Plaquemines Parish

By: Pee Jay
(© 2008 by the author)

The author retains all rights. No reproductions are allowed without the author's consent. Comments are appreciated at...

Chapter 9

It was Wednesday night and I was nervous as hell as I readied myself for the St. John’s Eve ceremony. I couldn’t eat much at dinner because my stomach had butterflies. Mike sensed something was up but he kept quiet and I was grateful for that. I was sitting in the library with them after showering and cleaning up watching television and waiting. I snuggled up to Steve placing his arm around my shoulder. He gave me a quick squeeze, which felt good, then relaxed his arm. Dave and Greg were running late so I pulled my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time again. It was ten till nine.

During a commercial break Steve asked, “When are they picking you up?”

“Greg said they would be here at eight-thirty. I’m going upstairs to call and find out where they are.”

I went to my room and called Greg’s cell. He answered and said they would be in front of the house in a couple of minutes and sound the horn; then he hung up. I reclined on the bed with my hands behind my head wondering how the events of the evening would unfold. I wished I had told Steve and Mike the truth but it seemed too late for that. If I fessed up now, Mike would surely have a fit and the trust they placed in me would be all but spent. I hated the feeling that my deception wrought and couldn’t think how to make it right. I exhaled and closed my eyes hoping things would work out.

Greg blew the horn on the car, which was easily audible inside, so I headed downstairs. I said good night to Steve and Mike, who walked me to the door,

“Remember— no drugs or alcohol,” Mike said flatly. “And if there’s trouble, call us.”

“I will, Mike. See you guys later.”

“Is your phone charged up?”

“Yeah, I’ll keep it on. See ya.”

Mike looked seven feet tall as I turned to go. I was feeling bad about lying and having trouble looking him in the eye. God, how I hated the feeling inside and how small it made me feel. Aside from mom, they were the only two people in the world that really cared about me and I treated them with disdain; like I didn’t care. It wasn’t a good feeling. I climbed into the back seat of the car and closed the door. As the car pulled away, I glanced at Steve and Mike who were going back inside. I vowed at that moment never to lie to them again.

Dave unhitched his seat belt turning in his seat to face me, “Come here sexy,” he said smiling. “I need something.”

The car was quite roomy inside so I had to slide forward to meet and kiss him. It was nice that he did it so I tried to put some feeling into it but I wasn’t terribly motivated. When we parted, I noticed Greg watching in the rearview mirror. He had an intent look on his face, which I dismissed without further thought.

“Are you guys up for this?” Greg asked. “This is going to be awesome. I can’t wait.”

“I’m up for it,” Dave answered. “What time do you have to be home, Val?”

“Midnight, and I can’t be late either. Mike was clear about that and I don’t want to get into any more trouble than I already am.”

“What kind of trouble are you in now?” Greg wanted to know.

“In case you forgot, I lied so I could go tonight,” I said sarcastically.

“What a puss. We’re doing this for you and you’re acting like a righteous little prima donna.”

Well that rather pissed me off so I said, “And you’re acting like a dumbass retard with your head up your ass. Besides, you’re the one that wants to go.” It was true too. He had pushed hard to make this happen.

I felt like maybe I over reacted. That volley was enough to keep everyone quiet in their seats. Greg turned the radio on to fill the void as we rode silently down the freeway toward the causeway. When we arrived at the tollbooth to cross Lake Ponchartrain, Greg looked at me in the rearview mirror and asked for three dollars to pay the toll.

“You don’t have any money, Mr. Bigshot?” I said. “If you can’t pay the toll then turn this heap around.”

I was sure that would get to him. The car was anything but a heap; it was the most luxurious car I had ever been in.

“Would you two knock it off?” Dave chided. “Here’s the money,” he said handing Greg a twenty-dollar bill.

That was just fine with me. I was the poor one here and seemed to get stuck paying for everything all the time. As we pulled away from the tollbooth, I noticed a sign welcoming motorists to the world’s longest bridge, reminding motorists to drive carefully. Somewhere near the middle of the lake, we had to wait at the drawbridge for some boats to pass then drove the rest of the way to the north shore.

We found Fountainebleau Park east of Mandeville and turned off the highway into the park. It was close to dark and getting hard to see beyond the headlights of the car. Greg drove slowly as we all watched for some sign indicating where the St. John’s Eve ceremony might be taking place.

We came upon a building that looked like a visitor center with adjacent parking so Greg parked the car. We surveyed the area and noticed the soft glow of fire a good distance to the east and close to the water so Greg suggested we walk in that direction. As we neared the area, we heard the steady beat of bongos. My heart began to beat faster with anticipation. It must have had a similar effect on Dave because he neared me and we held onto each other as we walked. Greg was walking in front of us with all his faculties on full alert. It was kind of strange that something like this could be so stimulating for him.

We were close enough to the action to know we were in the right place when Greg turned around with a big grin on his face,

“This is it,” he said looking pleased that we were finally there.

He reached into the pocket of his shorts and pulled out a pint of booze. He took a big swig and handed the bottle to Dave. He accepted it and looked at me grinning then took a swig and started coughing and gagging as the liquor escaped through his nose and mouth.

