Landry 05 Tarnished Gold (4 page)

"Yes, Mama?"
"Then maybe what you're thinking ain't so evil after all," she said. Then she took a deep breath as if the advice had drained her of the little energy that remained after so hard a day of cooking and baking. She also did a lot of cleaning around the shack so it would look as presentable as possible to our guests tomorrow.
"You're tired, Mama. You should go to sleep."
"Oui.
I should," she admitted. She sighed, gazed into the darkness for a moment, her gaze sliding over the shadows in search of Daddy, and then she rose with great effort. We went into the shack together and upstairs.
"Tonight's the last night you go to bed a little girl," Mama told me after I got into bed. She sat at my feet for a few moments. "Tomorrow you graduate. You're a young woman now." She started to hum a Cajun lullaby, one she used to sing to me when I was a little girl.
"Mama?"
"Yes, honey."
"Before you met Daddy, did you have any other boyfriends?"
"I had a number of young men on my tail," she said, smiling. "My father would shoo them away like flies."
"But . . . did any of them become your boyfriend?"
"Oh, I had my little romances."
"Did you . . ."
"Did I what, honey?" ,
"Did you kiss and do things with the other boys?"
"What kind of a question to ask is that, Gabriel?" she said, pulling her shoulders up. She held a small smile, however.
"I just wondered if that was what was supposed to be."
"Kissing and things is supposed to be, if that's what you mean, but you got to remember what I told you my grandmere told me: 'Sex, Catherine,' she used to say, 'is just Nature's little trick to bring the two people right for each other together.' "
"What if people who aren't right for each other have sex?" I pursued, speaking softly, afraid that if I spoke too loudly or too fast, the magic moment during which Mama would tell me intimate things would burst and be gone.
"Well then, it's just sex. It might make them feel good for the moment, but afterward," she said with a scowl, "they'll feel they lost a little of something precious, something of themselves. That's what I believe. I suppose," she added, raising her right eyebrow, "your girlfriends would laugh at that,
n'estce pas?"
"I
don't know, Mama. I don't care what they think."
She stared at me a moment. "You want to tell me something, Gabriel, something gnawing at your insides?"
The words were on my tongue, but I swallowed them back.
"No, Mama. I just wondered, that's all."
She nodded. "Just natural. Trust your instincts," she said. "You got good ones. Well, good night, Miss Graduate," she said, and leaned over to kiss my cheek. I held on to her a bit longer than I should have, and Mama's eyebrows went up again, her eyes sharp and small.
"I'm always willing to listen and help you, honey. Don't ever forget that," she said.
"I know, Mama. Good night."
"Good night," she said, and got up even though I sensed she wanted to remain there until I told her what was behind my dark eyes.
I thought about Mama's words and wondered what part of myself I had left in the swamp. My worrying caused something hard and heavy to grow in my chest, making it ache. I put my palms together under my chin, closed my eyes, and prayed.
"Please, dear God," I muttered, "forgive me if I did anything to cause this evil thing to happen to me."
I tried to throw off the dreary feelings. Fatigue closed my eyes, but sleep was driven back by my tossing and turning. Anticipating the excitement of tomorrow, worrying about what had happened, worrying about Daddy and about Mama, kept me wide-awake until the wee hours of the morning. The sun was actually turning the inky sky into a shade of red slate when I finally drifted into a deep repose. I woke to Mama's shaking the bed.
"Gabriel, you can't oversleep this morning!" she said, laughing.
"Oh. Oh, what time is it?" I looked at the clock and leaped out of bed.
We were getting our final report cards, turning in our books, saying our good-byes today, the last day of school.
"Go wash the sleep out of that face in the rain barrel," Mama ordered. "I'll have some breakfast for you."
"Did Daddy come home?" I asked.
"No. You would have smelled him if he had," she offered, and went down to make breakfast.
I washed my face in the rainwater, brushed my hair, and put on my clothes. Mama was mumbling about all the things she was still going to do in preparation for my graduation party. Every once in a while she would break to complain about Daddy.
"He better be back here today and make himself presentable for the ceremony," she warned.
"He will, Mama. I'm sure."
"You have faith in everyone and everything," Mama said. "You'd even give a snapping turtle a second chance."
I couldn't help it. Today, of all days, I wanted to think only good and happy thoughts.
