ivory vines that glistened under the moonlight,
and clumps of tiny pink rose bushes, it seemed deceptively
peaceful.
The streetlamp cast an eerie glow on
Antoine’s face and I could feel that he was wrestling with some
monumental decision. He took my gloved hand into his. “Don’t go
tomorrow, Cecile. It’s not right. You shouldn’t have to follow in
your Maman’s footsteps.”
I squeezed his hand. “It is what it is.
You sound as if I’m going to sell my very soul; clearly that is not
the case. There are thousands of men and women of all colors who
marry for convenience, and this arrangement is no
different.”
Although I joked about
it , the very
thought made my skin crawl... I wasn’t supposed to think like that.
I couldn’t think like that. I was lucky. There were thousands of
other women who would have died to be in my place. It was perfectly
normal.
“ It’s not the same thing,” he
said adamantly.
I let out a low sigh and tried
to find the words that would somehow accurately express how I felt.
“You don’t know how it is, Antoine. Your parents are
prosperous gens de couleur libres . Your Maman was lucky enough to find your Papa so
they could build a life together. Build a life for you -
but it’s not that easy for everyone. This is the only world I’ve
ever known. How can I openly condemn the very practice that gave
birth to me? I may not agree with it, but if I openly shun it that
makes my whole life one big lie.”
His nostrils flared and he shook his
head. “But…”
I hushed him by pressing my index finger
up against his lips. “I know. I know. You don’t approve. We’ll have
to agree to disagree.”
“ Cecile Antoinette Fanchon
LaNuit!” Maman screeched from the porch.
Even though she was an
exquisitely dressed tiny woman with exceptionally beautiful
features ,
the mere sight of her angry had the power to make my blood run
cold.
“ Adieu,” I whispered, giving Antoine a
final strong, reassuring smile.
“ How could you!” she hissed
venomously. Her nails dug into my wrist and her thin lips were
twisted into a cruel scowl as she dragged me inside the house.
“You’re not a child! How dare you! How dare you! How dare you sneak
off with him! Your reputation is on the line! No one wants a ruined
woman- no one!” Her eyes were wild and filled with so much fire I
had no choice but to bow my head in submission and hold my breath,
hoping she wouldn’t smell the absinthe on it.
“ He’s my friend, Maman,” I said
weakly.
She let go of my wrist, took me by my
shoulders and shook me as if she were trying to pull me out of a
deep slumber. “Friend! Friend! You are too old for friends like
him! He’s a man! You’re a fully grown woman! Why can’t you be like
Isadora’s girls? Do you see them sneaking off and acting like
classless savages? Do you ever see them unaccompanied? What am I
going to do with you? You’re throwing your future away. Did I raise
you to be this way? Do you want to spend the rest of your life
working as a seamstress or in some other miserable low-class
profession?”
“ Stop, please,” I pleaded. I had
heard the same speech countless times but it never made it easier.
Each scream and each wail was painfully excruciating and made me
feel as if I had committed some gruesome and unforgivable
crime.
“ Can’t you see the disgrace
you’re bringing upon me? On yourself?”
Tears of frustration and despair started
to slide down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I whispered,
desperate to end the fight before it started.
“ This city loves to gossip! This
city loves to see others fall! Life is cheap and one wrong move is
the end for you, do you hear? You do understand how privileged you
are? Do you understand how fragile life is for us? Do you have any
idea how many people are suffering? Do you want to be like
them?”
“ I know. I know. I’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry.” I was barely audible through my tears. “Please
forgive me. I won’t
and clumps of tiny pink rose bushes, it seemed deceptively
peaceful.
The streetlamp cast an eerie glow on
Antoine’s face and I could feel that he was wrestling with some
monumental decision. He took my gloved hand into his. “Don’t go
tomorrow, Cecile. It’s not right. You shouldn’t have to follow in
your Maman’s footsteps.”
I squeezed his hand. “It is what it is.
You sound as if I’m going to sell my very soul; clearly that is not
the case. There are thousands of men and women of all colors who
marry for convenience, and this arrangement is no
different.”
Although I joked about
it , the very
thought made my skin crawl... I wasn’t supposed to think like that.
I couldn’t think like that. I was lucky. There were thousands of
other women who would have died to be in my place. It was perfectly
normal.
“ It’s not the same thing,” he
said adamantly.
I let out a low sigh and tried
to find the words that would somehow accurately express how I felt.
“You don’t know how it is, Antoine. Your parents are
prosperous gens de couleur libres . Your Maman was lucky enough to find your Papa so
they could build a life together. Build a life for you -
but it’s not that easy for everyone. This is the only world I’ve
ever known. How can I openly condemn the very practice that gave
birth to me? I may not agree with it, but if I openly shun it that
makes my whole life one big lie.”
His nostrils flared and he shook his
head. “But…”
I hushed him by pressing my index finger
up against his lips. “I know. I know. You don’t approve. We’ll have
to agree to disagree.”
“ Cecile Antoinette Fanchon
LaNuit!” Maman screeched from the porch.
Even though she was an
exquisitely dressed tiny woman with exceptionally beautiful
features ,
the mere sight of her angry had the power to make my blood run
cold.
“ Adieu,” I whispered, giving Antoine a
final strong, reassuring smile.
“ How could you!” she hissed
venomously. Her nails dug into my wrist and her thin lips were
twisted into a cruel scowl as she dragged me inside the house.
“You’re not a child! How dare you! How dare you! How dare you sneak
off with him! Your reputation is on the line! No one wants a ruined
woman- no one!” Her eyes were wild and filled with so much fire I
had no choice but to bow my head in submission and hold my breath,
hoping she wouldn’t smell the absinthe on it.
“ He’s my friend, Maman,” I said
weakly.
She let go of my wrist, took me by my
shoulders and shook me as if she were trying to pull me out of a
deep slumber. “Friend! Friend! You are too old for friends like
him! He’s a man! You’re a fully grown woman! Why can’t you be like
Isadora’s girls? Do you see them sneaking off and acting like
classless savages? Do you ever see them unaccompanied? What am I
going to do with you? You’re throwing your future away. Did I raise
you to be this way? Do you want to spend the rest of your life
working as a seamstress or in some other miserable low-class
profession?”
“ Stop, please,” I pleaded. I had
heard the same speech countless times but it never made it easier.
Each scream and each wail was painfully excruciating and made me
feel as if I had committed some gruesome and unforgivable
crime.
“ Can’t you see the disgrace
you’re bringing upon me? On yourself?”
Tears of frustration and despair started
to slide down my cheeks. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry,” I whispered,
desperate to end the fight before it started.
“ This city loves to gossip! This
city loves to see others fall! Life is cheap and one wrong move is
the end for you, do you hear? You do understand how privileged you
are? Do you understand how fragile life is for us? Do you have any
idea how many people are suffering? Do you want to be like
them?”
“ I know. I know. I’m so sorry.
I’m so sorry.” I was barely audible through my tears. “Please
forgive me. I won’t
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