“Give me that,” Greg said. “You’re wasting it, ya wuss,” then he took another swig and offered the bottle to me.

I shook my head declining his offer as Mike’s words rang loud and clear in my head.

“Pussy” was all Greg said starting in the direction of the bonfire. “C’mon, let’s go.”

As we entered the area where the event was to take place, Dave took the bottle of booze from Greg and took a long hit off the bottle. I noticed from the label that it was rum.

“Take all you want, I have another one,” Greg said as Dave held the bottle upside down to his lips.

We stood on the fringe unsure of what to do or where to go. The sky held the last hint of daylight on the horizon accentuating the outline of the moss hanging from the trees. There was a gentle savannah coming off the lake refreshing the area with the smell of brackish lake water. The occasional gull screech pierced the air. There was an ominous quality about the place.

It was hard to tell how many people were there, maybe fifty or so milling around with more approaching all the time. Some were drinking around the fire as others sat at picnic tables or on blankets spread out over the grass. Everyone seemed to be holding a bottle or sitting next to one. There was a makeshift altar erected with sawhorses and plywood where Mother Wattles stood busy at work. Her head was wrapped with brilliantly colored material pinned in place with a large colorful feather positioned upright in the rear. She wore a two-piece outfit, a sarong with matching material tied in the back to cover her breasts.

Among other things, she placed candles on a tablecloth that didn’t quite cover the plywood. The altar was full of flasks and jars with God knows what inside them. She had a goat tied to a tree nearby that grazed indifferently as though none of this were taking place. On the ground in front of the altar was a cage fashioned from wood lath with chickens clucking and strutting around inside.

As we made our way to a picnic table, I noticed we were in the minority. Most of the attendees were people of color. We threaded through the throng of participants keeping to ourselves and avoiding eye contact. We chose a table away from the others so we could observe from a distance. Greg sat with his back to us watching the action while Dave and I sat on the other side leaning on the table with our elbows. As we sat in silence, I watched the flames of the bonfire dance and the shadows move in concert with them while the bongos sounded out a steady rhythm. It was eerily seductive. Half of me wanted to get up and run out of fear while the other half was entranced with the anticipation of what was to come.

A barefoot black man wearing a sarong around his waist began to sing and dance around the fire turning in circles carrying a bottle of rum in one hand. As he danced, he raised his knees alternately above his waist while swirling his arms in the air. At the altar, Mother Wattles’ arms were outstretched forming a crucifix as she gazed upward at the night sky chanting in some strange island dialect. She alternately cocked her head back looking up with her eyes closed then looking straight ahead, opening them wide enough so we could see the whites from where we sat. I almost laughed at the thought of her seeing a ghost but that was exactly the look she had on her face.

Several of the others began to join in and dance around the fire. Most of them carried a bottle of booze and from what I had seen so far; the majority of them preferred rum. I guessed it was a Caribbean custom that persisted through the generations.

“Let’s walk around,” Greg suggested.

“Okay,” Dave responded enthusiastically.

I didn’t want to get any closer than we already were but I was even more apprehensive of staying there alone so I agreed. Dave and Greg were taking the lead as I followed tentatively behind them. We started in the direction of Mother Wattles weaving our way through the crowd avoiding bodies and trying not to step on blankets as we walked. About half the distance to her, we passed a blanket with two women and a man engaging in sexual foreplay. I was appalled at the rather cavalier attitude of the people around. No one seemed to give it any mind as if it were commonplace or expected. Needless to say, it was weird and I couldn’t resist checking out the bulge in the guy’s pants.

I spent a little too much time gawking so I had to quicken my pace to catch up. Greg stopped in front of the altar and took a few gulps from the bottle then passed it to Dave. He did the same then looked at me when he finished. He knew better than to offer it so he forced a quick smile and capped the bottle placing it in his pocket.

Greg was staring at Mother Wattles who was in her own realm. She was brewing something in an old cast iron pot she had placed over a small fire off to the side of the altar. She chanted as she added unmeasured ingredients to the bubbling mix, stirring as she did. By this time, the crowd was noticeably larger, dancing and milling around the bonfire. The noise level from the beating bongos and chanting had risen substantially. Some of the women had their breasts exposed while most of the men were shirtless wearing shorts or sarong like garb, most without shoes.

A few of them were beginning to dip into the concoction Mother Wattles was brewing and walking away with a cup full of the steaming potion. I moved out of the way to the side while Greg and Dave got in line to sample the brew. I backed up several feet in an attempt to detach myself from the goings on. This was getting way too creepy making me regret my decision to go along.

As I waited for them to get their sample of brew, I saw the most beautiful brown-skinned slender girl I had ever seen. Her simple beauty was stunning, in fact her appearance was borderline breathtaking. She stood motionless looking in my direction. Her long black hair touched her shoulders framing her face like an old masters work of art. Her delicate nose and thin lips were accentuated by an almost oriental slant to her dark brown eyes. Her light brown skin was smooth and supple as silk. When our eyes engaged, she let a wan smile overtake her face. I found her smile disarming and enchanting at the same time.

