Ruby (37 page)

"You better be going, Beau," I said. He nodded.
"I'll pick you up for school tomorrow," he said. "Ruby. . ."
"I hope you really meant what you said, Beau. I hope you really do care for me."
"I do. I swear," he said, and kissed me. "I'll see you in the morning. Bye." He was eager to escape. Daphne's looks were like darts sticking into his facade of innocence.
After he left I sat down for a moment. The events of the last hour seemed more like a dream now. It wasn't until I got up and looked at the drawing I had done of him that I realized none of it was a dream. I covered the picture and hurried out, feeling so light, I thought I might just be carried out an open window by a passing breeze.
Gisselle didn't return home in time for dinner. She phoned to say she was eating with her friends. Daphne was very upset about it, but quickly hid her displeasure when our dinner guests, Monsieur Hamilton Davies and his wife, Beatrice, arrived. Monsieur Davies was a man in his late fifties or early sixties who owned a steamboat company that took tourists up and down the Mississippi River. Daphne had let me know that he was one of the wealthiest men in New Orleans, who they were trying to involve with some of my father's investments. She also let me know in no uncertain terms that it was very important I be on my best behavior and make a good impression.
"Don't speak unless spoken to and when someone does speak to you, answer promptly and briefly. They'll be watching the way you comport yourself so remember everything I taught you about dinner etiquette," she lectured.
"If you're worried about me embarrassing you, maybe I should eat earlier," I suggested.
"Nonsense," she said sharply. "The Davies are here because they want to see you. They're the first of our friends I've invited. They know it's an honor," she added in her most haughty, arrogant tone.
Was I some sort of trophy now, a curiosity she was using to enhance her own importance in the eyes of her friends? I wondered, but dared not ask. Instead, I dressed as she told me to dress and took my place at the table, concentrating on my posture and my manners.
The Davies were pleasant enough, but their interest in my story made me uncomfortable. Madame Davies, especially, asked many detailed questions about my life in the bayou with "those awful Cajuns," and I had to make up answers on the spot, glancing quickly at Daphne after each response to see if I had said the right things.
"Ruby's tolerance for these swamp people is understandable," she told the Davies when I didn't sound bitter enough. "For all of her life, she was led to believe she was one of them and they were her family."
"How tragic," Madame Davies said. "And yet, look at how nice she's turning out. You're doing a wonderful job with her, Daphne."
"Thank you," Daphne said, gloating.
"We oughta get her story into the newspapers, Pierre," Hamilton Davies suggested.
"That would only bring her notoriety, Hamilton dear," Daphne said quickly. "The truth is, we've shared these details solely with our dearest friends," she added. The way she smiled, batted her eyelashes, and turned her shoulders at him made his eyes twinkle with pleasure. "And we've asked everyone to be discreet. No sense in making life any more difficult for the poor child than it already has been," she added.
"Of course," Hamilton said. He smiled at me. "That would be the least desirable thing to do. As usual, Daphne, you're a lot wiser and clearer thinkin' than us Creole men."
Daphne lowered and then raised her eyes flirtatiously. Watching her in action, I felt confident I was watching an expert when it came to manipulating men. All the while my father sat back, a smile of admiration, a look of idolization in his eyes. Even so, I was happy when dinner ended and I was excused.
A few hours later, I heard Gisselle return home and go to her room. I waited to see if she would knock on our adjoining door or try it, but she went right to her telephone. I couldn't hear what she was saying, but I heard her voice drone on well into the night. She seemed to have a slew of friends to call. Naturally, I was curious about what she gossiped, but I didn't want to give her the satisfaction of going to her. I was still very angry over the things she had done.
The next morning, she was all brightness and light, just bubbling over with pleasantness at the breakfast table. I was cordial to her in front of Daddy, but I was determined to see her apologize before I would be as friendly as I had been. To both Beau's and ray surprise, she had Martin pick her up for school. Just before she skipped down the steps to get into his car, she turned to me and offered the closest thing to an apology.
"Don't blame-me for what happened. Someone else told them we had gone to Storyville and I had to tell them about your friend," she said. "See you at school, sister dear," she added with a smile.
Before I could reply, she was rushing off. A few moments later, I got into Beau's car and we followed. He was still worried about Daphne.
"Did she say or ask you anything else after I left?" he wanted to know.
