SWINGING ON A STAR
Katie gave a thumbs-up to the band and stepped down from the stage. She’d been blinded by stage lights during Eileen’s entrance, but she’d know that teenage frame anywhere. She grabbed on to her friend as if Eileen had been lost at sea. “How did you get here? You got your classes covered?”
“Not without some moaning, but I managed. My mom said Pokey’s getting fluids this morning, and they have houseguests. So I’m staying at your place until tomorrow.” Eileen led her around the velvet curtain and outside into the scalding sunlight. “You sounded great in there.”
Katie blinked rapidly and her eyes watered as they tried to adjust. The air loomed stiflingly hot, as if the entire city was situated inside a giant sauna bath. “Thanks.”
“Olivia thought so too.” Eileen stood back so that the two women could see each other.
“You’re the bride!” Katie said.
“You’re the singer! Let me hug you. You haven’t been gone that long, to forget that we hug down here.”
The blonde had a strong grip, and Katie felt a bit crushed. “You two have met?”
Eileen placed a foot on the wall of the building and stretched her hamstring. She bounced against the building, then switched feet. “Sure. Olivia was worried I might be an extra guest crashing her wedding. I assured her I wouldn’t be there. If I want to hear you sing, I can just wait for your shower, right?”
Olivia looked mortified. “I didn’t mean—”
Eileen waved her hand dismissively. “No harm done. I’m not really the cotillion type anyway, am I, Katie?”
“She doesn’t even wear dresses,” Katie said.
“I was telling Olivia,” Eileen continued, “I came out early to beat Dex.”
“Beat Dex where?” Katie asked.
“Actually, in the shins, but what I mean is he’s flying here to New Orleans after work tonight.”
Katie shook her head. “Dexter wouldn’t do that. He hates surprises.”
“Remember when he said that he’d meet your mother before the engagement? You know he’s a very literal person, right?” Eileen stared at Olivia. “Dex is the one you have to worry about crashing your wedding. No offense, but I couldn’t care less. I just had this sixth sense you’d need me to warn you.”
Katie thought about the ramifications of Dex’s coming to her home, how she hadn’t prepared him for her mother’s blunt ways and how he wasn’t schooled in the fine art of subtle conversation with Southern women. Her nervousness about her singing dissipated amidst the reality that Dexter Hastings and Irene McKenna would be in the same proximity without a thorough briefing on one another. Mam spoke Southern Subtext and Dexter, Silicon Valley Literal. It would take a Geneva Convention for these two to come together.
“Dexter in New Orleans,” she pondered. Her stomach jumbled at the thought that her boyfriend might have walked in on Luc kissing her. How would she explain that? How could she explain that? Her limbs began to shake as she absorbed what had happened.
“Don’t take him to a restaurant. He doesn’t eat spicy food, and there’s nothing worse in this town than a man who can’t down his Tabasco.”
“Judging by your discussion with Luc this morning, he won’t like sharing his date.” Olivia’s blue eyes ignited, and it was understood that the words were a veiled threat. Katie’s escapade into history had not gone unnoticed by the bride.
“What discussion? Luc no longer has a say in anything Katie does,” Eileen said.
“For someone with no say, his lips seemed to be doing a lot of speaking in the club.”
“Luc’s all bluster. Don’t you know that by now?” Eileen asked, bending at the waist and dropping her arms to the banquette.
“Would you stop that?” Katie pounced. “You’re making me as nervous as a cat!”
“It doesn’t normally bother you.” Eileen looked to Olivia. “I have a hard time sitting still. The body just wants to go.” She rocked her fists like she was running. “So anyway, I think Dex is coming to meet your mam and propose, so he can get this wedding on. That boy is more anxious to get married than any woman I ever saw. You’d think he was the one people call an old maid.”
Katie gave a nervous laugh. “So who are the guests your parents have in town for the wedding? Anybody I know?” She hoped to keep the two of them from saying any more about Luc.
“To tell you the truth, I didn’t even ask. What’s your momma cooking tonight?”
“Nothing good for us, if that’s what you’re worried about.”
“I have absolution here,” Eileen claimed. “The spices knock out the calories. Besides, I have to be sweating out about four times the calories in this heat.”
“How’d you get a flight this late? Did your mother pay for the trip?”
“I already told you, I’m charging Luc.”