I was suddenly rammed in the rear end drawing me out of my trance and causing a girl-like screech to escape me. I spun around to see who hit me in the ass only to witness the damn goat standing there who let out a bleat as if to say ‘hi there’. Everyone in the immediate area began to laugh including Dave and Greg and I felt like crawling in a hole. And I probably would have if one was available.

“Screw you,” I said to the goat and started walking away.

 My face felt hotter than the embers in the fire and I was much too embarrassed to stick around. I made my way back to the picnic table to hopefully escape the scrutiny of the crowd. I sat down to silently observe from afar. I watched as Dave and Greg walked around drinking alternately rum and the concoction from the cauldron prepared by Mother Wattles.

The tempo and intensity of the bongos was beginning to crescendo as the gyrations of the dancers slowly surged and ebbed like a serpent in motion surrounding the fire. Some of the women were topless drawing the men’s attention while some of the men were showing erections through their clothing. A handful of people were leaping through the fire while some of them actually walked on glowing embers. It was almost painful to watch.

There was a constant line of people with empty cups filling them at the cast iron pot by the altar making me wonder what the allure of the contents could possibly be. Dave and Greg had filled their cups at least twice that I noticed. Everyone seemed to be getting into the thing except me. All I could think of was getting the hell out of there without getting into trouble.

For the next hour, things became almost surreal. A drunken or drugged mulatto woman with the top of her dress hanging from her waist was beginning to lurch and spasm out of control. One of the participants handed her a chicken, which she took by the legs and began to twirl above her head as she jerked about rolling her eyes and screeching in a high-pitched staccato voice, both arms swinging. The chicken was flapping and shrieking in berserker mode while the crowd surrounded her looking on. After a few moments, she paused briefly, accepted a butcher’s cleaver from a bystander and beheaded the chicken emitting a shrill, blood-curdling scream as she did. The crowd roared with their approval. She began to flail the beheaded chicken about as it beat its wings spurting blood over her and everyone nearby. A few moments later and she paused holding the chicken above her by its headless neck and feet then milked the blood from the chicken’s neck onto her exposed breasts. When she finished, she smeared the blood over her chest then began to dance in circles as she flung the headless chicken about, its wings still beating wildly. She kept it up for several minutes causing her sweat to commingle with the blood as the crowd jeered and taunted her on. They began to disperse as the woman slowly tired assuming a more moderate sway. Her exhibition was over for the most part; I was sure it was something I would never forget. It was burned indelibly in my mind.

As the crowd thinned, I saw Greg and Dave standing far enough away that the blood of the chicken more than likely spared them. Greg was hypnotized as he fixated on the woman’s crude display. He had a bulge in his pants that was more than obvious. Dave stood next to him mesmerized by the bizarre event he witnessed. When the crowd had dispersed for the most part, Greg and Dave went back to the altar to fill their cups. They finished the last bottle of rum while they waited their turn. Mother Wattles was seated behind the altar in a folding lawn chair as if she were presiding over the event.

As they neared the altar, Greg was behind Dave. He moved closer to him and started rubbing his crotch against Dave’s ass. It wasn’t an animated display but it was evident to anyone looking. I could see the white of Dave’s teeth as he turned his head to look at Greg. I watched Dave reach behind him with his hidden hand and massage Greg’s crotch. It made my heart sink. I felt noxious and sick having witnessed their brief and mutually satisfying exchange. It was disheartening.

I had to look away. The sight of it was gut wrenching and a lump began to form in my throat. I lowered my head onto my arms on the picnic table. I couldn’t watch. It was like a slap in the face. All my previous fears welled up raising their ugly heads again. Dave may as well have told me to get lost to my face because that’s essentially what his actions were saying. I wiped my eyes on my arms and looked up again. I knew they were glassy but no one was near so I tried to pretend as though nothing happened. I tried swallowing the lump in my throat but it felt like it was growing, as if I was going to choke on it. The tightness in my chest felt like someone was gripping and squeezing the life from my heart.

The crowd was beginning to dance around the fire again. There was a black couple off to the side dancing. They both held their arms straight up in the air as they pressed their bodies against each other. The sight of the whole thing was beginning to repulse me. This was some kind of sick ritual for demented souls with nothing better to do and here I was a part of it.

As I surveyed the area, I saw Greg and Dave dancing together next to two girls who were dancing as partners. They had removed their shirts and tucked them into their shorts. They would turn to the girls engaging them in suggestive dance then return to each other touching intimately and obviously enjoying the physical contact. It was sickening and putrid to watch. How could I have come this far to be with Dave only to have him do this? And to my face no less. Surely he knew I was there and aware of what was happening. Was this his way of giving me the brush? I lowered my head on my arms again looking to the side, I had seen enough. Why was Dave doing this and how did he think it would make me feel?

I blinked a couple tears away as I looked sideway into the black of the night. I wiped my eyes on my forearms, cleared my throat and resolved not to cry, at least not here and now. I would try to take it like a man not showing any emotion. It may hurt like hell on the inside but I’ll be damned if I’ll let anyone know it. And Dave? Fuck him and his asshole friend. In fact, they could fuck each other as far as I was concerned. I didn’t come this far to be treated like this. God this thing called life really sucks at times.