"No. She was worried only about pleasing our dinner guests."
"Good," he said with visible relief. "My parents have been invited to dinner at your house next weekend. We'll just have to cool it a bit," he suggested.
But cooling things down was not to be my destiny. As soon as we entered the school, I sensed a different atmosphere about me. Beau thought I was imagining it, but it seemed to me that most of the students were looking my way and smiling. Some hid their smirks behind their hands when they whispered, but many didn't try to be discreet. It wasn't until the end of English class that I found out why.
As the class filed out, one of the boys came up beside me and bumped his shoulder against mine.
"Oh, sorry," he said.
"It's all right." I started away, but he seized my arm to pull me back beside him.
"Say, are you smiling in this?" he asked, holding out his hand and unclenching his fist to reveal a picture of me naked in his palm. It was one of the pictures that had been taken at Claudine's slumber party. In it, I had just turned back and wore a look of shock on my face, but most of my body was clearly exposed.
He laughed and hurried on to join a pack of students who had gathered to wait at the corner of the corridor. The collection of both girls and boys gazed over his shoulder to look at the photograph. A kind of paralyzing numbness gripped me. I felt as if my legs had been nailed to the floor. Suddenly, Gisselle joined the group.
"Make sure you tell everyone it's my sister and not me," she quipped, and everyone laughed. She smiled at me and continued on, arm and arm with Martin.
My tears clouded my vision. Everything looked out of focus or hazy. Even Beau coming down the corridor toward me, a look of concern on his face, seemed distant and distorted. I felt something within me crack and suddenly, a shrill scream flowed out of my mouth. Every single person in the corridor, including some teachers, froze and looked my way.
"Ruby!" Beau called.
I shook my head, denying the reality of what was taking place before me. Some students were laughing; some were smiling. Few looked worried or unhappy.
"You . . animals!" I cried. "You mean, cruel . animals!"
I turned and threw my books down and just lunged at the nearest exit.
"RUBY!" Beau cried after me, but I shot through the door and ran down the steps. He came after me, but I was running as hard and as fast as I had ever run. I nearly got hit by a car when I sprinted across the street. The driver put on his brakes and brought it to a screeching stop, but I didn't pause. I ran on and on, not even looking where I was going. I ran until I felt a dozen needles in my side and then, with my lungs bursting, I finally slowed down and collapsed behind an old, large oak tree on someone's front lawn. There, I sobbed and sobbed until my well of tears ran dry and my chest ached with the heaving and crying.
I closed my eyes and tried to imagine myself far away. I saw myself back in the bayou, floating in a pirogue through the canal on a warm, clear spring day.
The clouds above me now disappeared. The grayness of the New Orleans day was replaced by the sunshine in my memory. As my pirogue floated closer to the shore, I heard Grandmere Catherine singing behind the house. She was hanging up some clothes she had washed.
"Grandmere," I called. She leaned to the right and saw me. Her smile was so bright and alive. She looked so young and so beautiful to me.
"Grandmere;" I muttered with my eyes still shut tight. "I want to go home. I want to be back in the bayou, living with you. I don't care how poor we were or how hard things were for us. I was still happier. Grandmere, please, make it all right again. Don't be dead and gone. Perform one of your rituals and erase time. Make all this just a nightmare. Let me open my eyes and be beside you in the loom room, working. I'll count to three and it will be true. One. . . two. ."
"Hey, there," I heard a man call. I opened my eyes. "What do you think you're doing?" An elderly man with wild snow white hair stood in the doorway of the house in front of which I had collapsed. He waved a black cane toward me. "What do you want here?"
"I was just resting, sir," I said.
"This isn't a park, you know," he said. He looked at me more closely. "Shouldn't you be in school?" he demanded.
"Yes, sir," I said and got up. "I'm sorry," I said, and walked off quickly. When I reached the corner, I gathered my bearings and hurried up the next street. Realizing how close I was, I headed for home. When I arrived, Daddy and Daphne were already gone.
"Mademoiselle Ruby?" Edgar said, opening the door and looking out at me. This time I couldn't hide my tear-streaked face or pretend to be all right. He tightened his face into an expression of concern and anger. "Come along," he ordered. I followed him through the corridor to the kitchen. "Nina," he said as soon as we entered. Nina turned around and took one look at me and then at him. She nodded.
