Tarnished Gold

'He caused a terrible commotion over at the Tate Cannery,' the policeman explained. 'We're holding him until Mr. Tate decides whether or not to press charges.'

Mama thanked the policeman for coming by to tell us.

'What are you going to do, Mama?' I asked after they left. 'Are you going to go over to speak to Octavious?'

She shook her head. 'I'm tired of bailing your father out of trouble, Gabrielle. Let him sit in the clink for a while. Maybe it will drum some sense in his head.'

That evening after Mama and I had a quiet dinner, we sat on the galerie and watched the road, both wondering if Daddy would come driving up. Mama was very troubled, and those worries made her look so much older to me.

'Things have a way of going so sour sometimes,' she suddenly muttered. 'I guess I'm not doing so well as a traiteur. I can't do much for my own family,' she moaned.

'That's not so, Mama. You've done a lot for us. Where would I be without your help and comfort?' I reminded her.

'I should have looked after you better, Gabrielle. I should have warned you about the evil that lurks deep within some people, and I shouldn't have left you alone so much. It's my fault,' she said.

'No it isn't, Mama. I was stupid and blind. I shouldn't have been wandering around in my own dreamworld so much.'

'It's been hard,' she said. 'It's like you never had a father. Be so careful about who you fall, in love with, Gabrielle,' she warned. 'It's so important. That first decision decides the road you'll follow, all the turns and hills, the twists and gullies.'

'But, Mama, if you couldn't see the future, how can I expect to do so?'

'You don't have to see the future. Just don't be as trusting anymore and don't let your heart tell your mind to shut up.' She rocked and shook her head.

'Will Daddy ever change, Mama?'

'Fraid not, sweetheart. What's rotted in his heart has taken hold of him. Now he's just a man to endure. Looks like you and I will have to tend to ourselves.'

'We'll do fine, Mama. We always have.'

'Maybe,' she said. She smiled. 'Of course we will,' she said, and patted my hand. We hugged and then talked about other things until we both grew tired and decided to go to sleep.

I had to pump my breasts again and again; I conjured the image of baby Paul as I did so. I fell asleep dreaming of his tiny fingers and his sweet face.

Late in the morning Daddy returned. He was sullen and quiet, so Mama had to drag the story out of him. He did go back to Octavious to demand an additional payment, only this time, Octavious had his men throw Daddy off the grounds. Daddy sat in his truck, beeping his horn and creating a disturbance until Octavious called the police.

This morning the police told him Octavious wasn't making a formal complaint, but Daddy was warned to stay away from the Tate property. If he came within a hundred yards of it, they would lock him up again. He ranted and raved about how the rich controlled the law. He vowed to find a way to get back at them. Mama, refusing to talk to him, nevertheless made him something to eat. Finally he calmed down and talked about taking up Fletcher Tyler's offer to hire him as a guide for hunters in the swamp.

'Nobody could do it better than me. It pays all right and they give you tips,' he told Mama. 'Well?' he said when she didn't comment. 'What'cha so quiet for? It's what you want me to do, honest work, ain't it?'

'I'll believe it when I see you actually doing it,' she told him.

That set him on a tirade about how Cajun women don't give their men the support the men need. He raged about it for a while and then went off to trap some muskrats.

The day passed slowly into another hot and muggy night. Fireflies danced over the swamp water and the owls complained to each other. After I went up to my room, I sat by my window and listened to the cicadas. I wondered if Paul was asleep or being nursed. I imagined his little arms swinging, his excitement coming with every new discovery about his own body, and I turned to find a pen and some paper to write the letter I would never send.

Dear Paul,

You will probably grow up never hearing my name. If we do see each other, you will not look at me any differently from the way you look at anyone else. Perhaps, when you are old enough to realize, you might see me looking at you with a soft smile on my face and you, might wonder who I am and why I am gazing at you this way. if you ask your parents about me, they won't tell you anything. We will remain strangers.

But maybe, just maybe, on a night as warm and as lonely as this one is for me, you will feel a strange longing and you will realize something is missing. You may never tell anyone about this feeling, but it will be there and it will come often.

And then, one day, when you're old enough to put the feeling into a thought, you will remember the young girl who looked at you with such love and you will realize there was something more in her eyes.

Maybe you will confront your father or your mother and maybe, just maybe, they will be forced to tell you the truth.

I wonder then if you will hate me for deserting you. I wonder if you will want to know me. I wonder if we will ever have a conversation.

If we did, I would tell you that when you were born, I thought it was glorious and I was filled with such love for you, I feared my heart would burst. I would tell you I spent night after night crying when I thought about you. I would tell you I was sorry.

Of course, you might hate your father and resent your stepmother, so I have to think hard before I