I straightened up gathering all the stamina I could muster to face the inevitable. Dave had as much as told me we were done. How could his actions mean anything but? Our time together was history before it ever got off the ground. I had better get used to the idea. He wanted to be with Greg, not me. It was a sobering thought.

I looked back to see them take a break from dancing as they sat under a huge Live Oak Tree. They were talking and smiling at each other when Dave ran his hand up and down Greg’s bare leg. He stopped letting his hand rest on Greg’s thigh. It was a crushing display and more than hurtful, it was devastating. It was another slap in the face.

 I turned away hurt and broken with the painful scenario in front of me, I wanted to cry and lash out. I wanted to appease the rage I was feeling. I was the victim, full of malice and vengeance looking for redress. How could I even the score?

I was having trouble maintaining my heightened state when I noticed the girl with the angelic look off to the side staring at me. I was shocked that she saw the emotion that overcame me. I wasn’t aware anyone was watching. She began to approach the picnic table where I was sitting. I wiped my eyes again and swallowed hard in an attempt to collect myself. She stopped next to the table and said,

“Do you mind if I sit down?”

“No not at all,” I said.

That was far from the truth. I wasn’t feeling very friendly at the moment and casual conversation seemed like an enormous effort. She smiled then lowered herself gracefully on the bench next to me. She folded her hands on the table gazing ahead saying,

“What’s your name?”

Oh how I wanted to get out of there. I wasn’t into girls and now I had to deal with this AND Dave. I was sure at that point; I was going to heaven because this is definitely purgatory or maybe even hell. Hell sounded more like it.

“I’m Val,” I said extending my hand but my heart wasn’t in it.

She took it and said, “I’m Genevieve, nice to meet you.”

She pronounced it: jshen vee ev saying it was a French name the same as her great-grandmother.

“Well, we both have weird names,” I said forcing a chuckle.

She smiled then a serious demeanor came over her, “You’ve been crying,” she said. “Is everything okay?”

“I’m okay,” I said as I looked at Dave and Greg again. I had to look away though; they were still sitting together under the tree. It was very unsettling not to mention heart breaking.

“Are those your friends over there?” She wanted to know.

“Where?” I said playing dumb.

“Over there under the tree. The ones you keep looking at.”

“Yeah, they’re the ones I came with anyway.”

I couldn’t help looking down at the table as the harsh reality of what was happening lodged itself squarely in my gut. It wasn’t easing up and likely wouldn’t for some time.

“I’ve never seen you here before. Is this your first St. John’s Eve?”

“Yes,” I confirmed. “That woman behind the altar kinda made me promise to attend.”

She looked at the altar as a big grin broke across her face, “That’s my mother,” she said proudly. “How did she kind of make you promise?”

I couldn’t help but smile. The thought of Mother Wattles having such a beautiful girl for a daughter was too humorous. How could such a strange or maybe weird…I wasn’t sure which…woman like Mother Wattles have a daughter like Genevieve? It was almost comical. It definitely diverted my attention from Dave and Greg. The evening was getting more bizarre all the time.

“You mean Mother Wattles is your for real mother?” I was grinning ear to ear. I couldn’t help it.

“Yes, what’s so funny about that?”

Now I was feeling bad that I was almost laughing or probably from her point of view, mocking her. It wasn’t my intent to be mean or condescending so I said,

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean anything by that. I never thought of Mother Wattles as being a real mother, that’s all.”

“Mother Wattles is her mambo name. Her real name is Cleopatra, Cleopatra Renaud, everyone calls her Cleo.”

“Oh,” was all I could manage for fear of laughing aloud. And I certainly didn’t want to do that, she was a nice person and I didn’t want to hurt her feelings even though mine felt like they were in a train wreck.

I was feeling completely exhausted from the events of the night and now this lovely girl was uplifting my spirits. It was too much. All I wanted was to go home to bed and hide from the world. It was a roller coaster of a night and I wanted off.

“Are you staying for the sacrifice?” She asked. “It won’t be long now.”

“What do you mean, sacrifice?” ‘Oh my God’ was all I could think. ‘A sacrifice? What next?’

I took my cell phone out of my pocket to check the time. It was a few minutes after eleven causing me to stiffen up knowing it was time to motivate. It was a good forty-minute drive home. The last thing I wanted to do was ride home with fucking Dave and Greg but there was no alternative. I couldn’t call Mike and Steve lest they find out I lied to them. That wasn’t an option.

“Well are you staying?” Genevieve asked again.

“Ah, no I have to get going. I’m supposed be home by midnight.”

Then curiosity got the better of me so I asked, “What’s the sacrifice all about?”

“Mom’s going to sacrifice the goat and offer it to Dumballah,” she said. “It’s the high point of the ceremony. You should stay.”

Then she put her hand on top of mine and squeezed gently. I let out a long sigh. I never had a night like this and hoped, as long as I lived, I never would again. I was on stimulus overload. I couldn’t react anymore to anything, I was numb. And now I was going to watch a goat get butchered? Heh, no way in hell and that’s exactly where I seemed to be at the moment so I stood up saying,

“It was nice to meet you but I have to get home or I’ll be in big trouble.”