“Considering you’re here to make sure I never see him again, I doubt he’s going to be feeling generous toward you— although he’d probably give you return fare right now. But I can use you here, so let’s wait on that. When do you think Dex will get here?”
“My guess is not until about seven or so. He was going to get off early from work.”
“How’d you find all this out?”
“Well, when I saw that his status on Facebook said Surprising the woman I love, I did what any self-respecting best friend would do. I called his mother and asked what he was up to.”
“You’re wasting your time in a gym; you should be an undercover spy.”
“I’ll have to admit, I didn’t think he had it in him to actually chase you. It shows drive and—dare I say it? Passion.”
“Dexter has chased me before.”
“When?” Eileen probed.
“He asked me to marry him, didn’t he?”
Olivia grabbed them each by the crook of the arm. “I’m going to take you both out to coffee. We’ll get to be friends, us Southern girls. I want to hear all about Ryan when he was in college!”
“Don’t you have, I don’t know, wedding stuff to do?” Eileen sounded annoyed.
“I’m Olivia Tyler.” The young woman paused for recognition. “The bride. That means I can do as I like, and I’d like to take you both out for a café au lait.”
Olivia possessed a Katharine Hepburn air about her; she was a wistful, intellectual sort, slightly masculine in her features. Considering Ryan’s artsy qualities, Katie supposed this was a good fit for each of them. Everyone needed balance in their lives.
“Eileen’s probably tired after her trip,” she said, while her roommate continued to stretch and twitch like a rabid ferret. “You know, emotionally tired,” she added.
Olivia bristled. “Surely a café au lait won’t take too long.”
“I’m honored that you and Ryan asked me to sing at your wedding, Olivia. That song, ‘Someone to Watch Over Me,’ means a lot to me because it was one of the first I used to sing to the audiences here at the Barrelhouse Club.”
“Luc told me. He has very fond memories of that song. I daresay I’ve never seen him quite so smitten when he talks about anyone.”
“You should see him when he talks to the mirror,” Eileen deadpanned.
Olivia ignored her. “Luc needs to settle down, Katie. He’s losing himself in this job and he’s ready. I don’t know the full story about what happened, but I do know him well enough to know he’s sincere in his feelings.”
Eileen opened her mouth but shut it when Katie held up a finger.
“Olivia, there’s romance in the air,” she said by way of excuse. “But Luc and I . . . we’re just working on closure.”
“It’s closed. Let’s go eat,” Eileen said.
“Is that what you call it? Closure?” Olivia fidgeted with an amethyst amulet around her neck, which hung on a raw black leather strap, giving her Bohemian classic look a permanency. “What I saw in there—”
“Closure!”
Eileen glared at her, and Katie felt color rush to her cheeks. “Maybe we might make those café au laits iced, you think, Olivia?”
Recognition dawned in Olivia’s bright eyes. “Sure. Sure. My car is right this way. If you’re hungry, we can grab a bite while we’re out too.”
“Oh.” Katie held her hands up. “I don’t have my purse. I must have left it in Rusty’s truck this morning.”
“It’s my treat, I already told you. We can talk all about the DeForges family. I’m dying to know how you got along with Mrs. DeForges. Especially after that night. You have to tell me everything.”
The words drifted off as Katie tuned out. She felt limp from the heat and the emotion of the day. This was exactly why she hadn’t wanted to come home. “I’d really like to get home. I’m not used to this heat anymore, and my mother is expecting me.”
“A coffee won’t slow you down. People expect you to be late, you’re in New Orleans.”
“You’re probably not eating well. Did your mother make you fried okra last night?” Eileen prodded. “I told you that you’re allergic to okra.”
“I did head to Central City for a beignet this morning.”
“Of course you did.” Eileen grasped her by the wrist and checked her pulse, as if she’d wilt right there.
Katie wriggled free. “I’m fine. Let’s get that coffee.” Her mind was full. She hadn’t thought singing would bring memories to life, but dancing alongside Ryan was as though she was meeting Luc for the first time. It was as if she’d entered into a perfect moment, held still in time by a glass bubble. None of their history was there, none of the pain, only this man who stood out among many in the audience, a rogue beam of light concentrated upon him. His height and his distinctive, decisive good looks caught her attention like shiny objects to a catfish. She simply couldn’t look away. She hadn’t believed in love at first sight until that moment, because the way he looked at her, it was as though he saw inside her very soul. Now she wondered how she could have been so very wrong . . . how Luc’s actions could be so incongruent with what she had thought him to be.
