Anyway, I thought, it’s wishful thinking, all this talk of ghosts. If the dead wandered among us, their spirits still present on this earth, what need would we have for grief? Scary as it is, it’s what we hope for. How else can we go on living?
But Lexy shushed me when I began to voice my objections.
“It’s a sweet story,” she said. “And who are you to say it’s not true? Can’t you give yourself over, just once, to something that doesn’t make any logical sense?”
No, I thought. I can’t. Of course I can’t. But this was our vacation, and I wanted Lexy to be happy, so I kept the snide remarks to a minimum.
The first night, we went to the French Quarter. The reality of it was nothing like I’d imagined: there was none of the mystery, none of the dark magic I had expected. The streets were filled with loud music, with drunken frat boys flashing their penises, with girls lifting their shirts and showing their breasts for beads. The forced revelry of it was all wrong. I was too old for this.
“Let’s go back to the hotel,” I said.
“Oh, come on,” Lexy said. She was drinking a grain alcohol concoction she’d purchased from a walk-up window. It was in a plastic cup shaped like a hand grenade. “We just got here. It’s fun. Let’s make the best of it. Let’s go someplace and dance.”
“I don’t think so,” I said. “This really isn’t my kind of scene.”
“Well, of course it isn’t. That’s the point. Let’s do something a little out of character. Isn’t that why you brought me here?”
I wasn’t sure anymore why I’d brought her there. It was late, and I wanted to go to bed. In situations like this, I was always reminded that Lexy was eight years younger than I was. Or maybe age had nothing to do with it. Would I ever have liked being in a crowd like this?
“Don’t sulk,” she said. “Let me buy you a drink. You want the one that comes in the monkey’s head or the one that comes in the fake coconut?”
“Neither,” I said, making a face. “I had wine with dinner, and I don’t think I should mix.”
“Well, you’re not going to find wine here.”
“Let’s just go back,” I said. We’d stopped in the middle of the street, and people were pushing past us on all sides. I took Lexy’s arm and pulled her off to the side of the street. “There are parades tomorrow, and we have to get up early to get a good spot along the route.”
“I don’t believe you,” she said. “You whisk me away on this trip, which is, like, the most romantic thing you’ve ever done, and once we get here, you don’t want to have any fun.”
“I feel out of place with all these kids. What if I run into one of my students?”
“If you did, they’d think you were a lot cooler than they’d ever imagined.”
“Well, I’m going back to the hotel. Are you coming or not?”
“No,” she said. “I’m going to stay and have fun.”
“Fine,” I said. I felt irritated, and I was starting to get a headache. “Do you remember how to get back to the hotel?”
“Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She turned and walked away from me. I could tell she was annoyed with me, and as I started to make my way through the crowd, I was starting to wish I’d stayed. I almost decided to stay, but when I turned around to look for her, she was already out of sight.
By the time I reached the hotel, I felt terrible. Lexy was right—I’d brought her here to have fun, and then I refused to enjoy myself. I began to worry about her out in the crowds all by herself. What if something happened to her? Or what if she simply decided not to come back at all? Would I ever find her again in this city full of people?
By the time I heard her key turn in the lock an hour later, I was ready to fall at her feet and beg her forgiveness. But when she walked in, she looked flushed and excited. She didn’t look angry at all.
“Lexy,” I said, jumping up from the chair I’d been sitting in. “I’m so sorry. You were right. I was a jerk. I’m sorry I ruined everything.”
“That’s okay,” she said. “You were right. It wasn’t that much fun. It was kind of an obnoxious scene. I only stayed another fifteen minutes or so after you left.”
“Then how come it took you so long to get back?”
“Paul,” she said, her face lit with excitement. “I saw her. I saw Blue Mary.”
THIRTY-THREE
Lexy was convinced she’d seen Blue Mary. She told me that she’d come back to the hotel and had decided to walk through the open courtyard on her way back to our room. She was standing by the swimming pool, enjoying the cool night air, when she noticed a woman in a formal blue gown sitting on the edge of a deck chair with her face in her hands. She appeared to be crying. Lexy didn’t think anything of her elaborate, old-fashioned dress; after all, this was Mardi Gras, with masquerade balls every night. Lexy walked over and stood beside her.
“Are you okay?” she asked.
This is the kind of person my Lexy was—she would approach a crying stranger to see if she was all right.
The woman looked up, and Lexy could see that she was very pale.
“I can’t seem to find him,” she said to Lexy. “I don’t know where he went.”
As she spoke, she took Lexy’s hand in her own, and her touch was as cold as ice. It was then, Lexy said, that she understood whom she was speaking to.
“I’m sorry,” Lexy said. “Maybe it’s time to stop looking.”
At that, Lexy told me, the woman became furious. “Stop looking for him?” she said, her voice rising to a screech. “What have you done with him?” Her face grew ugly before Lexy’s eyes, and when she stood up, she seemed to tower over Lexy. “What have you done with him?” she said again.
“I haven’t done anything,” Lexy said.
“Well, where is he, then?” she roared.
Lexy stood straight and tall and looked her in the eye. “He’s gone,” she said. “You’re not going to find him now.”
The look on the woman’s face in the instant before she turned and ran away was one of horror and terrible, terrible pain. Lexy immediately regretted what she had said, and she reached out to take her arm. But the woman was already gone.
“What do you think?” Lexy said to me now as we sat on our hotel bed. “It was her, it had to be.”
“I don’t know,” I said, skeptical bastard that I always was. If Lexy could see me now, putting my faith in a talking dog! “It could have been some hotel guest coming back from a costume party, and you go and tell her her husband is gone.”
“If you could have felt how cold her hands were,” Lexy said.
“So she had cold hands. Some people always have cold hands. They have trouble regulating their body temperature.” God, would you listen to me?
“She disappeared, Paul. She vanished into thin air. Right in front of me.”
“Maybe you looked away for a minute and she ran away.”
“I didn’t look away.”
“Well, I don’t know, Lexy. But I don’t believe you saw a ghost.”
“Well, I know you don’t believe me,” she said, lying back on the bed. “But I know what I saw.”
Later that night, I awoke to find Lexy sobbing. “I’m so afraid,” she said. “I’m so afraid you’re going to die.” I held her to me until my chest was damp.
The next morning, while Lexy was still asleep, I woke early, dressed, and slipped out to go get beignets and coffee. When I returned with my bag of sweets, I found Lexy sitting on the couch in her nightgown, looking at the Blue Mary pamphlet. She looked so lovely sitting there in the morning light that my breath caught in my chest.