“Will I see you again?” she wanted to know.

I didn’t want to see anyone again, especially Dave and Mother Wattles, along with her covey of freaks…sacrifices and all.

“I don’t think so,” I said. “But it was nice to meet you. I really do have to get home or I’ll be in big trouble.”

I offered her my hand and she accepted it rising to her feet.

“C’mon,” I said. “I’ll walk you back.”

As we started toward the crowd, she took my hand and intertwined her fingers with mine. I gave her hand a gentle squeeze and released it. I didn’t want her to get the wrong impression so I placed my hand on her back and bade her walk in front of me with the other one. There were too many people milling around and sitting on blankets to walk side by side. At least that much worked in my favor.

When we reached the fringe of people around the bonfire she turned and kissed me on the cheek then said, “Good night, it was nice to meet you.” Then she smiled before she reclaimed her position on a blanket.

“Good night,” was all I said. I didn’t want to encourage her.

I went off in the direction of the big tree where I last saw Dave and Greg. As I drew near, they were nowhere in sight. They must have moved in the short time I was distracted by Genevieve. I took a deep breath and exhaled placing my hands in my pockets. At that point, all I wanted to do was go home and forget about this horrible night of nights.

Not knowing where to find them, I began to meander through the crowd and around the people seated on blankets. A few minutes of walking and it was evident they weren’t among the crowd at large. I broadened my radius as I circled back around the epicenter of activity. There wasn’t a lot of places to get lost except near the water where a grove of large old trees stood. The moon had risen in the night sky enough so that it illuminated the landscape sufficiently making faint shadows.

It occurred to me to search the stand of trees near the water. As I neared the grove, the lake appeared silver reflecting the moonlight skyward. It made a dramatic silhouette of the majestic old trees draped with Spanish moss and the shimmering moonlight on gently lapping waves. I had to stop and marvel at the beauty of nature and the picture she painted for me. The effect was calming and serene as only Mother Nature can inspire.

A few moments longer and I noticed some movement at the trunk of one of the trees. It was the profile of two people closely knit together. I approached them diagonally in the outside chance it wasn’t Dave and Greg. As I closed the distance between us, it was looking more and more like the two of them. The shirts hanging from their shorts and the profile of two males were enough to erase any doubt. I stopped dead in my tracks and watched as my heart sank with the gut wrenching reality of what was before me.

They were going at it like two bitches in heat. They had each other’s equipment in hand pumping and probing the other’s mouth with such tenacity it could only be described as primal. It was sickening. I knew then I was the odd man out. The only thing I could feel was anger and resentment that I had given my affection so completely and had it returned with such indifference. How could I have been so blind?

At that moment, the crowd behind me sounded an almost deafening roar. It was sufficiently loud to make the two of them pause and look in my direction. I stood there confused and motionless as they slowly figured out who it was. Greg stood there rigid like an oaf in a stupor. He was standing dumbstruck with his hardness protruding through his fly, his mouth agape. Dave turned away as he stuffed himself back into his shorts and zipped his fly. I turned around to begin the walk to the car. I didn’t care if they followed or not. I would wait for them there until they were ready to leave. If that made me late then I would suffer the consequences. I didn’t care.

As hurtful as it was, I was too devastated to express any emotion. There would be plenty of time for that later. I wanted to go home and never see either one of them again, ever. I felt miserable for having thought there was a future for Dave and I, something like Mike and Steve had. How could I have been so naïve?

As I made my way toward the parking lot, I had never felt so alone in my life. Dave was the very reason I came to New Orleans and now it didn’t matter. I may as well have gone to Dallas or Los Angeles or anywhere other than here. I felt the urge to cry and repressed it although I had to blink some tears away. I cleared my throat and spat as I quickened my pace. I couldn’t get out of there fast enough.

I heard Dave call my name and holler for me to wait up but I kept on walking. I had nothing to say to him and the last thing I wanted was to be alone with him, the bastard. I could hear his footsteps in the grass as he ran to catch up. He stumbled and regained his footing as he fell in step at my side,

“Val, it’s nothing like your thinking. Don’t be mad.”

I raised the back of my hand to him looking away as if to say ‘save it’.

“Val,” he said then put an arm around my shoulder.

I flung it off and stepped up my pace, “Don’t touch me,” I said with conviction.

I could smell the liquor on his breath, which was probably the reason he was slurring his words too. I had no idea what effect the concoction they were drinking had and I really didn’t care.

“Where are you going?” he asked.

“To wait for asshole to drive us home, where is he anyway? Not that I really give a shit.”

Dave grabbed my arm pulling me to a stop and stepped in front of me, “Val we have to talk.”

I pulled my arm from his grasp shaking my head then began to walk again. I didn’t want to hear any pathetic explanation he had to offer. I had seen enough to know where I stood.

We walked the rest of the way in silence, Dave a few paces behind me. When we arrived at the car, I leaned against the back door with my arms folded. Dave sat on the trunk placing his feet on the bumper with his head in his arms spread over his knees. It looked like he might throw up making me wish he would do it on the car so Greg would, hopefully, get in trouble.

