Kiss of Noir (3 page)

At dawn, I stretched, still dizzy with poison. I brushed my teeth, squirted drops in my red eyes, showered, and ate my last six eggs. I packed, not really caring what I kept. My future beckoned; I could buy new things. I made the calls that ended my life in Los Angeles. And then I started to drive.

When I reached New Orleans, I didn’t know whether I was anxious or excited but I knew another taste would help. Following the directions Ellis had given me, I grew more and more antsy and therefore sipped more and more frequently until I didn’t even bother to put the cap back on my bottle of gin. And instead of returning it to my backpack, which rested on the passenger seat, I just let the gin ride, open-mouthed, nestled in my crotch.

I drank a large swallow as I passed through New Orleans and continued south.

“A toast to the Big Easy.” I held up the jewel-green bottle to the rearview.

Suburbs thinned and gave way to wet wilderness. My skin prickled as I spied turtles and large birds sunning themselves on fallen trees half submerged in murky swamps. Trees pressed in on me from both sides and Spanish moss dripped from their branches and swayed in the breeze as if confirming that this place was haunted. The wilderness was alien and spooky. It was as if I were seven years old and passing through a monster’s territory and that monster was holding its breath, about to attack.

My windshield was already filthy, dotted with hundreds of insects that had accumulated only since crossing the state line and multiplied the farther south I traveled. So when a large bug splatted right in from of my face, I jumped and gasped, swerving the car a little. The spray of window cleaner was comforting, as if it could wash away my sudden, irrational fear of the swamps. I swigged more gin.

“I’m comin’, Hambone, I’m comin’!” I cried, giggling. I punched on the radio but couldn’t find any sound that didn’t jar me further. I snapped it off.

Gradually, homes appeared, then neighborhoods, and then the neighborhoods expanded and merged. I pulled over to study Ellis’s directions. I noticed my hands were shaking. “Might as well have a little drink. Calm me down,” I muttered.

I continued driving. I was going to a wealthier neighborhood where the homes were very old and very large. The trees got thicker and bigger, the streets wider, the houses farther apart and farther from the street. I pulled into a long driveway, gaping. I sped around to the rear of the house where the three-car garage was. Suddenly, a squirrel ran across the drive and I cried out and swerved to miss it.

Doing so, I crashed into the stone wall that surrounded Ellis’s back property. I was too loose and relaxed to be hurt and too nervous about being here to be upset about my old workhorse Wagoneer. I whipped my head around to see the squirrel safely mounting a neighbor’s bird feeder. I sighed with relief. I opened the driver’s door with difficulty and left it open as I stumbled toward the back door.

“I’m here!” I called giddily, waving the gin bottle. “I’m here, y’all! Ha, ha, I’m here!” I fell into a laughing fit.

The back door blew open. Ellis and a woman came out running. “What the hell?” Ellis roared. Then he fell on me with a big laugh. “You made it, T-Bone! So good to finally see you again!” We hugged tightly. I was moved by unexpected emotion and refused to release either Ellis or my bottle until I was ready.

“C’mon, c’mon, T, it’s okay.” Ellis patted my back and eased me out of the hug.

“Family jus’ look so good to me now,” I slurred. “Oh, Ellis, I’m sorry it has been so long.”

Ellis nodded and waved me away.

“I meant to visit more…oh, you are so grown up!” I embraced him again.

“It’s all right, Nora. You’re here now. It’s all right,” Ellis said. The woman watched us, glaring.

I stepped back and started to take another drink. The woman jerked the bottle out of my hands. “Here, honey, let me take that,” she snapped.

I straightened up and threw back my shoulders. “And who is this ripe, luscious peach?” I licked my lips and tried to look cowboy.

In response, the woman poured my gin onto the driveway.

“Uh…Nora, this is my wife, Sayan,” Ellis stammered. Sayan’s eyes were smoking, her lips poked out, and I was flirty, wanting to appease her.

“Your wife! Your wife! I remember you got married a while back. Oh, Ham, you did good!” I grinned and swooped Sayan into a bear hug, lifting her off the ground and swinging her in circles. The gin bottle flew out of Sayan’s grip and exploded on the driveway.

