Out of the Easy(81)

I had to state the obvious. “Willie would not want people coming to the house after the funeral,” I said quietly. Everyone was in agreement.

“Let’s have a party after the funeral, a real swank affair,” said Dora. “The fellas at Galatoire’s loved Willie. And the johns can just say that they’re eating at Galatoire’s. Oh, Willie loved their shrimp rémoulade.” This small remembrance sent Dora back into a fit of sobs.

Dora was right. Willie was involved with so many people. Shopkeepers, restaurant owners, liquor suppliers, musicians, accountants, businessmen, and government officials. There was a vast array of people who would want to pay their respects but couldn’t be openly associated with Willie’s house. An event at a local restaurant would celebrate Willie as a member of the community, not just a brothel madam.

“I can’t tell you what a very sad day this is for me,” said Dr. Sully, his voice breaking up. “I’ve known Willie since we were children. The Quarter won’t be the same without her.” He cleared his throat, trying to shake off the emotion. “It sounds like we’ve got a plan. Josie, you’ll be responsible for coordinating?”

“Me?” I said. “Why me?”

“Oh, sugar, you know it’s what Willie would want,” said Dora. “And y’all, I am officially in mournin’.”

“I’ll help you, Josie girl.” Cokie sniffed. “Best I can, that is.” Sadie nodded. Sweety said she would arrange for Walter Sutherland to pay for the event at Galatoire’s.

? ? ?

Cokie got a black wreath for the door. Word flew through the Quarter. Sadie stood at the front door, Sweety at the side. Flowers began arriving. Sal brought food from the restaurant.

I sat next to Willie’s bed, looking at her, hands folded across her chest. The room felt hot and airless, darkly thick. We were alone.

It was my fault. I looked at Willie’s empty eyes and knew that my selfishness had made her ill. I had seen her swollen hands and ankles, noticed her fatigue, but I was too busy with my own plans to help her. Or maybe it was a desire to prove her wrong. She always warned me, predicted exactly how things would unfold, but every time life lied to me, I tried to rationalize the situation, hanging off some upside-down promise, like Forrest Hearne.

I told Willie all about Mr. Hearne, how he made me feel, and why I held on to his watch. “So I buried it out at Shady Grove,” I told her. “I know he’s not my father, Willie, but why can’t I dream that he is? Aren’t I good enough to believe that the other half of me is something wonderful, that I could be David Copperfield? If the thought that I’m part of something respectable gives me hope, why can’t I hold on to that? He assumed I was in college, Willie. A fancy, smart man like that assumed I was in college, and you know what? It made me want to live up to the vision he had of me. He gave me hope. The dream is still alive in the watch.”

I wanted her to swear at me, call me an idiot, something. But I didn’t have to command her to speak. I could hear her voice, knew exactly what she would say and how she would say it.

“Yes, Willie, but what sort of cruel twist of fate is it that the man I dream to be my father is killed by my mother? It’s almost Shakespearean.”

The undertaker arrived. He seemed disturbed by my casual conversation with Willie’s corpse.

“I know, Willie. I know.” I turned to the undertaker. “She wants us to put the black kimono on her instead. And fresh lipstick.” Sadie and I made sure everything was in the safe. All valuables were put in Willie’s room, and the door was locked.

“I’m not worried about the others,” I told Sadie. “Just Evangeline. She seems outside herself right now.” Sadie nodded.

I walked down Conti toward Royal, not sure how my feet were even moving. My life was encased in a box and someone had picked it up, shaken it violently, and thrown it back down. Everything was in pieces, displaced, and would never fit back together. I wouldn’t make the early morning walk to Willie’s each day, push through her door with her tray of coffee, explain what I’d discovered in the rooms during my cleaning. We’d never go to Shady Grove together, never shoot cans off the fence or laugh about Ray and Frieda driving from their demons at night. I’d never hear her musky voice, full of tar and gasoline, reprimanding me for being too early or too late. Willie was gone, and the gaping hole left behind was so big I felt sure I would drown in it.

By the time I approached the bookshop, I was sobbing. My face was swollen, awash with tears. The light from the streetlamp glowed, revealing Jesse sitting with his back against the door of the shop, one knee pulled up to his chest. I reached the door. He said nothing, just pulled me down into his lap and wrapped his arms around me.





FIFTY-SIX


Cokie picked me up in his cab for the funeral.

“Every time I think I’m done cried out, it comes at me all again,” said Cokie. “No one ever showed me respect like Willie, ’cept you and my momma. And it scares me, Jo. Willie was stronger than a tin roof, and if she go that easily, what’s that mean for the rest of us? I can’t put my head around it. One day she here, and we’re worried about Mr. Charlie cuttin’ himself with scissors, some rich man from Tennessee dyin’ in the Quarter, worried ’bout your momma and that no-good Cincinnati. Next it’s all done. Gone quiet. What we all gonna do without Willie? Never gonna be the same.” Cokie reached up and wiped his eyes. “Call this place ‘The Big Easy,’ shoot, ain’t nothin’ easy about it.”