"She'll be fine with me," she said, and Edgar, looking satisfied, left. Nina drew closer.
"What happened?" she demanded.
"Oh, Nina," I cried. "No matter what I do, she finds a way to hurt me."
Nina nodded.
"No more. You come with Nina now. This will be stopped. Wait here," she commanded, and left me in the kitchen. I heard her go down the corridor to the stairway. After a minute or so, she returned and took my hand. I thought she was going to take me back to her room again for one of her voodoo rituals. But she surprised me. She threw off her apron and led me to the back door.
"Where are we going, Nina?" I asked as she hurried me through the yard to the street.
"To see Mama Dede. You need very strong gris-gris. Only Mama Dede can do it. Just one thing, child," she said, stopping at the corner and drawing her face closer to mine, her black eyes wide with excitement. "Do not tell Monsieur and Madame Dumas where I'm taking you, okay? This will be our secret only, okay?"
"Who is . ?"
"Mama Dede, voodoo queen of all New Orleans now."
"What is Mama Dede going to do?"
"Get your sister to stop hurting you. Drive Papa La Bas out of her heart. Make her be good. You want that?"
"Yes, Nina. I want that," I said.
"Then swear to keep the secret. Swear."
"I swear, Nina."
"Good. Come," she said, and started us down the walk again. I was just angry enough to go anywhere and do anything she wanted.
We took the streetcar and then got off and took a bus to a rundown section of the city in which I had never been, nor even seen. The buildings looked no better than shacks. Black children, most too young to go to school, played on the scarred and bald front yards. Broken-down cars and some that looked like they were about to break down were parked along the streets. The sidewalks were dirty, the gutters full of cans, bottles, and paper. Here and there a lone sycamore or magnolia tree struggled to battle the abused surroundings. To me this looked like a place where the sun itself hated to shine. No matter how bright the day, everything still looked tarnished, rusted, faded.
Nina hurried us along the sidewalk until we reached a shack house no better or no worse than any of the others. The windows all had dark shades drawn and the sidewalk, steps, and even the front door were chipped and cracked. Above the front door hung a string of bones and feathers.
"The queen lives here?" I asked, astounded. I had been expecting another mansion.
"She sure do," Nina said. We went down the narrow walk to the front door and Nina turned the bell key. After a moment a very old black woman, toothless, her hair so thin, I could see the shape and color of her scalp, opened the door and peered out. She wore what looked like a potato sack to me. Stooped, her shoulders turned in sharply, she lifted her tired eyes to gaze at Nina and me. I didn't think she was any more than four feet tall. She wore a pair of men's sneakers, stained, without laces, and no socks.
"Must see Mama Dede," Nina said. The old lady nodded and stepped back so we could enter the small house. The walls were cracked and peeling. The floor looked like it had once been covered with carpet that had just recently been ripped up. Here and there pieces of it remained glued or tacked to the slats. The aroma of something very sweet flowed from the rear of the house. The old lady gestured toward a room on the left and Nina took my hand and we entered.
A half-dozen large candles provided the light. The room looked like a store. It was that full of charms and bones, dolls, and bunches of feathers, hair, and snakeskins. One wall was covered with shelves and shelves of jars of powders. And there were cartons of different color candles on the floor along the far wall.
In the midst of all this clutter were a small settee and two torn easy chairs, the springs popped out of the bottom of one. Between the chairs and the settee was a wooden box. Gold and silver shapes had been etched around it.
"Sit," the old lady commanded. Nina nodded at the easy chair on our left and I went to it. She went to the other.
"Nina. . ." I began.
"Shh," she said and closed her eyes. "Just wait." A moment later, from somewhere else in the house, I heard the sound of a drum. It was a low, steady beat. I couldn't help but become nervous and afraid. Why had I allowed myself to be brought here?
Suddenly, the blanket that hung in the doorway in front of us parted and a much younger looking black woman appeared. She had long, silky black hair gathered in thick ropelike strands around her head, over which she wore a red tignon with seven knots whose points all stuck straight up. She was tall and wore a black robe that flowed all the way down to her bare feet. I thought she had a pretty face, lean with high cheekbones and a nicely shaped mouth, but when she turned to me, I shuddered. Her eyes were as gray as granite.