It wasn’t much longer when Greg came stumbling back to the car. His hair was messed and he looked filthy like he had been rolling around in the dirt.

“Will you drive?” he asked offering the keys to me.

I thought that was the smartest thing he said in the short while I had known him.

“Yeah,” I said grabbing the keys from him. “Get in, we’re going home.”

I was careful to obey the speed limits especially with the condition those two were in. All we needed was to get pulled over with two underage teens drunk on their ass. Greg was lying across the back seat while Dave reclined in the passenger seat and fell asleep or passed out. I wasn’t sure which and It didn’t much matter. He was out and that was the important part, I didn’t have to deal with him.

I took the ramp from the causeway leading to the freeway when a short distance later Greg sat up in the back seat. He moaned then lowered the window and stuck his head out. He proceeded to vomit for a minute or two pausing to gag between outward thrusts. I had to admit there was no compassion for him on my part. I reveled in his discomfort hoping he felt like the piece of shit that he was.

When he was satisfied that nothing was left inside, he eased back into the seat emitting an ‘aargh’. The sight of him was repulsive and now the stench of him was nauseating. The wind vortex caused puke to eddy in the air sticking to his face and hair. Dave was getting precisely what he deserved, what he bargained for. I hoped he’d be as happy as I was miserable. It wasn’t a sincere wish, it was one of loathing.

“Val, you can park the car in our garage and take the street car home if you want,” Greg said. “I’ll give you some money for the fare.”

I couldn’t believe my ears. He must be crazy. After all I had been through, he wanted me to take the streetcar home. He really is an asshole, a dumb asshole. After that comment, I was ready to park at the cop shop and turn him in. As infuriating as his words were, I was at a loss to respond. It was incomprehensible that anyone could or would suggest something so egocentric, so self-serving. The only thing that came to mind was ‘who the hell does he think he is’.

I took the off ramp for the Lower Garden District which is the same one that served their neighborhood. Instead of going to Greg’s house, I drove the car to Mike and Steve’s and pulled into the driveway. When the car stopped, Dave woke up and asked where we were. I told him then opened the driver’s door to get out saying,

“I hope you guys have enough sense to leave the car here tonight.”

“Wait Val,” he said.

I flipped him the bird as I lowered my feet to the pavement standing up.

“I’ll call you tomorrow,” he said sincerely.

“Don’t bother,” I said then shut the door.

I let myself in the gate and walked to the front door. I found the house key and inserted it in the lock. Before I went inside, I turned to have one last look at the two of them. I don’t know why I did because the sight was repugnant. As I closed the door behind me, I prayed to God it was the last time I would lay eyes on either one of them.

Inside, the house was dark and cool. Mike and Steve left a small decorative lamp on in the living room making it easier to find my way. I accidentally bumped the end table on my way to the sofa to lie down for a minute. I was on my back staring at the ceiling when I heard the toilet flush upstairs. The footsteps stopped at the top of the stairs,

“Is that you?” Mike said softly into the night.

“Yeah Mike, I just got home.”

I listened to him descend the stairs. He must have skipped the last two because his final step was a thud with no squeaky stair noise. It made me take note that he was aware of the squeaky steps too. He rounded the end of the sofa and stood over me like a sentinel.

“You’re drunk aren’t you?” he said accusingly.

“No Mike I swear, smell my breath. I haven’t had a drop and believe me I had plenty of opportunity.”

He bent over placing his face in mine saying, “Exhale.”

So I took a deep breath and let it go, proud that I stayed clean and sober in the face of temptation.

“Good boy,” he said as he straightened up. “Did you have a good time?”

I knew at that moment I had to tell the whole truth. I wanted to tell him. I wanted to come clean and be square with Mike and Steve. I didn’t want to experience the feeling that dogged me ever again, the one that made me feel low and lowly.

I sat up slowly saying, “No Mike, it was the worst night of my life,” I said profoundly. I paused for a moment placing my feet on the floor. It was a minute before I could compose my thoughts and Mike was logging my every movement and gesture. “The worst part is that I…I,” I was going to say lied but I couldn’t finish before the tears began to leak from my eyes. I raised my hands to my face in an attempt to hide them. I cried because I was a despicable liar. I cried because I lost the one person I loved and thought he loved me. I cried for the trust I had surely squandered. And finally, I cried because I couldn’t hold it in any longer. The hurt was gnawing at me like an ulcer preying on its host.

Mike sat down on the sofa next to me and pulled me to him with his big strong arms. He drew my head to his bare chest running his fingers through my hair as I silently sobbed and slobbered on him. I wrapped my arms around him and squeezed. He felt so good, so big and strong and comforting; exactly what I needed.

He kept his hand on the back of my head drawing me firmly to him, rocking us gently. He leaned over and kissed me on the top of my head saying, “It’s okay sport, let it out. Everything’s gonna be okay. You’re home now.”

“Mike,” I said then started blubbering again.

I hated myself for doing it but I couldn’t stop as much as I wanted to.

He rubbed my back reassuringly and said, “Whatever it is, it can’t be all that bad.”

