But two days later, I regretted it.


19

  Fate Keeps On Happening

The following morning I felt like a shadow of myself. With a heart that had a hollow thump, with legs that seemed to glide over the hallways and down the stairs, I went to breakfast. Martin came to take Gisselle to school, but she didn't ask me and I didn't want to go along with them. Beau had to go to school with his parents so I just walked to school, resembling someone in a trance—face forward, eyes moving neither left nor right.

When I arrived at school, I felt like a pariah. Even Mookie was afraid to associate with me and didn't, as usual, meet me at the locker before homeroom to chatter about homework or television shows. I was the victim in all this, the one who had been horribly embarrassed, but no one seemed to feel sorry for me. It was almost as if I had contracted some terrible, infectious disease and instead of people worrying about me, they were worried about themselves.

Later in the day, I ran into Beau rushing down the corridor to class. He and his parents had had their meeting with Dr. Storm.

"I'm on probation," he told me with a frown. "If I do anything else, break the slightest school rule, be suspended and kicked off the baseball team."

"I'm sorry, Beau. I didn't mean for you to do something and get yourself in trouble."

"That's all right. I hated what they did to you," he said, and then he looked down and I knew what was coming. "I had to promise my parents I wouldn't see you for a while. But that's a promise I don't intend to keep," he added, his beautiful blue eyes blazing with defiance and anger.

"No, Beau. Do what they say. You'll only get yourself into more trouble and I'll be blamed for it. Let some time pass."

"It's not fair," he complained.

"What's fair and what isn't doesn't seem to matter, especially where rich Creole reputations are concerned," I told him bitterly. He nodded. The warning bell for the next period sounded.

"I'd better not be late for class," he said.

"Me neither." I started away.

"I'll call you," he cried, but I didn't turn back. I didn't want him to see the tears that had clouded my eyes. I choked them back, took a deep breath, and went on to my next class. In all my classes, I sat quietly, took notes, and answered questions only when I was asked directly. When the period ended and the class was dismissed, I always left the room alone, holding back until most of the students had gone.

The worst time was lunch. No one was eager to sit with me and when I took a seat at a table, the students who were already sitting there moved to another table. Beau sat with his baseball teammates and Gisselle sat with her usual friends. I knew everyone was looking at me, but I didn't return their glances and stares.

Mookie finally had enough nerve to speak to me, but I wished she hadn't, for she brought only bad news.

"Everyone thinks you deliberately did a striptease. Is it true you're good friends with a prostitute?" she asked quickly. A hot rush of blood heated my face.

"First, I didn't do any striptease, and no, I am not good friends with a prostitute. The girls and boys who pulled this horrible prank on me are just spreading stories to try to cover up their own guilt, Mookie. I thought you, of all people, would see that," I snapped.

"Oh, I believe you," she said. "But everyone's talking about you and when I tried to tell my mother you weren't as bad as people were saying, she got furious with me and forbid me to be friends with you. I'm sorry," she added. What she said to me made me stiffen.

"So am I," I replied, and gobbled down the rest of my lunch so I could leave quickly.

At the end of the school day, I went to see Mr. Saxon, the dramatics instructor, and told him I was resigning from the school play. It was obvious from the look on his face that he had heard all about the episode with the photograph.

"That's really not necessary, Ruby," he said, but he looked relieved that I had come forward with the idea. I could tell he had already anticipated my bringing an unwelcome notoriety to the cast which would take away from the performances. People would come just out of curiosity to see the wicked little Cajun girl.

"But if your mind is made up, I do appreciate your doing this before it gets to be too late for me to replace you," he added.

Without saying another thing, I dropped the script on his desk and left to walk home.

Daddy didn't come to dinner that evening. When I came down I found Gisselle and Daphne sitting alone. With her eyes fixed angrily on me, Daphne quickly explained that he had fallen into one of his fits of melancholia.

"The combination of some unfortunate business ventures with the disastrous recent events have pushed him into a deep depression," she continued.

I gazed at Gisselle who continued eating as if she had heard this a hundred times before.

