"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.
I do miss you.
God bless.
Love,
Ruby
I put the letter into an envelope and addressed it. The next morning, I mailed it on my way to school. The day wasn't much different from the one before, but I could see that as time went by, the excitement and interest other students had in me and what had occurred would wane. There was nothing as dead as old news. Not that those who had been friendly and interested in me started to be those things again. Oh, no. That would take much longer and only if I made a great effort. For the present, I was treated as if I were invisible.
I saw Beau a few times and every time, he looked at me, he had an expression of shame and regret on his face. I felt more sorry for him than he did for me and tried to avoid him as much as possible so things wouldn't be so hard for him. I knew there were girls and even boys who would rush home to tell their parents if Beau defiantly returned to my side. In a matter of hours, the phones at his house would ring off the hook and his parents would be enraged at him.
But on the way home from school that afternoon, I was surprised when Gisselle and Martin drove up to the curb and called to me. I paused and went over to Martin's car.
"What?" I asked.
"If you want, you can come with us," Gisselle offered, as if she were handing out charity. "Martin's got some good stuff and we're going over to his house. No one's home," she said. I could smell the aroma of the marijuana and knew that they had already started having their so-called good time.
"No, thanks," I said.
"I'm not going to invite you to do things if you keep saying no," Gisselle threatened. "And you'll never get back into the swing of things and have friends again."
"I'm tired and I want to begin my final term paper," I explained.
"What a drag," Gisselle moaned.
Martin puffed on his joint and smiled at me.
"Don't you want to laugh and cry again?" he asked. That set them both laughing and I pulled myself away from the window just as he accelerated and shot off, his tires squealing as he made the turn at the end of the block.