Landlocked (A water witch novel) (34 page)

I smiled. She was the one thing that hadn’t changed in the past few days. “Okay, but don’t be badgering me with questions. I just need to get away, promise?”

“Yeah, yeah, I promise. Now, seriously, move. It’s freaking me out to see you behind the wheel.”

I straddled the center console and slipped into the passenger seat.

She got in and slipped her sunglasses back on. “So where are we going, Thelma?”

“Why Thelma?”

“Well I prefer Louise, do I look like a Thelma to you?” she asked, flipping her side swept bangs out of her face.

“I guess not.”

“So… where am I driving you?”

“The beach,” I said, excitement spreading through me as the words passed my lips.

“Thought as much. Early spring break, here we come.” She threw the car back in drive and pealed out, turning the heads of many of the people lining the street. A Prius speeding off like it was in the Indy 500 wasn’t something people saw every day.

18

As she pulled onto the highway, Clarissa spoke up. “Most of the coast is swamp. This isn’t Florida, you know. I can only think of one actual sandy beach, it’s on the Grand Isle, by the state park… but that’s kinda far away.”

“Hm.” I hadn’t thought things through very well. I knew our coastline was mostly marshes because of all the silt the Mississippi river dumped out, but I had forgotten that in my rush to visit the place of my dreams. “Well then let’s go there. I don’t care how long the drive is. I really don’t want to have to take a fan boat out to see the ocean.”

She laughed. “Good, I’m not a fan of gators… Do you want to go straight there? I still haven’t eaten lunch—and you’ve never been to New Orleans,” she said, letting her accent out extra thick around the name of the famed city. “Which is, like, almost blaspheme to any real resident of Louisiana.”

Clarissa did wonders to help me feel like the world wasn’t crumbling after all. How could it be when she was still unchanged and so utterly herself? I grinned. “I could be down with that. You’ll have to convince me why it’s so great first.”

“Well I have been to tons of the hot cities across the globe, and as far as this country goes, there is no beating New Orleans. It’s beautiful, mysterious, and constantly partying.”

“Are you describing the city or yourself?” I laughed.

“Maybe that’s why I love it there, we’re alike. Anyway, we have to eat first, or I might die. But after that I could take you to this area of town that’s always having a street fair. They have the cutest accessories… maybe not as unique as your bracelet, but still pretty awesome.”

I looked at my wrist; I'd forgotten I was still wearing it.

“Anyway, the last time we came here, Daddy took me on one of the river boat cruises. The music was fab and the food even better.”

For the rest of the four-hour drive, she told me stories about her visits to the city with her dad. Apparently, one of his many factories was there and they went often. It sounded like she had made some great memories in New Orleans, and for the first time in my life, a pang of jealousy hit me. Clarissa had spent weekends jaunting around the world with her father; they had made memories and expressed love… And I would never have that. Not because my dad was dead like I had been led my entire life to believe—but if what Sylvia said was true—because he'd chosen to give me up. Maybe he hadn't wanted the responsibility of raising me on his own. Maybe he hadn't wanted the sleepless nights and headaches that children caused, but millions of parents around the world made those sacrifices for their kids, why not mine? Was I not worth it?

Clarissa crowed when the city came into view. “We’re just beating rush hour traffic!”

“Thanks to your habit of ignoring pesky speed limit signs.” I was glad we'd made it in record time, but had to tease her anyway. Sitting in stop and go traffic and breathing in the stinking car fumes wasn’t what I wanted to do.

“I wasn’t speeding… by much,” she said, slowing the car down to get onto the off ramp, leaving the interstate behind us.

Palm trees lined the street and a bright blue sign welcomed us to the city. A huge building that looked like a flattened hour glass with a bowl resting on top was on our right. As we passed the strange building, a flashing billboard announced the next event at the Super Dome.

“Is that were the Saints play?” I asked.

“Yep, should we wait in the parking lot and see if we can reel in any cute pro-football players?”

“Clarissa!”

“What? We’re both eighteen now and I do love a man in uniform.”

I laughed. “So where are all of the old buildings full of character that I was expecting?” I looked around and saw nothing but dark steely gray and silver high risers, whose shadows cast the streets into shade.

“You’ll see plenty of them where we’re going. Most of the historical buildings are in the French Quarter, which is where my three favorite restaurants are.”

“In this huge city, your three favorite restaurants are in the same quarter?” I asked.

“Of course, anything worth doing is in the French Quarter… Okay, so there’s Galatoire’s, which is like a really old staple that’s been in biz forever. Then there’s Restaurant R’Evolution, a new place that is amazing. And I think my all-time fave is SoBou, which has the most delicious spins on classic Louis dishes. I am on my way to a no-food coma, so you better choose quickly,” she said, turning down a street named Bienville, and I finally got to see the old buildings I had been looking for. They had beautiful trim details and many had second story porches that reminded me somehow of the covered riverboats that the city was known for.

“Let’s go to SoBou.”

“Yay! I was hoping you’d pick that one.” She turned left on Chartres St. and pulled the car to the side of the road, parallel parking into one of the few empty spots. We got out and skirted the cars and buggies. They were everywhere, though I felt that the streets were far too narrow to park along.