“My car’s right here,” Olivia said.
Katie looked at Eileen, then back at Olivia. “It’s a Prius,” she said. “I thought Luc said your father was in oil.”
“He is.” Olivia shrugged. “Get in.”
Eileen opened the door. “We’re going to do yoga with prayer when we get home, Katie. You need it. You look pale. Does your mother have carpet in her new house?” Eileen pulled a lever and opened the backseat, crawling in like a hermit crab into a new home. “Doesn’t matter, we can use the grass out front. She has a garden in this new place, right?”
“Eileen, nothing says California weirdo like yoga on the front lawn. I just need a nap, is all.”
She needed to let go of Luc DeForges and this fantasy that he really loved her, that he would protect her from harm and not heap more on her. Isn’t that how women got into abusive situations? They ignored the facts they didn’t want to see? She wanted to have her eyes wide open. She sat in the passenger seat and exchanged looks with Eileen as they waited for Olivia to climb inside. It would all be over soon. Her feelings for Luc, and her ill-fated history, would all be forgotten. She just had to trudge forward and face her fears.
Olivia pulled out into oncoming traffic so quickly, Katie saw her life pass before her eyes.
“When Luc suggested we invite you to sing—”
“Luc? You mean Ryan.”
“Right. Ryan. That’s what I said, right?” Olivia said.
“You said Luc,” Eileen said.
“Right. I meant Ryan. When Ryan asked you to sing—”
“Listen, I don’t mean to be rude, Olivia. I’m really thrilled that you’re having Katie remember just how talented she is at singing. If anything, maybe it will get her back into the church band that does concerts off campus and stuff, not the safe one that performs only for church on Sundays. But I really have to be straight with you: Katie is absolutely and diabolically opposed to any sort of future relationship with Luc DeForges.”
“Is that so?” Olivia said, glowering at Eileen in the rearview mirror.
Katie swallowed hard.
“Sure,” Eileen said. “If anything, she’d like to forget the past relationship she’s had with him. In fact, if they ever allow that kind of technology where they burn memories out of your brain, I think Katie should totally sign up. It’s that over.”
“I think I’m going to be sick,” Katie said. “Can you stop the car, please? Olivia?”
Olivia pulled out of traffic as quickly as she’d pulled in, and Katie nearly vomited as she stumbled out of the car. She stood on the banquette in her red dress and pumps and waited for the world to stop spinning.
“Do you need something to drink?” asked Olivia, who’d gotten out and hurried around to stand beside her.
“I think I just need air.” She sucked in a deep breath but didn’t catch nearly enough oxygen to satisfy her lungs. She tried again, nearly hyperventilating in the humidity. “I’m going to walk. I’ll see you at home.”
“We’re in Central City,” Olivia pointed out.
“She means you’re dressed like a hooker!” Eileen shouted through the sunroof. Her best friend rose out of the hole at the top of the car and threw a garment at her.
Katie unraveled a wadded-up T-shirt and put it on over her dress. Next Eileen tossed a shoe at her. Then another. Katie stepped out of her pumps and sheepishly handed them to Olivia.
“You’re not going to get a coffee with us?”
Katie clutched her stomach. “I don’t think I could take it.”
“Well, all right. If you’re sure.”
“I’ll be all right. I grew up in the Channel,” she said. “I want to walk by my daddy’s store. Maybe my lungs will adjust after the walk.”
“You can’t walk to the Channel and then to Uptown in this heat. Are you insane?” Eileen shouted.
“I can take the streetcar if I need to or the public.” The public was the bus system. For some reason, New Orleaners never added bus to the title.
Eileen was still yelling from inside the car. “No, wait. I’m coming with you.”
“You have no shoes,” Katie pointed out as she slipped them onto her own feet. “I’ll see you soon. Tell Mam I’ll be home for dinner.”
Before Eileen could say another word, Olivia had climbed back inside, slammed the door, and squealed away from the curb.
Katie looked around. She was at the end of the Central, so she walked through the lovely Garden District dreamily . . . it’s de-lightful . . . it’s de-lovely. There was something magical about a canopy of trees that allowed her to escape whatever pain she might bear. The garden of green reminded her that she wasn’t alone, that if God cared for the lilies of the field, how much more did he care for her? Marriage. Children. They were a woman’s highest honor. Surely God would reward her. She was doing the right thing. She was walking away from temptation. Granted, one could argue she hadn’t walked quickly enough that morning, but Dexter’s presence would soothe her. He’d remind her how perfect everything would be, doing God’s will for her life.
