dresses she's outgrown. It's beautiful, isn't it? I think it will fit you."

  Maman put the dress over a chair in the corner of the roo, then kissed me on my forehead. As if this day wasn't bad enough, I had to endure it in a hand-me-down dress of Brigitte's.

  The family held a private service in the drawing room before leaving for a Requiem Mass. People spoke about how generous, kind, and loved Granpopá was. I wanted to shout out, "This man never loved me or showed my family any kindness at all." I didn't understand why Maman would even want to come to his funeral. I couldn't imagine Popá ever treating me like that, no matter what I had done.

  The church overflowed with mourners paying their respect. When the rain let up, the funeral procession of horse-driven carriages began its way to the City of the Dead, a fortress of brick walls and iron rails designed to keep the dead in. We made our way through the winding paths to the family crypt, an elaborate stone mausoleum with a statue of an angel on top and the name Martial etched on it.

  As I listened to the final prayers, the rain picked up again, and a shadowy figure ne
ar the entrance to the crypt emerged. I blinked and rubbed my eyes. I couldn't make it out, and the more I focused on it, the more it faded. In the background, low murmurings of eerie voices, alarmed me. But, when I scanned the mourners, no one spoke.

  I turned around to see if someone else was being buried nearby. No one was. After a few minutes, the voices quieted, but the shadowy figure remained. I grabbed Maman's hand. As I did, a deep voice called me, "Gabrielle, Gabrielle. My little Gabbie." The voices of the living heaping prayers and praises upon this man faded. There was only one voice, his voice. "Gabbie, I love you so much. Please forgive me."

  Gabbie. That was the first time anyone called me that. I liked it. When his voice faded, and the shadow disappeared, I tugged on Maman's hand insistently and whispered, "Granpopá just told me he loves me."

  I expected her not to believe me, to tell me it was my imagination, and I was right. How could I hear the voice of a dead man? She squeezed my hand until it hurt and told me not to let my imagination run wild. Her worried expression contradicted her words, and that far-away look in her eyes gave way to fear. She warned me not to tell anyone about what I imagined. She said it would be too upsetting.

  Now, all these memories raced through my mind as I remembered the horror of my first visit to New Orleans five years ago.

  The Great Storm of 1893 destroyed homes, took hundreds of lives, and ended my life as I had known it. I had to start my life again, without my father and possibly without my mother, in a strange city, in a strange house, with some very strange people.

  Chapter Three

  My New Life Begins

  A new face greeted us upon our arrival at Auntie Lucinda's. Felicie, Neni's daughter, had replaced her mother as the housekeeper. Neni had devoted herself to the Martial family for many years. After she could no longer carry the full workload, her daughter took her place.

  "You poor souls. Y'all come on in and let's get you settled. Come on, come on," she said, gesturing us in.

  Uncle Phonse supported Maman who was still hurting from her wounds, as she walked in. But her physical injuries wounded her far less than her profound sadness over the loss of Popá. A vacant stare occupied her eyes. She had barely spoken a word on the boat ride from Buras, and she hadn't eaten for several days. Losing Popá devastated me, too, but I didn't cry in front of Maman, not that she would have noticed. My fear of living in this house competed with my sorrow over Popá. Being back in New Orleans frightened me, but I found the silver lining in it. It meant I spent less time grieving for Popá, if only for a while.

  "I'll take Miss Aimee now," Felicie said as she pried Maman from Uncle Phonse's arms.

  "I fixed up your old room upstairs specially for you, Miss Aimee. Miss Lucinda even had another bed brought into Miss Brigitte's room for Miss Gabrielle." It sounded odd for a grown woman to call me Miss, but it gave me something to think about.

  I didn’t want to stay with Brigitte in her room. I had to let Felicie know. I considered telling a little lie until I realized I actually had a good reason.

  "Uncle Phonse, can't I stay with Maman? She needs me now," I pleaded. Staying with Maman meant I could help her and could avoid Brigitte as much as possible.

  "I understand, precious, but your Maman needs as much rest as she can get right now. Your Auntie has gone to a lot of trouble to set you up in Brigitte's room, and Brigitte is looking forward to getting re-acquainted. Anyway, you'll be right down the hall, and you can check on your Maman as much as you like. Now, why don't you help Felicie get your Maman settled in bed. I will look for your Auntie Lucinda."

  Uncle Phonse tried to make the best of a bad situation. He suffered, too. I doubted Brigitte looked forward to sharing her room with me, but I didn't want to argue with him. It wouldn't have done much good.

  Auntie and Maman hadn't reconciled after Granpopá died, so I wasn’t surprised that she didn’t greet us on our arrival. That she wasn't there for Uncle Phonse did surprise me, but Felicie explained her absence.

  "Mr. Phonse, don't you bother to look for Miss Lucinda. Missy Brigitte been feelin' poorly. They both gone to see Popá Jean."

  The expression on Uncle Phonse's face gave away his low opinion of this man.

  I helped Felicie put Maman to bed, and after she fell asleep, Felicie showed me to Brigitte's room. Five years had passed since our first meeting. Secretly, I wanted her to like me more. I wanted to dislike her less.

