Sebastian turned the corner onto Chestnut Street and noted the for sale sign in front of Mrs. Beaupain’s house. This would be the thrid time the house has sold since his favorite neighbor died ten years ago. He wondered why people didn’t set down roots like they use to. When he was growing up people only moved if there was a job transfer or a divorce. Otherwise children like him grew up in one house, went to one school for eight grades, and one high school. No one went away unless it was for college or find a job and get married. Such thinking made him sound old to himself and he was only thirty-never mind.
After pouring himself a glass of iced tea, he sat down in front of his computer. He logged in to the newspaper archives. He typed Margueite Deauville into the search window. The article reporting her disappearance popped up immediately.
“Police are asking for the public’s help in finding a woman who disappeared last night from the French Quarter. According to the woman’s husband, Marguerite Deauville disappeared last night sometime between nine and ten o’clock. The couple had gone out to dinner with friends where they shared the news they are expecting their first child. Later in the evening, Mrs. Deauville excused herself from the table to go to the powder room and never returned. Anyone who has seen her or who might know of her whereabouts are encouraged to contact police.”
Sebastian held the photo shopped photo next to the computer screen. They were virtually identical. So the old gypsy woman was indeed the long lost Marguerite Deauville. Where has she been all these years? Why was she apparently living on the streets when she had a family who would have loved nothing more than to have her back home? However, the twenty-five million dollar question he faced was: how do I break this news to Ursula, Gigi and Charles? He printed the article, making three copies. Sebastian would keep one, give Gus one, and take the last with him to dinner tonight. He wondered which bourbon he should bring as a chaser.
Something clanked downstairs, the sound of metal hitting metal. At first he didn’t know what it could be, but then he realized it was probably mail being pushed through the door. His iced tea could use topping off, so he took his glass downstairs. There was only one item on the floor near the front door. It was a large white envelope. When he picked it up he could see it had been opened and then taped shut again. He froze when he flipped it over and saw the address label.
The envelope had no business being there. The address belonged to his friend Cliff Nolte in Brooklyn, New York. This was the overnight packet that contained the last letter he received from Sean. The letter that he didn’t see until after Sean was killed. The letter he refused to read. How had it wound up at his house. His New Orleans address was no where to be found on it. Was Cliff in town for a visit?
Sebastian couldn’t open his door fast enough to greet his best friend. However, Cliff wasn’t on the veranda. No one was. Sebastian stepped out so he could look down the street. No one was in view on the street.
From around the corner a car horn sounded and brakes screeched. From the end of his veranda, Sebastian spotted the cause. Arpels, Mrs. Rafferty’s bichon frisé had gotten out of her yard again. Sebastian ran to the street to retrieve the errant dog. As he came back around the corner he encountered his worried and grateful Irish neighbor.
“There you are, you little dickens!” Mrs. Rafferty exclaimed.
“I live here, Mrs. Rafferty,” Sebastian grinned as he handed over the escapee.
“Oh, you!” Mrs Rafftery laughed. “You know full well I was talkin’ to me dog. Thank you, Sebastian. I’m afraid one of these days Arpels is goin’ to get herself killed. We’ve never been able to figure out how she gets out! She doesn’t do it all the time. You’d think she’d have gotten over it as old as she is.”
“I’m always happy to come to Arpels rescue, you know.”
“Thanks again, Sebastian. How have you been keeping yourself. I was sorry to learn about what happened.”
“I’m fine. Thanks for asking. Since you’re here, may I ask you a question, Mrs. Rafferty?”
“Of course. What would oyu like to know.”
“Just now someone stick an envelope through my mail slot like the one you sent to me in New York. Did you happen to see anyone walking or running away? Or the postman? Has he been around yet today?”
“Nossir. Can’t say I saw anybody. Mr. Sayville made his deliveries a couple hours ago. Why? Was it mischief?
“Hard to say. Certainly strange.”
“I’ll keep an eye out for ya, Sebastian, like always. I’ll let you know if’n I see anyone suspicious. Well, I’d better get this one home. I left a pot on the stove.”
“See you. Take care, Arpels.”
