“Willow…” Her name came out of my mouth like something amazed, something broken in two, as though the disbelief I felt was a pathetic thread that loosened every second she spoke. I’d heard that phrase before, somewhere in a dream. It was tucked away with Sookie and Dempsey and the promises they wanted to keep. I could relate. Looking at Willow, seeing how glassy her eyes had become, right then I knew exactly how Sookie had felt when Dempsey kissed her. But how could Willow know? That phrase, those dreams, there was no way she’d heard that from the nights the dreams were too much. There was no way she had the same dreams.
“Will,” I said again, stepping closer to her. She moved back and it felt like punch in my gut. “Please don’t be upset.”
“How can I not be upset you don’t… wait.” She moved her chin, tilting her face toward me as though something had just occurred to her. “You talked about genetics and DNA… Nash, what do you believe?”
She held her breath, like whatever my answer, she was prepared for it destroying her.
“Willow—”
“Please,” she stepped back, breathing in through her nose. “Tell me what you believe.”
I’d had the argument a half a dozen times with everyone, even Roan. He didn’t believe in the supernatural or an afterlife, at least I was sure he didn’t. Roan had always told me to make decisions on what I saw. The things I could prove.
“I believe in science, Will. I believe things that can be proven, things that are bolstered with evidence. I believe in the things I can see, the things that are right in front of my face, not in things that ride on feelings and hunches and wishful thinking.”
For a long while she only watched me. I read her expressions and the thoughts that seemed to move around her face as she kept quiet, sorting through whatever it was that kept her attention inside her head. Finally, tears began to collect in her lashes and I stood away from the window reaching for her. “Will…”
“I can’t… Nash, I believe in everything. I have to. This life, it can’t be all there is. It’s just not that cut and dry. I’ve seen things, felt things that you wouldn’t believe. My belief, it’s important and I can’t just… If life can only be narrowed down to facts and evidence and something you can point to and say, ‘there it is’, then what I feel in my bones is a lie. And it can’t be a lie. It can’t be.”
Disappointment choked me as tears spilled down her cheeks, as she shook her head like she couldn’t believe me, as if I had erased her.
“This doesn’t have to be a deal-breaker, Willow. It’s just silly—”
“No,” she said, voice high, shrill. “Whatever else it is, it’s not silly. Not what I believe and I could never…” The room had gone still. Only the sound of our breathing and the rustle of the sheet sounded as she moved away from me, picking up her clothes that had been discarded around the room. “I can’t be with someone that doesn’t have any faith, Nash. I can’t be with someone whose life is so damned narrow.”
I wanted to stop her. Something old and angry inside me burned in my stomach, knotted hard as she dropped the sheet and tugged on her clothes. Even as she reached for me, kissed my cheek, I wanted to pull her close, do away with the work she’d made covering herself up again. But Willow was too determined, too sure, too angry, and I could only watch her as she walked away, wondering what faith had taught her to slam the door on something she wanted. Worse yet, I wondered what logic told me the same thing.
Nineteen
Nash
Everything felt old and empty. Stale, like a hangover.
It was nearly four a.m. and Willow was everywhere and nowhere at all. My bed still felt warm where she’d been. My body cooled, starting to go numb every spot where she’d kissed me.
The streetlight outside was yellow, a dreary color that reminded me of a rainstorm, of sickness. I hated the dim light it shot through my room, between the slip of the window from my partially open curtains. The pillow on the other side of the bed held three long strands of hair, Willow’s hair, and I grabbed the thing, tucked it under my chin, just to catch that jasmine scent; just to remind myself she’d been there.
Only then did I sleep.
New Orleans
There were things that weren’t done in the city. Not by folk like me. Not when there were so many eyes looking this way and that, waiting to see what we’d do and who we’d do it to. There was nothing for it, just the way of our world. Some bad men liked to keep us under their thumbs. They liked to remind us all that our kin had been owned by theirs not all that long ago. They liked to tell us how we were nothing, how our kids wouldn’t be nothing, just because they were small, stupid people with no notion of good sense. They were mean because it was in their nature. It was how they’d been reared and how they’d die. God help us, they were raising little ones to be just like them.
When there are eyes looking, judging, you need to be smart about the company you keep. Back on the farm was one thing; there was no nosey spying because the company we kept told the town straight where they’d be. But here in the city, where illegal liquor and cheap dope came easy as dying, boredom led to the devil’s business and damn us all, business was good.
Some things just weren’t done. They weren’t fittin’ at all. Like Sylv nosing around the Chambers cottage at all hours of the night because Lily let him put his hand inside her shirt. Or the way Ripper Dean took any girls with half a decent smile right off the street without anyone’s bye or leave. Sad fact was, ole Ripper didn’t care if that was fittin’ or not. Or, the thing that made those staring eyes widen and those fat running mouths go off a mile a minute, when Dempsey Simoneaux, a white Cajun boy whose daddy had a special hatred for black folks, brought me, the light-skinned daughter of a woman who sold illegal hooch, a bunch of white and yellow roses he picked right from his mama’s prize-winning garden.
Things like that happen, especially in the city, and folks tend to notice.
“You are a damn fool.” I wanted to say I was sorry for putting that look on Dempsey’s face. His smile got a little shaky then, and he lowered his arm, fist full of those pretty roses. But really, he should have known better.
Three white men I’d seen a few times around the Simoneaux place watched as I tugged on Dempsey’s arm and pulled him around to the alley just in back of Mama’s shop.
“I got these for you, Sookie. To make you feel better.”
“Don’t tell me why you got them. Lord, Dempsey, I know why you did.” It couldn’t be helped. The roses really had the fullest blooms and their scent, thick and sweet, blocked out the nasty smell of garbage and trashed liquor bottles that littered the ground next to us. I took the flowers, despite my fussing, and held them in front of my face, smelling that sweet perfume. “You should have waited.”
“No time like now.” He stepped closer, resting his palm on the brick wall at my back and I wondered if he’d dare to kiss me, right here, where anyone could look into the alley to find us standing close, our mouths just inches apart.