  "Go on in and get settled," Felicie ordered. "I laid out some of Miss Brigitte's clothes she don't wear no more on your bed. You pick out the ones you like that fit you best. Miss Brigitte will be back soon," she said, revealing a kind smile. She assumed I would be happy to see Brigitte.

  "You hungry? I fixed a mess of gumbo."

  I couldn't think about food, given everything I had to worry about.

  "I'm not hungry, thank you. I ate not too long ago."

  A harmless lie. I hadn't eaten much over the past few days. I had no appetite. Why didn't I tell her that? Was it because Felicie struck me as one of those people who would insist I eat, anyway?

  "All right. Get settled in and come on down for your supper later. I'll bring some broth up for your Maman in a little while. Made it special for her and put some Comfrey root in it, too."

  "Comfrey root? What's that?"

  "A conjure herb."

  She realized I didn’t understand what she was talking about.

  "You know. For healing?" She looked at me incredulously.

  "No, I don't."

  "What? Ain't your Maman ever told you nothin’ 'bout conjure and such? From what my Maman tells me, Miss Aimee knows all 'bout conjure and a lot more stuff, too."

  "She hasn't told me anything about it," I assured her.

  I began to think there was a lot I didn't understand about Maman. What did she know about conjure? Why did Felicie say she knew a lot about it? Why would Maman keep it a secret from me? I intended to get the answers when Maman got better.

  As soon as Felicie left, I surveyed the clothes spread out on the bed. I liked most of them. They weren't little girl clothes. They suited me now because my childhood had ended that night in the warehouse. That's when I understood I must be the one to protect Maman. I had to stop being a child, thinking like a child. I had to learn to depend on myself. That's what Popáwould want.

  I should have felt safer, but sitting there all alone, I didn't. How could I ever feel safe again without Popá? Would we ever return to Buras? What would we do to survive? My thoughts opened a floodgate of tears, and sorrow drowned my heart. I collapsed onto the bed and cried myself to sleep.

  I don't know how long I slept, but when I awoke, a candle flickered from a table in the corner of the room. Brigitte sat in a chair next to it staring at me. This time, I decided I wouldn't be the one to break the ice. I wouldn't be the one to say something stupid. I wouldn't be the one who gets laughed at. I stared back at her. After a few minutes, she walked over to the bed, moved some clothes on it, and sat down beside me.

  "You've changed a lot, young lady. That little girl I met five years ago has vanished." She accompanied this with a slight laugh.

  "Here it comes," I thought and braced myself for the worst.

  I hadn't given much thought to how much I might have changed, just how much she might have. Her simple blue dress had no ruffles and frills like before. I surmised she was old enough now to pick out her own clothes. She had grown a lot taller and skinnier, but her colorless skin and tired eyes hinted that she wasn't well. This Popá Jean, the mention of whose name upset Uncle so much, might have been a doctor.

  "I'm so sorry about your Popá, Gabrielle. I can only imagine how sad you and Auntie Aimee must be. I don't know what I would do if my Popá had died in that storm."

  Her kindness surprised me. Perhaps she wouldn't be as mean to me as before. Maybe she wouldn't make me feel stupid. I stuck my neck out a little and hoped she wouldn't cut it off. I told her everything Uncle Phonse had done to help us, even burying Popá in h
is family’s graveyard.

  "I'm so glad my Popá did that. He never talks about his life in Buras. I didn't even know there is a family graveyard. He came to New Orleans for temporary work when there was none in Buras. He started as a worker at one of the family markets. Granpopá noticed how hard he worked and took him under his wings. Sometimes, he even brought him home for dinner," Brigitte said proudly.

  "Stefan doesn't remember his life in Buras. He was so young when his parents died of smallpox, and Suzanne and Popá took him in. They planned to raise him like a son."

  "What I remember about Stefan is how nice he treated me the first time I came here." As soon as the words escaped my mouth, I regretted it. It sounded like a criticism of her, but that's not what I meant. She understood and let me continue.

  "He must be a lot different now.”

  "He's a young man now and away at military school. He'll soon be home for the Sweetheart Ball."

  She explained this was the biggest social event of the year, for sweethearts and those looking for sweethearts. She and Stefan looked forward to going.

  "Are you going with Stefan?"

  "Lord, no. He's like my brother! I'm going with Julian. You'll meet him soon."

  "Who is Stefan taking?"

  "Emilie Duvalier. She considers him her sweetheart, but I'm not sure he does."

  I wanted to know more.

  "What is she like?"

  "I don't know Emilie that well, but she is beautiful. I've heard she's a little spoiled and vain... like I used to be!"

  I laughed. I didn't know what to say. Should I agree? For a second, I considered lying and telling her she was never like that. Before I could, she resumed the conversation.

  "We will take very good care of you and Auntie Aimee now. Maybe we can be a real family if our mothers can get over whatever caused the rift."

  "I think they can now."

  I lied again. Whatever caused the break between them still smoldered in Maman's heart, and probably in Auntie's too. I thought it best to keep my opinion to myself.