“Put me down, you crazy heathen! Oh, Lord, you put me down
right now
!” Sayan yelled.

I let her go and stood expectantly, waiting for the warmth and welcome to come pouring out.

“Now you listen and you listen good.” Sayan stuck her finger in my face. “Ellis told me about your situation and why you need to stay with us. But I don’t want you here, do you understand?”

“Sayan,” Ellis said.

“Just a minute, Ellis, some things need to be said,” Sayan retorted.

“Yeah, Ellis, why don’t you go on inside?” I said, feeling suddenly sober. “Sayan and I have business.”

“Well, I don’t know…” Ellis said, looking from one to the other of us.

“Go on, do what she says,” Sayan said. “Pour us some iced tea.” Deflated, Ellis slunk into the house.

“All right, what’s your problem with me, sister?”

Sayan rolled her eyes. “I have six sisters and ain’t a one of them
you.
My problem with you is you’re a nasty freak, for one.”

“Hold on!”  I said.

Sayan’s eyes flashed red. “I
know
you do
not
want to interrupt me,
do you
?”

I shook my head, glancing wistfully at my broken gin bottle. “No, ma’am.”

“Humph,” Sayan replied, slightly mollified. “Number two, I don’t know what kind of influence you’ll be around here and I need to protect my family.”

“Protect!” I choked. “I
am
family!”

Sayan’s head swayed like a cobra. “Now, what did I tell you about that?”

I dropped my eyes. “Yes, ma’am.”

“You come down here with your sorry drunk ass, tearing up my house, looking for a handout and you’re a grown woman! You too old to be acting a fool! You’re gonna be somebody’s auntie, you know that?”

“Ellis gonna be a daddy?” I whooped, darting a gaze cautiously at Sayan’s middle, hoping not to be slapped for it.

“Yes, he sure is,” Sayan answered, grinning and stroking her abdomen. “I’m only a month along, but he or she is in there.”

“Oh, my, oh, my…Ellis, Ellis, Ellis. Old Hambone a father.” I smiled.

“Yes, at last. We’re settled and the time is right. We’re finally making our family and I don’t need your raggedy ole self messing things up and bringing trash into my house.”

“But I won’t—”

Sayan grabbed my jaw and shook it. “You and me need to get some things straight right here and now before you set one dirty foot in that door.”

I pried Sayan’s hand off and waited.

“First, you gonna work and you gonna work all day, every day. You’re gonna keep yourself clean, and by clean, I mean you shower, use deodorant, brush your teeth, and gargle every day. And you wear clean clothes. I ain’t gonna have no funk making me sick. You’re gonna wash your own clothes. You can go to a Laundromat or do them here, but if you do them here, you follow my rules and you stay out of my way. I don’t want you tearing up my new Neptune or leaving your ratty clothes to mold in there. You keep your room and your bathroom clean. I am damn sure not picking up after you or scrubbing your toilet and I expect it to stay clean. I am not your mama. She don’t live here and I pray she raised you right. I will check it every week. All clear so far?” Sayan crossed her arms and threw one hip sideways.

I was too stunned to be offended and too dependent on Ellis right now to object, so I nodded meekly.

“Next, you will quit all this drinking if I have to lock you up or drive you to AA
myself.
And you know how mad I’d be if I had to do that. So you take yourself in hand. Use your time here to get yourself together, and that means no drinking.”

“Ever?”

“Never. Not one drop. If you’re still here when the baby comes, you can have carbonated grape juice to celebrate with us.”

I threw up my hands.

“Then you better get back in that truck and keep on going,” Sayan stated.

I looked at my wrecked car, still kissing the stone wall. I had nowhere to go. My shoulders drooped. I looked at Sayan and nodded.

“And you will help me around the house. I was not put on this earth to clean after any laid-up lowlife. You will help just like Ellis helps: washing dishes, vacuuming, and taking out the trash.” Sayan held up her hand to forestall all arguments. “I have maid service but that don’t excuse nothing. This is not a vacation and you should be responsible for yourself and your messes.”

