April Witch - REVIEW THIS STORY

Written by Stella
Last updated: 01/02/2007 02:01:11 AM

Chapter 3

“Heard y’ were back in town, but I wanted t’ see myself.” Wit’out asking, Belladonna scraped a chair back from de café table an’ dropped into it. We were adrift at dat dead hour o’ night when even Nawlins stretches out t’ sleep. De Café du Monde was tucked into a corner of Jackson Square. I could look out t’ de river, see de lights reflected oily off de black water, hear de metallic thrum of locusts in de trees.

“Here I am,” I said, wit’out looking up. Rolled my wrist for a little flourish, but ruined de effect by not meeting her eye. Could smell her perfume, even from across de table in de café where de scent o’ chicory coffee was everywhere. Freesia.

“You’re in a Schwegmann’s bag (a lot) o’ trouble now, Remy. Julien knows you’re here.” Felt rather dan saw her rest her elbows on de table and lean into me. Waiter came by and Bella ordered coffee. I stirred my own coffee hard until some of it slopped onto de table.

“Dat peeshwank (runt) know what’s good for him an’ he’ll stay away from me dis time.” Still hadn’t looked at her.

“Y’ been home yet?” she asked, gentle.

“Non. Jus’ sittin’ here tryin’ t’ t’ink of what t’ say.” Corner of my mouth twisted grimly at dat, remembered my cocky advice t’ Rogue--don’t t’ink ‘bout de story before you tell it.

“To Jean-Luc?”

“Yeah. Burned my bridges pretty good de last time.” He assumed dat de restless spirit was a side-effect of youth, dat I could rein myself in so Henri an’ me could take over de Guild someday.

“Thought that Jean-Luc was de one that called you back. Am I wrong?”

Shook my head. “Dat wasn’t for himself, just for Etienne.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure. He was pretty torn up when you disappeared. Wouldn’t talk ‘bout it, naturally. Guess de tete dure (hard head) runs in de family.”

I frowned. “Not wit’ Henri. He always knows de right t’ing t’ do, even if he doesn’t do it.”

Bella sighed. “What’s wrong, Remy?” She touched my hand and I tried not t’ flinch away. She felt me jump and drew back herself.

“Lots o’ t’ings,” I mumbled, but she didn’t hear, just assumed I was being stubborn.

“You don’t have t’ tell me, but I just thought...well...nothing I guess.”

Steeled myself t’ look up. Wasn’t dat I was afraid t’ see her. Didn’t t’ink Rogue was so fleeting in my mind, but I was afraid dat I’d look at her and she’d know everyt’ing before I could talk. She was de same girl I’d come up wit’. I could look at her and see both of our pasts together. Time was I’d confused dat shared past for a future together. At least I had Magneto t’ thank for dat much. He’d kept me outta de church.

She took a deep breath. “Don’t worry ‘bout me none, Remy. You an’ me, we don’t make sense like lovers, only like friends. Knew that even before you left. Julien didn’t understand an’ I’m afraid he still doesn’t.” Bella ran a nervous hand t’rough her blonde hair.

“And does dat bother you?”

“Of course it does!” she burst out angrily. “Y’ t’ink I don’t know what everyone says ‘bout my brother? Sometimes I t’ink I’m just maudit (cursed).” She laughed wit’ a hysterical edge. “I can’t even have a boyfriend like a regular person because he t’inks that everyone’s his rival. Sometimes he frightens me. ‘m not sure if I can get out o’ dis family alive.”

Dat got my attention. “Why don’t you just run away den? Don’t tell anyone. I could help...”

Bella shook her head sadly. “It’s family.” She shrugged. “But there’s a reason you’re here, right?”

Mimicked her shrug from de moment before. “It’s family.”

If dere’s one good t’ing in de entire Quarter, dat must be Mattie Baptiste. She was in de kitchen when I got back from de café in de early morning. For a minute, I was happy t’ watch her arms move in even strokes, kneading bread. Kitchen was warm wit’ de heat from de oven. De kitchen was my favorite place in de house. Always seemed like de place t’ go if I pissed somebody off good and dey were comin’ after me. Mattie never gave me away. She let me stay for hours, watching as she threw pinches o’ t’ings into pots, not because Jean-Luc asked her to or because she was our hired help, but because she said everyt’ing came clear when she stood at de pots. Who was I t’ argue wit’ her dirty rice?

“Ya gonna stand dere all day, or ya gonna say hello t’ your Tante Mattie,” she said, wit’out turning ‘round.

“T’ought I was bein’ quiet for a change,” I said, rueful.

“Not so quiet I don’ know ya here, boy. Ya stuck ‘tween old pain an’ new problems, neh?”

“Y’ always did have a way wit’ words, Mattie.” She kept kneading, smooth, even strokes. Half-wished dat she’d take me in hand an’ smooth out my rough places too.

“Stay ‘round dis house long ‘nough an’ everyone starts talkin’ in platitudes.”

“I don’t know what t’ say t’ him, Mattie,” I whispered, afraid dat she wouldn’t hear me. Afraid dat she would.

Methodically, Mattie finished up her kneading, wiped her hands on de dishtowel, turned and threw her arms ‘round my neck. For a moment it was awkward, but den I found a way t’ tuck myself into her body. Leaning into her strength, it was like mine was gone. Felt empty, dizzy. Mattie smelled like de bread she was baking. She was warm.

“Y’ want t’ tell me all ‘bout it.” Wasn’t a question. She sat me down at de table. She touched my tattoo. Was like magic. A cunja (spell). Told her everyt’ing, starting at de beginning and working outwards. De story spilled outta me and I couldn’t have stopped it even if I’d wanted to.