How horrid and guilty I felt. Maybe this was my fault. Maybe I was wrong to bathe nude. I had a woman's mature body and I would be a liar to claim I never craved to be touched, to tingle and fulfill my own longing for love; but it was a longing I had hoped to satisfy with someone who truly cherished and loved me, too.
I desperately longed to talk to Mama about it, to get her advice and wisdom, but I didn't see how I could do so without her realizing what had happened. Mama would take one deep look into my eyes and know the truth. I had to be strong and not appear to be avoiding her gaze tonight, I thought. I sat there with my eyes closed and held my breath. Then I released it and took long, deep breaths, willing my heart to stop thumping like a drum. I would be calm. I would press this memory down and smother it with other thoughts.
My legs were still trembling when I stood up to begin my poling, but as I gathered speed and momentum, they grew stronger and more sturdy. I pushed myself away from the pond, the leaves of the sprawling cypress closing like a door behind me. I didn't look back. For a while as I continued, I darted my gaze from side to side, afraid Monsieur Tate might be somewhere nearby, waiting to apologize or plead with me to say nothing. The thought of facing him ever again set my heart pounding. What would I do? What would he do?
When I reached our dock and tied up my pirogue, I checked my clothing and tried to see my reflection in the water. Mama would think my appearance was due only to my swim anyway, I assured myself. I looked up at the shack where I knew she was waiting, setting the table, lighting a butane lantern, putting a record on our windup Victrola, trying to forget her own troubles. I had to do everything I could to keep what had just happened to me buried outside the house.
I took a deep breath and started up the pathway. As soon as Mama heard my steps on the galerie, she called.
'Is that you, Gabrielle?'
'Yes, Mama. I'll just go up and change into something else,' I said. 'I got this dress wet and dirty,' I added before she could inquire. I flashed a smile at her in the kitchen and hurried up the stairway to my bedroom.
'How was your swim?' she called.
'Refreshing, Mama. You should come with me someday.' I heard her laugh.
'I don't remember when I swam last. Probably that time your father took us all to Lake Pontchartrain, before the war. Can you remember that?'
'Yes, Mama.'
I studied myself in the long mirror over the oak armoire in Mama's room. My shoulders were red and there were faint patches of irritation on my neck, too. What was I to do? I put on my yellow and white dress, the one that had the buttons up to my collarbone, and then I wiped my hair vigorously with a towel, brushed it down, and wrapped the towel over my neck like a scarf. I kept my fingers crossed and descended to the kitchen. Mama looked up from the stove.
'This roux is delicious, honey. I boiled some crawfish, too.'
'I'm starving,' I said. I got us some napkins and some of Mama's lemonade. She brought the pot to the table and ladled out the crawfish and roux. She had thrown in some vegetables and rice. It smelled delicious.
'What'cha doin' with that towel?' she asked with a smile before she sat.
'My hair's still very wet, Mama. I'm too hungry to wait.' She laughed and we started to eat.
'Well, like I told you. Your father's not coming home for dinner. I'm locking him out tonight,' she declared. 'He's nothing but a thief, stealing your dowry money for that stupid scheme. If he spent half the time and energy he spends on schemes doing legitimate work instead, we'd be millionaires, as least as rich as the Tates,' she said, and I nearly dropped my spoon.
'What's wrong, Gabrielle?' she asked quickly.
'I swallowed too fast, Mama.'
'Well, take your time, honey. You got all the time in the world. Don't rush your life like I did. Think twice and then think twice more before you say yes to anything. No matter how simple or small it seems.'
'Yes, Mama.'
The music had stopped.
'I'm going to wind it up again,' Mama said. 'Tonight I just feel like hearing music. Tonight I don't want to hear silence.'
I watched her get up and go to the Victrola. I hated being deceitful to her, but she was so down, so depressed and alone, I could never add even a pinch of sadness to her misery. I lowered my eyes to my food. After I ate, I helped clean up and then went upstairs to finish sewing my graduation dress. Mama had cut out the pattern. She went out on the galerie to-weave some split-oak baskets, but she wasn't out there long before Mr. LaFourche came to fetch her in his Ford pickup truck. His wife was having terrible stomach cramps.
'I got to go make a visit,' she called up to me. 'You be all right?'
'Yes, Mama. I'm fine.'
'If that no-account father of yours shows up, don't give him anything to eat,' she said.
'I won't, Mama,' I said, but she knew I would. After I heard the truck leave, I came out of the loom room and put on my dress. I went to Mama's mirror again and gazed at myself in the light of the butane lamp. The dress fit perfectly. I thought it made me look years older.
But I didn't smile at my image.
I didn't feel my heart burst with joy and excitement.
I began to cry. I sobbed so hard, my stomach ached. And then I ran out of tears and sat silently on my bed, staring through the window at the sliver of moon above the willow trees. I sighed deeply, took off my graduation dress, put on my nightgown, and crawled under my blanket.
When I closed my eyes, Mr. Tate's face with his lustful smile appeared. I moaned and sat up quickly, my heart