He had no idea how bad it could be, how bad it was. After a few moments, he held me away from him and dried my eyes with the back of his hands.

“C’mon sport, it’s getting late. Let’s go to bed. We can talk about it in the morning.”

I was upset for sure but that sounded okay, too. I was physically and emotionally exhausted. Although the idea of being alone wasn’t intriguing, I had to rest. I was spent. So I said,

“Mike, can I sleep with you guys tonight?”

He put his arm around my shoulder as we headed for the stairs, “That wouldn’t be appropriate. Tell ya what, I’ll stay with you in your room until you fall asleep. Okay?”

“Okay Mike,” I said. “It’s better than nothing.”

He let a half-hearted chuckle out then pulled me to him. I put an arm around his waist resting my head on his shoulder as we scaled the stairs. In my room, Mike sat in an upholstered chair resting his feet on the ottoman. I handed him one of the pillows wanting more than ever to be held in his big strong arms. I undressed and slipped under the sheet. As I hugged the pillow, the last vision I had was of Dave and Greg getting it on in the park before sleep consumed me.

The next morning I lay on my back in bed studying my room. There was nothing unusual about it and nothing had changed. Everything was the same as it was the day before yet somehow it felt different. It was as if I was lying there on display in the middle of a coliseum being scrutinized by hundreds of spectators. It was a lonely feeling of exposure and solitude.

I forced myself out of bed and made my way to the bathroom. After a pee, I stared myself down in the mirror. Nothing new there so I went downstairs for a coffee. Mike left a note next to the coffee pot saying he would be home early and Steve was out of town on business. He also indicated the lawn was overdue for a mowing and he expected it to be done today. I sighed, no sympathy from Mr. Mike.

I was about to take my coffee on the deck when I heard my cell phone ringing upstairs. By the time I got there, the call went to voice mail. I checked the caller id to see it was Dave. I had no interest in anything he had to say so I put the phone in my pocket and took my coffee out on the deck.

I twirled the Sacred Monkey and Cock charm between my fingers as I sat there thinking about last night and everything that happened. I don’t know if it was the alcohol that made Dave do what he did or something more deep seated. Maybe there was always something between them and last night was the spark that ignited it. It really didn’t matter. I felt betrayed and abandoned by his actions. The fact that I loved him made the pang that much more hurtful. I couldn’t understand. He told me he loved me and I was sure I loved him. I thought we had something, an understanding.

I was beginning to coax myself into a bad place so I decided to get the laundry going and cut the grass. Dwelling on the subject wouldn’t change anything, in fact, probably make it worse. A couple of hours later and I was done with my chores, bored as hell with nothing to look forward to. I decided to shower and get out of the house for a while. I was hoping to occupy myself with something so I didn’t have to think about ‘the bastard’.

I took Steve’s bike from the garage and headed down the driveway turning left into the street. As I pedaled along, I realized I was going in the direction of Dave’s house. I got mad at myself for allowing my subconscious to misdirect me that way. I recalculated my path in the direction of work. I thought I would check on the progress to see if I was still expected back on the day I was told. It was early afternoon and I was sure the front door would be unlocked. There would probably be some stragglers from the lunch crowd still lingering in the dining room. I dismounted in front of the restaurant, chained Steve’s bike to a light post and went inside.

When I entered the reception area from the vestibule Roger, the manager, was talking to one of the waiters. He saw me and motioned with his index finger for me to wait. I walked forward and peeked into the dining room that I was assigned to. It was almost complete and looking very swank, not overdone, just tastefully elegant. Then I sat on a bench in the reception area to wait for Roger.

When he finished, he approached me saying, “Nice to see you Val. Would you like to come back early?”

“Ya, sure. That’s the reason I stopped by to see if I was supposed to be back at the same time.”

He smiled a little too friendly as he inspected me then said, “The new dining room has to be set up before we reopen it. We could use your help unpacking new equipment and furniture then placing it. Would you be interested?”

“Yeah, are you gonna pay me to do it?”

“Of course, then you’ll be invited to a party at my house after the other dining room is complete.”

“That’s nice but I’ll have to get permission from Mike before I can accept.”

“Mike who? And why do you need permission?”

“Mike Harris. He and Steve Brown are my guardians.”

I silently cursed myself forgetting I was supposed to be eighteen and not in need of a guardian. Damn it, these lies are complicating my life. Then it occurred to me; even at eighteen, most kids are still under adult care, maybe he would see it that way. I could only hope and pray that my revelation wouldn’t cause a problem.

“Mike has quite a reputation in the community. How do you know him?”

I wasn’t sure where Roger was going and not wanting to divulge any more information than I already had so I said, “I don’t mean to be rude but Mike said if anyone needed to know more to have them contact him directly. Please don’t be mad but that’s what he said, Roger.”

“No problem,” he said backing off. Then he placed a hand on my shoulder saying, “I’ve known Mike and Steve for years. I didn’t know you knew them,” he paused a moment before continuing. “Be here tomorrow at noon, then you and Rob can start setting up the new dining room.”