I looked around while following Clarissa and was surprised that among the beautifully finished character rich buildings were dilapidated buildings with cracked siding and peeling paint. She must have noticed my eyes lingering and cleared her throat.

“Still hasn’t bounced back from Hurricane Katrina, but it’s a lot better off… I wish you could have seen it before the devastation. So many great places are still abandoned.” There was a sadness in her voice that I rarely heard, and I understood how much the city really meant to her.

“But this place isn’t!” She squealed as the host opened the door for us, her normal manner slipped back on.

I sucked in a breath as I walked through one of the tall white double doors; I’d never seen a restaurant with so many interesting finishes. Exposed brick and brown tables and chairs gave the place a warm feel. The floor was gray tile laid in a chevron pattern, and a giant light fixture that resembled the end of a trumpet hung in the center of the room. Its light set a golden glow over the place. A short middle-aged waiter stepped forward and took us to one of the tables by a feature wall that had shelves lined with different sized and shaped glass bottles backlit to make them glow.

“Can I start you ladies off with something to drink?” he asked.

“Yes, I’ll have a white wine,” Clarissa said with as much confidence in her voice as possible. One of the waiter’s eyebrows arched skeptically and she sighed. “All right, a Shirley Temple then.”

“Right away, miss. And for you?” he asked, turning his whole body stiffly toward me.

“I’ll just have water,” I said.

He nodded and handed us menus.

“I’ll be back shortly.”

I looked at the delicate menu tied at the corner with a silk ribbon. “You know, most teenagers just stop by McDonalds when they’re hungry.” I read the gourmet offerings.

“Most teens don’t have a credit card in their name like you and I… and as much as I don’t mind McD’s, I know that you hate it. You fancy thing you.” She winked at me before turning her eyes back to the menu.

I did hate fast food, not that I voiced that opinion often. Clarissa had just known me for so long, she knew all of the little quirks about me, just as I knew hers.

The waiter was back with our drinks, and after setting them down, he straightened up. They must have run their poor employees through posture boot camp. “Need more time, miss?”

“No, I’m starving,” Clarissa said quickly. “I’ll have your tender pork gumbo.”

“Very good. And for you?”

“I’ll have the blue crab mousse—”

“You know that has caviar on it, right?” Clarissa interrupted.

“Yes,” I said, my mouth watering at the thought.

Clarissa made a gagging gesture and the waiter scowled. I giggled.

“So… the pork gumbo over potato salad and the blue crab mousse topped with caviar?”

“Where’s the bathroom?” Clarissa asked.

He raised his finger like a dagger and pointed to the back of the place. She nodded and stood up.

“It will be out shortly.” He gave a quick bow and scuttled off, pursing his thin lips, apparently offended by our table manners.

I had never eaten such a delicious meal in all of my life; nothing had even come close. Comparing the blue crab mousse to another dish was impossible. The light, airy entre’ paired perfectly with the texture and sharp taste of the caviar. It was divine.

“So, you ready for a street fair?” Clarissa said as we walked back out into the street. The sun wasn’t quite as high in the sky and I guessed it was after six.

“And then, we’ll go straight to the beach on the Grand Isle?” I asked.

“Sure, I just want to see what they have and show you how awesome it is.”

I shrugged. I had little interest in a flea market. All I wanted was to go to the ocean; the desire grew stronger when my mind wandered back to the events of the morning. Picturing myself wading into the vast sea was the only thing keeping me from crying at the absurdity and pain of it all.

“No, not that way,” Clarissa said as I headed toward the car. “It’s only a few blocks away and we might not find parking. We’re hoofin’ it.”

I choked back a groan.

“Oh come on! I promise that the ocean will not up and disappear in three hours,” she said.

“Is that how long it’s going to take?” I whined.

“No it’s only a two hour drive, but if we spend an hour here…”

I caved. “Okay, let’s go. I’ll try to actually have fun.”

“Honey, we’re in New Orleans. I dare you to not have fun.”

The walk was longer than I expected, and I thought Clarissa used the term ‘a few blocks’ rather loosely, although she was dead on about the parking. The streets were absolutely packed with rowdy people. It was a little unnerving; my small town never looked like this, even on a Saturday night.

“How much farther?” I asked as a group of college-aged boys brushed past us, making offers that were easy to refuse.

“We’re almost there.” She looked over at me and smiled. “You’re so jumpy. Are you feeling a little naked without your aunt or uncle at your elbow?”

I bit my lip. I could tell she was baiting me to talk about what had happened if I wanted to. And the truth was, when I thought about it, she was dead right. If Sylvia or Dylan had been there, I would have felt perfectly safe even in the most unruly crowd. “Yes, a little bit.”

“So why did you run away?” she asked. We turned the corner and venders instead of cars lined the streets.

“Without getting into specifics… Sylvia told me something about my parents—a secret that she has kept from me. I feel like she's lied to me my whole life.” Saying the words out loud was painful; my chest constricted and it was hard to breath.