The Bible said to look at a man’s fruit. Sure, Luc had a lot of fruit in the form of produce, but in actual good deeds? He didn’t give anything away he couldn’t afford to lose. Whereas Dexter . . . look at the time Dexter spent on church activities and committees. He was a man whose word meant something, a man of integrity.
Katie stopped before an ancient live oak with its magnificent low spread of branches and mossy boughs dripping, as though dressed in vibrant green scarves. Humbling oneself was a hard cross to bear with Luc in her midst. She felt like a fool falling for his beautiful words and deep, meaningful looks. A man’s character was shown in his actions. Luc’s actions were heart-wrenching and wounded her to the core. She wanted to rid herself of that weak part of her soul and skip down the aisle with Dexter.
She stared at her bare ring finger. If her mother didn’t have the ring, she couldn’t imagine where it might be. She removed the idea from her head that maybe she’d only come to New Orleans to be near Luc, to either offer him a final word of good-bye or let herself know that he meant nothing to her any longer. She wanted to start her life with Dexter fresh, and could she do that if she still held animosity for Luc and the humiliation he’d caused her and her family?
Luc’s mentioning the ring to her forced her heart rate up. She couldn’t bear to think that once again he had the upper hand, that she was nothing more than an idle bump in his road of life.
She walked south to Magazine Street but slowed her pace as she approached her father’s old store. She clasped her eyes shut and sucked in a deep breath of languid air before taking the plunge to the next block. The store was gone, naturally, as were three or four of his previous neighbors. Luc’s gleaming, shiny full-scale grocery appeared in neon: FORAGES—SERVING CONSCIOUS EATERS SINCE 2002. The sight of it overwhelmed her, and she felt her father’s loss deeply as if it was as fresh as his produce.
On the banquette, her father used to pile old farming bins with the freshest local fruits and vegetables—and invite his friends to sell their fresh seafood catch when the season was right. Luc’s store did the same, but in a glossy, overbearing way, almost making the fruit appear plastic. The wooden bins looked like something on Main Street in Disneyland.
“Help you, miss?” A young, skinny college-age student appeared, wearing a khaki apron with the conscious-eating slogan slashed across his chest. Conscious eating? She thought this kid made a better billboard for starving urchins in foreign countries. She was still on the banquette and was surprised to see him outside. She knew Luc specified service, but coming outside and questioning people at the bins, that felt extreme. Her father never would have pressured a customer. Of course, that’s why she wore practical shoes and they lived in a shotgun house.
“What’s the best kind of apple right now?” She pitched the question like a fastball.
“We’ve got these Jonagolds on special.”
“Fuji,” she corrected him. “In June, the Fujis and the Empires.” She knew the Jonagolds were available, but it wasn’t their peak. This fresh eating business was nothing more than a consumer ploy.
“Look at this one.” He held up a large, round apple, perfectly unblemished.
“I’m the Empire of my daddy’s eye, you know.”
“Is that so?”
“See this?” She showed him the crown of a ripe Crispin apple and felt a bit like Snow White’s wicked stepmother. “This brown at the crown is all the sugar. These pockmarks and lines mean this is the sweetest apple available right now. You don’t want a perfect-looking apple.”
“Let me know if you need any help,” he said, as he backed away. Who could blame him?
She entered the store through the wide, open barn-like doors. Inside, the store expanded into a cavernous but warm warehouse. The exposed electrical system and greenery unfolded like a high-tech version of nature. Almost as though she’d walked into another world, not the normal sterile drudgery of a grocery store.
The LED lighting captured her attention and she twisted under the bulb, scrutinizing the way it imitated natural sunlight. She wanted to stamp her feet and scream that her father’s food was a connection to the earth and its goodness, not a pale mockery of a farmers market with the illusion of conscious eating. But what did it matter? The illusion is what people wanted. Even her father would have admitted that much. The customer was always right. Even when they were wrong.
The stick-figure boy had followed her inside. He held the same apple, one slice protruding from the rest of the fruit, a paring knife in his other hand. “Customers want perfect apples, and that’s what we strive to give them at Forages.”
She took the proffered fruit and bit into it. “Good,” she said. But not as good as Paddy’s. It never would be.