“I’ll be here,” I said rising to my feet. “I’m looking forward to it. I’m glad to get back to work,” I said giving him a wave goodbye.

As I pedaled in the direction of home, I was glad I dropped in. I could use the money and the diversion would be welcome. Rob and I got along good and liked each other too so it was nice to hear we would be working together. I was looking forward to it.

When I got home, Mike’s car was in the driveway. I put Steve’s bike away and went in the house. Mike was in the library sitting at the computer with classical music playing in the living room.

“Hi Mike,” I said as I plopped down on the sofa. “How’s it going?”

“Dave was over here looking for you,” he said with his eyes fixed on the screen. “He said he left you a message but you didn’t return his call. Did you guys have a fight?” he asked glancing my way for a reaction.

I began fidgeting with the hem on my shorts trying to avoid eye contact. I supposed now was as good a time as any to tell him what happened. He was going to get it out of me eventually, so I may as well volunteer the information. I couldn’t keep it bottled up inside forever either. And I wanted to be honest with him anyway, he deserved that much.

“Mike, I…I have something to tell you.”

He looked away from the computer screen drawing a bead on me, at least that’s what it felt like. I let out a nervous laugh trying to buy time and find the courage I needed to be honest with him. He eased himself back into the chair and said,

“Go ahead, I’m listening.”

I took a deep breath and proceeded to tell him every detail beginning with the trip to The Quarter. How we stopped into Mother Wattles shop, the way Greg coerced me into going to the St. John’s Eve ceremony. I told him how we conspired to lie so we could get permission to go. I described the scene with the chicken and the concoction Mother Wattles made at the ceremony. I told him about Dave and Greg drinking and me having to drive home.

I had to stop for a moment to compose myself before I could tell him about Dave and Greg. I had never related anything of a sexual nature to him so it seemed a little awkward. And having to relive the moment was causing me to get choked up so I swallowed hard.

“Is that it?” Mike asked. “You didn’t do any drugs or alcohol or drink the beverage what’s her name prepared?”

“No, there’s more Mike.”

I cleared my throat a couple times before I continued. I began to give him every little detail of the picture I had so vividly fixed in my mind. I had to stop a couple times to gather myself but I got through it without breaking down. It was a painful scenario to recall. My words resounded in my head as I spoke, burning them indelibly into memory. When I finished I looked up at Mike with glassy eyes for his reaction.

I think he sensed my fragile state because he didn’t say anything. He got up and came over to the sofa taking a seat next to me. He put his arm around me and said, “Everything’s going to be fine.”

He pulled my head against his chest as I blinked a couple tears away landing in his lap. My body hiccupped lightly as I let a sob escape me. I was embarrassed to cry in front of him but powerless to stop. Dave had driven a spike so hard and deep into me that the ache was oppressive. Then there was the concept of love, I thought he loved me. I was so sure of it. How could I have been so wrong? It was too much to handle so I let the silent tears flow for a few minutes. After a short while, I wanted to pull myself together so I eased away from him and said,

“I’m going to the bathroom to get a tissue,” then I stood up and left the room.

In the bathroom, I blew my nose and dried my eyes then stuffed a couple of dry tissues in my pocket. I cleared my throat twice then took a leak. I thought I was ready to face him again so I went back to the library, taking a seat in an upholstered chair facing Mike on the sofa. I gave him a half-hearted smile as I sat down.

“Well, you had quite an evening for yourself,” he said with more compassion than I expected. “I’m sorry for the way things turned out.”

“It was the worst night of my life, Mike,” I said looking at my lap and I wasn’t exaggerating. A few cuts and bruises are nothing compared to heartache and rejection, it doesn’t come close. I exhaled deeply trying to discharge some of the emotion I was feeling. I was sure I was scarred for life.

Mike rose and walked behind the chair where I was sitting. He began to massage my neck and shoulders which felt very good. I didn’t realize how tense and tight my neck muscles were. I rolled my head as he kneaded and plied me with his strong hands.

“That feels real good keep it up,” I said smiling, and then I made an ‘mmm’ sound.

“What are we going to do with you young man?” he said in a teasing tone of voice. “How do you get yourself into these situations?”

“By lying, Mike. I swear I’m never going to lie to you and Steve again. I’ll stake my life on it, Mike. I promise. You never have to worry. I learned my lesson. None of this would have happened if I told you the truth.”

“Yeah right,” was all Mike said, punctuated with a chuckle.

I guessed he recalled some of the escapades he pulled when he was young. He wasn’t the goody two shoes type so I assumed he had his fair share of adventure, too. The big difference here was that I had my heart ripped out. I wondered if he knew how that felt.

“C’mon sport,” Mike said patting my shoulder. “I’m treating dinner tonight at Le Coquille. Get yourself cleaned up and presentable.”

“Where is Le Coquille? Do I need long pants and a shirt?”

“It’s Mark and Jerry’s restaurant. We’re walking so we can have wine with the meal.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot the name of the place,” I said as I rose to my feet. “Do I get to have wine with the meal, too?”

To be continued...

I would like to acknowledge Wayne for his help in keeping me focused or on track, and Chris for his help in editing and proof-reading.

Posted: 10/23/09