Yeah, I know-a mermaid with flowing locks accented with pearls. The ship I grew up on had a mermaid carved into the bow-" "Neptune? They should be ashamed of themselves. Which Krewe is this? Ruelle squinted against the mist. Hey Lisette, you hungry? she asked.Īlways, I said, moving my heavy combat boots to cover up the pile of trinkets a few riders had tossed up to me before she could tease me about being childish. Ruelle stepped out onto the balcony with two forks in her fist and a plastic plate with a single slice of strawberry-cream-cheese king cake balanced in the crook of her arm. The creak of the door opening behind me turned my head. Why not pretend they were my family? Doesn’t every girl dream of a world where she could be related to royalty? The costumed strangers waving, the Krewe’s King and Queen by their matching gold robes, could be anyone. To the rest of the world, it was just another Tuesday, but in New Orleans, it was Mardi Gras. But at seventeen, I only imagined him-and all the pirate witches Ruelle claimed we came from-as I sat on the balcony outside my bedroom, watching parade floats decorated to resemble ships rolling through the dense February fog. As a child I wrote him letters, rolled them up and tucked them inside my mother’s empty liquor bottles. I didn’t know whether my father shared the same tight lips, because I didn’t know my father. I inherited the skill from my mother, Ruelle.
0 Comments
Leave a Reply. |