Sebastian went back inside and examined the envelope once more for any signs of his Chestnut Street address. Nothing. He pulled the end of the tape. Inside was exactly what he expected. Sean’s letter. Sebastian had not the slightest curiosity in its contents. As he had commented to Cliff when he first received it in Brooklyn, the postmark was the day Sebastian arrived in New York. Sean was most likely just reporting about the Monsignor’s coronary bypass surgery. That was old news by now. He took the large envelope as well as the letter with him to the kitchen to retrieve his iced tea. The larger envelope went into the trash. The letter he was contemplating burning on the gas stove. He thought better of that. Instead he proceeded to the garden patio where he planned to feed it to the gas grill.
“Aren’t you at least going to read it first?” he heard a voice ask.
“Sean?”
“I wish you would read my letter before yo set it on fire.”
“Go away. There is nothing for you here. I don’t want you here.”
“That’s because you haven’t read my letter.”
“Forget about the fuckin’ letter, Sean.” And with that Sebastian lit the gas grill, tossed in the letter and closed the lid. “There now, it’s gone. Done. Go!”
Somewhere someone had an outdoor stereo playing the Four Seasons. “I’m workin’ my way back to you, babe, with a burnn’ love inside. Yeah, I’m workin’ my back to you babe and the happiness that died —”
Sebastian sat down on one of the wrought iron patio chairs. He buried his face in his hands which were resting on his lap. He was crying and he didn’t want to cry. “God damn you, Sean! Just go away and leave me alone. You’re the one who fucked up, not me. You’re the one who died even though I pleased with you to hang on. You’re the pervert, not me. You’re the one who lied, not me. I don’t want to feel sad over you. I don’t want anything to do with you. Leave. Me. Alone.” Sebastian continued to cry inconsolably. He was so distraught he didn’t even hear the garden gate open and close.
“Sebastian?” he heard a voice ask.
He looked up. CJ was crouched down next to him and had placed an arm across Sebastian’s shoulders in an attempt to comfort him.
“CJ. What are you doing here?”
“It’s a quarter to seven. You promised my aunt you’d be at her house no later than six thirty, so I came by to see if you wanted a ride. What’s happened to make you so unhappy?”
“Nothing. Just a sudden case of the blues, I guess.”
“You cookin’ somethin’ in the grill? Somethin’s burning.”
“Shit!” Sebastian shouted and he got up to turn off the gas. “Give me a minute to wash my face and I’ll be ready to go.”
“Sebastian, if you’re not feelin’ up to an evening with people I understand. Ursula will understand also.”
“Thanks, CJ, but I think the best thing for me is to go out and be among the living. I’ll wash up. It’ll just take me a couple minutes.”
When Sebastian returned, CJ was admiring the garden. “My parents designed and planted it. I just replace plants as they die.”
“It’s beautiful, Sebastian. Just like you.’
“I’m not beautiful, CJ. Just adorable sometimes.”
CJ stood toe to toe with Sebastian and put his arms around him. “You’re beautiful now, Sebastian, now that you’ve been crying. Even knowing this I promise you I will never make you cry.” He coldn’t resist the impulse any longer. He kissed Sebastian full on the lips, and then parted those lips with this tongue and kissed him until Sebastian finally responded in kind.
When the kissing was over and they were standing looking at each other, Sebastian began to weep. “Well, we can check broken promise off the to-do list.”
“I’m not sure, but I don’t think tears of happiness count. Shall we phone my aunt and tell her somethin’s come up and we can’t make it to dinner?”
“You dirty man! Come in here and make me cry and now you’re going to cheat me out of a free home cooked meal? Shame on you, CJ!” Sebastian rotated his hips causing his pelvis to rub again CJ’s. “Yeah, somethin’s come up all right, but it’s gonna wait until baby’s been fed.”
CJ laughed and kissed Sebastian on the cheek. “Prick tease.”
“I’ve been called worse.”
“Like what/ What’s the worse thing anyone has ever called you/”
“Late for dinner. Now let’s go. You go back the way you came in. I need to get something for Ursula from the house and lock up. I’ll meet you in front.”
Sebastian picked up the photos and a bottle of Wild Turkey someone had given him that remained unopened, locked back and front doors and met CJ at the curb.
As they pulled away, Sebastian looked back at the house. An upstairs curtain moved.
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