"Shouldn't we call a doctor, get him some medicine?" I asked.

"There is no medicine except filling his life with cheerful news," she replied pointedly. Gisselle jerked her head up. "I got a ninety on a history test yesterday," she boasted.

"That's very nice, dear. I'll be sure to tell him," Daphne said.

I wanted to say that I had gotten a ninety-five on the same test, but I was sure Gisselle, and maybe even Daphne, would interpret it as my attempt to belittle Gisselle's accomplishment, so I remained silent.

Later that evening, Gisselle stopped by my room. As far as I could tell, even though poor Daddy was quite distraught over all that had occurred, she was completely without guilt or regrets. I had the urge to scream at her and see her poise collapse! I wanted her smiles to peel off like bark from a tree, but I remained silent, afraid of only causing more trouble.

"Deborah Tallant is having a party this weekend," she announced. "I'm going with Martin, and Beau's coming along with us," she added with sadistic pleasure. She looked like she was really enjoying pouring salt on my wounds. "I know he regrets giving me up so quickly now, but I'm not going to make things easy for him. I'm going to let him turn and turn out there like a ball on a string. You know how," she said with an oily, evil smile. "I'll kiss Martin passionately right in front of him, dance so closely with Martin that we look attached . . . that sort of thing."

"Why are you so cruel?" I asked her.

"I'm not so cruel. He deserves it. Anyway, I wish I could take you to the party, but I had to specifically promise Deborah I wouldn't. Her parents wouldn't like it," she said.

"I wouldn't go if she invited me," I replied. A cynical smile twisted her lips.

"Oh, yes you would," she said, laughing. "Yes, you would."

She left me, infuriated. I sat there steaming for a while and then felt myself calm down to a quiet indifference. I lay back in my bed reminiscing and finding some comfort in my beautiful memories living with Grandmère Catherine in the bayou. Paul came to mind and I suddenly felt terrible about the way I had left without saying good-bye to him, even though at the time, it seemed to be the best thing to do.

I sat up quickly and ripped a sheet of paper out of my notebook. Then I went to my desk and began writing him a letter. As I wrote, the tears filled my eyes and my heart contracted into a tight lead fist in my chest.

Dear Paul,

It has been some time now since I left the bayou, but you haven't been out of my thoughts. First, I want to apologize for leaving without saying good-bye to you. The reason why I didn't is simple—it would have been too painful for me, and I was afraid, too painful for you. I'm sure you were just as confused and disturbed about the events that occurred in our pasts as I was, and probably, you were just as angry about it. But fate is something we cannot change. It would be easier to hold back the tide.

Even so, I imagine you've spent a lot of time wondering why I just upped and left the bayou. The immediate reason was Grandpère Jack was arranging my marriage to Buster Trahaw and you know I'd rather be dead than married to him. But there were deeper, even more important reasons, the most important one being that I found out who my real father was and decided to do what Grandmère Catherine had asked as a dying wish—go to him and start a new life.

I have. I now live in an entirely different world in New Orleans. We're rich; we live in a grand house with maids and cooks and butlers. My father is very nice and very concerned about me. One of the first things he did when he discovered my artistic talent was to create a studio for me and hire a college art teacher to give me private lessons. However, the biggest surprise for you to learn is that I have a twin sister!

I wish I could tell you that all is wonderful, that being rich and having so many beautiful things has made my life better. But it hasn't.

My father's life has not been smooth either. The tragedies that befell his younger brother and some of the other things that happened to him have made him a deeply disturbed and sad man. I was hoping that I could change things for him and bring him enough happiness to cure his depression and sadness, but I haven't been successful yet and now I am not sure I can ever be.

In fact, at this very moment I wish I could return to the bayou, return to the time before you and I learned all the terrible things about our own pasts, return to the time before Grandmère Catherine died. But I can't. For better or for worse, as I said, this is my fate and I must learn how to deal with it.

Right now, all I want to do is ask you to forgive me for leaving without saying good-bye, and ask you when you have a chance, in a quiet moment, either in or out of church, to say a little prayer for me.