There was a storm of excitement at school: torrents of laughter and giggling, smiles raining down over us, our hearts thumping like thunder. The classrooms only calmed down when Mr. Pitot visited them. Everyone sat with his or her hands folded, backs straight as we were taught, eyes forward. Some chairs squeaked.
Mr. Pitot congratulated us on a fine year, complimented the students who maintained high grades and who never misbehaved. He warned us about our behavior at the ceremonies.
"The public will be our guests. Parents, family members, friends, will all have their eyes on you, on us. It is incumbent upon us to put on our best faces."
I turned and saw Jacques Bascomb put his tongue under his upper lip so he resembled a monkey. It was hard to believe that some of the boys in my class would be out working and raising families in less than a year's time.
School ended after the morning session so we could all go home and get into our graduation clothes. When I arrived and found Mama setting up tables for our guests outside, I knew Daddy had not returned yet.
"Mama, this is too much for you to do by yourself," I complained.
"It's all right; honey. I'm fine. When you have your heart soaking in happiness, you don't feel the labor."
"But afterward you will," I chastised.
"Listen to you," she said, standing back with her hands on her small hips. "Just graduated and already bossy."
"I'm not being bossy. I'm being sensible, Mama."
"I know, honey. Okay. I'll wait for help 'fore I do anything heavy. That's a promise," she said. I hoped she would keep it. I saw the palms of her hands were red from lifting and sliding the tables and chairs. Where was Daddy? How could he be so
inconsiderate?
I went inside and after eating only half of the po'boy sandwich Mama had prepared for my lunch, I got into my dress and fixed my hair again. Then I went outside and sat on the gallery, waiting for the time to pass and hoping to see my daddy come walking up to the house, full of apologies, but eager to help make this one of the happiest days of our lives.
He never showed.
Mama put on her best dress and brushed and pinned her hair. We stalled and waited as long as we could. Finally she emerged, her face burning with fury, those eyes ready to sear through Daddy's and set his soul on fire.
"Let's go, honey. We don't want you to be late," she said.
I didn't mention Daddy. We both started down the road. When we joined the Thibodeaus and Livaudises, they asked about Daddy.
"He'll meet us at the festivities," Mama said, but anyone could see that shadows had come to darken and pain Mama's happiness. No one asked why. They all looked at each other and knew the answer anyway.
There was a big crowd at the school by the time we arrived. Yvette, Evelyn, and I hurried into the building to put on our graduation gowns and caps and get into place. Mr. Ternant was as nervous as a gray squirrel, marching up and down the corridor, repeating the same orders, his head bobbing, his hands fluttering like two range chickens spooked by a fox. Finally we heard the first notes from Mrs. Parlange's piano and then Mr. Pitot's accordion. Everyone grew quiet.
"Attention," Mr. Ternant said, holding his right hand up like a general leading his troops to battle. The processional began and his arm lowered, his fingers pointing forward. "Begin!"
We got into step and trailed out to the stage. It seemed brighter than ever, the sun glistening off every shiny surface. Parents and family strained their necks like, egrets to get views of their graduates. Cameras were clicking, babies were crying. I gazed at Mrs. Parlange and saw she was playing the piano as if she were in a concert hall, looking neither to the right or to the left.
Remarkably, we all wove in and out of the aisles of seats to our own and sat orderly when the processional ended. After we were all seated, Mr. Pitot stepped on the stage beside the dignitaries. He gazed at us and then nodded his satisfaction before approaching the microphone. The ceremony, my graduation, was about to begin.
I searched the audience until I spotted Mama. She had kept a seat beside her, but it was empty. My heart sunk. How could Daddy miss my graduation? Please, please, dear God, I prayed, don't let him miss it.
And then my gaze shifted to the right and I saw Monsieur Tate. He was in the first row beside his wife. His eyes were fixed on me, his lips pressed tightly together. The unexpected sight of him put my heart into triple time and took my breath away. I looked at Gladys Tate to see if she noticed how he was staring at me, but she looked like she was bored.
She was very elegantly dressed, however, and had her hair cut and styled, with bubbles of pearls in her ears and around her neck. Gladys Tate was one of the more attractive women in our town. She had a regal stature and always walked and spoke with an air of superiority.
I looked away quickly, closed my eyes and caught my breath.
