'I will,' I said.
'I'll speak to you soon,' he promised, and hung up. I wondered if the telephone wires could withstand all of the laughter and tears, the happiness and sadness that would pass through them this night.
'Who was that?' Gisselle demanded from the doorway.
'Paul. He wants me to tell you merry Christmas and happy new year.'
'That's nice, but why do you have that gloomy look on your face? Wipe it off,' Gisselle ordered. She had a bottle of rum in her hands and she smiled, holding it up. 'We're going to have a good time tonight.'
I stared at her, my twin sister, indulgent, spoiled, capricious, and self-centered, sitting in her unnecessary wheelchair, milking everyone around her of their sympathy and using her false condition to get people to do and give her anything she wanted. At this moment on Christmas Eve, I saw her as the embodiment of all the evil inclinations in my own heart and imagined I was looking at the darker part of myself, almost like Dr. Jekyll peering into a mirror and seeing Mr. Hyde. And like Dr. Jekyll, I couldn't hate this side of myself as much as I wanted because it was still part of me, part of who I was. I felt trapped, tormented by my longings and dreams. Maybe I was just tired of being who Gisselle said I was: Miss Goody Two-Shoes.
'You're right, Gisselle. We're going to have a good time.' She laughed gleefully and we went into the parlor to wait for Beau and John.
Less than half an hour after Beau and John arrived, Gisselle had John take her upstairs to her room and Beau and I were left alone. The house had grown very quiet. Nina had gone to her room, and Edgar and Martha were in their quarters. Only the occasional bong of the grandfather clock in the hallway interrupted the silence.
'I thought and thought for months about your Christmas present,' Beau said after we had kissed passionately for a few moments. 'What could I give a girl who has everything?'
'I'm hardly the girl who has everything, Beau. True, I live in this luxurious house and I have more clothes than I know what to do with, but . . .'
'What do you mean? You have me, don't you?' he asked, laughing. 'You promised you were not going to be serious, that we'd relax and have fun, and here you are taking everything I say literally.'
'You're right. I'm sorry. What did you buy the girl who has everything?'
'Nothing,' he said.
'What?'
'Oh, I did buy this solid gold chain to hold it around your neck,' he said, plucking the chain and his school ring out of his pocket. My breath caught in my throat. For a young Creole man in New Orleans, the giving of his school ring or his fraternity pin was a step below the giving of an engagement ring. It meant that all the words and vows we had whispered to each other and pledged over the telephone would be consummated. I would be his girl and only his girl, and he would be my young man, not only in our own eyes but in the eyes of our families and friends.
'Oh, Beau!'
'Will you wear it?' he asked.
I looked into his soft blue eyes, eyes filled with promises and love. 'Yes, Beau. I will,' I said, and he put it around my neck, and then with his fingers he followed the chain down to the valley between my breasts where his ring sat snugly. I thought I could feel its warmth through my blouse, a warmth that traveled with electric speed to my heart and started it racing. He brought his lips to mine and I moaned, feeling my body soften and mold to his embrace. The parlor was only dimly lit by the illumination of one small table lamp and the flickering flames in the fireplace. Beau reached over and turned of the lamplight. Then he turned my shoulders and I permitted my body to slide under him on the sofa. His lips were on my neck, his fingers unbuttoning my blouse so he could follow my breasts to their fullness.
Filled with abandon, tired of the anguish and agony that had pursued me relentlessly these past months, I turned myself to Beau with kisses that were even more demanding. Everywhere his fingers traveled I welcomed them, and when he lifted the cups of my bra away and nudged my nipples with his tongue and then his lips, I sank deeper and deeper into the warm pool of ecstasy that had flowed down from my shoulders, over my waist and legs, and brought tingling to the tips of my toes.
I kept my eyes closed and just listened to the rustling of his clothing and felt his fingers move under my skirt and slip my panties down. I raised my legs and let him take them off completely. The realization of my nudity drove my excitement to an even higher pitch. I tasted his tongue, his lips, and kissed his closed eyes. Both of us were whispering 'Yes' into each other's ears. I opened my eyes for just a moment and saw the shadows and light from the fire dancing on the walls and even over us. For a moment, perhaps because of the heat between us, I felt as if we were in the fire, consuming ourselves with our own flames. But I wanted it, I wanted it very much.
I opened myself to him and he pressed himself forward and inward, calling my name as if he feared he would lose me even at this moment. I clutched his shoulders, pulling down on his back and joining him in the undulation that would make us feel as if we had become one entity. Wave after wave of passion washed over us. I couldn't distinguish one kiss from another. It became one long kiss, one long embrace, one graceful turn after another.
'I love you, Ruby. I love you,' he cried at his climax. I muffled my own cries in his shoulder and hung onto him with all my might as if that would prolong the ecstatic moments. Then we stopped moving and simply held each other and breathed hard, waiting for our pounding hearts to slow down.
It had all happened so quickly. There hadn't been much of a chance to reconsider, not that I thought I would have. I had welcomed him, welcomed the relief and the passion, the love and the tenderness, the beautiful feeling; and in moments, I had smothered the darkness and the sadness that had haunted me for so long. As long as I had Beau, I thought, I would have sunshine.
'Are you all right?' he asked. I nodded. 'I didn't mean to be so . . .'
'It's all right, Beau. Let's not make each other feel guilty or dirty. I love you and you love me. Nothing else matters, and that makes whatever we do good and pure, because it's good and pure to us.'
'Oh Ruby, I do love you. I can't imagine loving anyone else as much.'
'I hope that's true, Beau.'
'It is,' he promised.