Miserable and full of regret, I gazed at the back door where I saw Ellis grinning at me. I smothered a matching smile and focused on Sayan.

“Furthermore, you will not smoke in my house. Never. And I have a nose like a hound. And if I even
suspect
you got reefer up in here, I will put you out. I am not playing. So if you have to smoke cigarettes, you do it outside and you’ll pick up your butts. If I find
one
butt…what?”

I was feeling exhausted, overruled, tipsy, and giddy, and I got an irrational attack of giggles. I couldn’t stop myself. I tried to swallow my laughter but I belched instead. “’Scuse me, ma’am.” I moaned as laughter overtook me. I bent over and leaned my hands on my knees. I noticed Ellis had disappeared from the door. Sayan barking the word “butt” kept echoing in my mind.
If I find
one
butt; if I find
one
butt
, the unfunny nature of it became terribly funny.

Sayan’s stone goddess face broke apart. Peals of laughter rang from her mouth. I was barely able to straighten but I patted Sayan’s back and shook my head, wiping my eyes.

Sayan’s eyes closed as she surrendered and laughed. Our voices mixed well like harmony and melody. Sayan leaned a little on me.

When at last we began to catch our breath, hiccupping a few more giggles, I embraced Sayan. I held her tenderly. I whispered in her ear, “Listen, Sayan, I’ll be good, okay? Trust me. I respect you and all I ask in return is respect. I’m grateful to you for letting me stay here when I need it so bad. Let’s try to be friends, all right?” I released her.

Sayan looked as if she might cry. I said just the right thing. Sayan nodded. “Ellis loves you so much. Welcome to our home. I am glad you’re here.” She stepped away, composed herself, and threw back her shoulders. “Don’t make me regret it. We can talk about church another time.”

“Oh, Lord.” I rolled my eyes.

We walked to the house together, me frisking like a puppy. Ellis opened the door for us, his eyes round and his mouth open with amazement. “Nora?” he said.

I punched him on the arm. “It’s all good, Ham. We worked it out.”

“Except churchgoing and finding a man,” Sayan added.

“We worked it
all out
,” I stated. “What you got good to eat?”

After a quick meal of leftover étouffée and okra and tomatoes, Ellis cleaned up the kitchen while Sayan showed me around the house. She pointed out the custom-made wool rugs, the prints and paintings on every wall, the vases never to touch, the chandeliers that needed constant dusting, the walls covered in silk damask, the draperies of heavy velvet that closed out the harsh Louisiana sun, the antique chairs, tables, armoires, bookshelves, and cabinets in every room, and how I was to behave around each.

“Don’t sit in that chair; that’s a ladies’ chair from the eighteenth century and it is fragile. See how it’s low to the ground for a woman’s smaller frame?” Sayan eyed it with love.

“Why don’t you put velvet rope barriers around everything?” I asked.

Sayan pursed her lips and looked me up and down. “I may have to.”

“This place is like a museum,” I said, feeling oppressed by the formal, European atmosphere.

“I know, isn’t it beautiful?” Sayan crowed. She ran her hand along an intricately carved side table of burled oak that shone like a mirror.

“Where did you get all this junk?” I asked, not wanting to touch any of it. I hadn’t known what to expect of Ellis’s house, but had hoped for a squashy leather recliner, a big stereo, and a bigger television with remotes for everything, including the lights and the ceiling fan. I had pictured myself snoozing and drooling, if not in Ellis’s big daddy recliner, then on a soft, fat sectional while wrapped in a snuggly blanket, the game blaring on television, my hand still in a bag of Cheetos. This furniture was too formal, too spindly, too old, too rich, and too
white
. It looked stiff and uncomfortable. Where was I going to
live
while I was here?

“We got it from Ellis’s auctions, of course,” Sayan replied, fluffing a brocade pillow.

“Ellis’s auctions?”

“Yes, you know, his annual dinner dance sales. Every September he rents a ballroom in New Orleans and has a black-tie dinner and a band and he auctions the best of what he bought the previous year. A lot of families use him for their estate sales. So he gets entire homes full of lovely things.”