After Mr. Pitot and Mrs. Parlange played two numbers, Mr. Pitot returned to the stage and made a small speech about us all graduating at one of the most important times in history. He said we had a country to rebuild as soon as the war ended, and because so many young men were away and killed, we had more responsibilities. His words frightened me a bit and made me feel a little guilty about not doing something more with my life. Maybe I should have become a nurse, I thought.
After Mr. Pitot's speech, Theresa Rousseau, our salutatorian, got up and made her speech, followed by the valedictorian, Jane Crump, who had never missed a day of school or gotten a grade lower than ninetyfive on a test. She was a short, plump girl with glasses so thick they looked like goggles, but her father was president of the bank and everyone expected he would find her a suitable husband after she had gone to college to become a teacher herself.
Finally it was time to distribute the diplomas. I had been sitting there, twisting my hands together as if I had a roll of yarn in them, afraid to look at Mama and terrified of looking to the right and seeing Mr. and Mrs. Tate. But when I did look at Mama this time, my heart jumped.
There was Daddy sitting beside her, his hair wet and brushed, his best shirt and pants on. He had even shaved. But Mama was not smiling. Daddy was, beaming, and waving at me so much, I had to wave back to stop him from embarrassing Mama. Mr. Pitot began to call out the names of the graduates. My heart began to thump against my chest. I thought for sure when I stood up, my legs would turn to butter and I would sink to the stage floor.
"Gabriel Landry," Mr. Pitot cried out.
I rose, knowing all eyes were on me, the eyes of Mama's friends and people who respected and thought highly of her, the eyes of those who thought I was
La Fille au Nature!,
and the eyes of Octavious Tate. I couldn't help but glance his way once. He had a small smile on his lips. Gladys Tate was gazing up at me with some interest.
Just as I reached for my diploma, Daddy jumped up in the audience and shouted.
"That there's my daughter, the first Landry to graduate school!
Hal-le-luja!"
There was a roar of laughter. I felt my stomach sink to my knees. I turned and saw Mama tugging on Daddy's shirt to get him to sit down. Tears blinded my vision. I took my diploma quickly and ran off the stage and into the school building to escape the laughing eyes. I was supposed to go back to my seat and march away with my class, but I couldn't do it, and it wasn't only because of Daddy's outburst.
Monsieur Tate's eyes had burned through my graduation gown. I had felt naked on that stage, naked and obviously violated. I had felt as if everyone in Houma could see what had happened to me. I ran down the corridor and into the girls' bathroom where I sat on a closed toilet seat and cried, my diploma in my hands. Moments later, Mrs. Parlange came rushing in after me.
"What are you doing? Mr. Ternant is having heart failure out there. You're supposed to go back to your seat and leave the stage with your class. You knew that, Gabriel. Why are you crying?" she followed, as if she first opened her eyes and saw me.
"I can't go back, Mrs. Parlange. I can't. I'm sorry. I'll apologize to Mr. Ternant later."
"Oh, my dear. Dear, dear," she said, waving her right hand back and forth to fan her face.
Bewilderment clouded her expression. "This has never happened before. I really don't know what to do."
"I'm sorry," I wailed.
"Yes, well, yes," she said, and walked out on tiptoes.
I choked back my sobs, feeling as if I had cried dry that bottomless well of tears. Then I took a deep breath and looked at my diploma. How proud Mama was of me and how sick to her stomach she must be right now, too, I thought. I sat there, not sure of what I should do next. My heart stopped racing, finally, and I rose. When I gazed at myself in the mirror, I saw a face flushed and streaked with dry tears. I washed and dried it, took another deep breath, and walked out just as the processional to take the students off the stage had begun. I was at the doorway when they began to enter.
"What happened to you?" Yvette demanded.
"You made a fool out of the whole class," Evelyn said. "What you do, see your ghost
boyfriend?"
"What ghost boyfriend?" Patti Arnot asked, which brought a half dozen others around us quickly.
"You'll have to ask her," Evelyn said. "I'm disgusted with her behavior."
"Me too," Yvette said.
It was as if I had broken out with measles. Everyone kept away from me. I retreated to a corner and took off my graduation gown and cap, just as Mr. Tennant came looking for me.
"You graduated," he said angrily before I could apologize, "so I can't punish you, put you on detention, or have you wash blackboards until your fingers turn blue, but what you did out there embarrassed us all, young lady."