One Midnight (ONC 2024) ✔️

Chapter Nine - Marie Guidry

I try to erase the events from the previous days out of my mind as I walk up the steps to the university where I take classes for my master's degree. What I told Mei that night, and didn't tell her about the words I saw all around me. I know I have ticker-tape synesthesia, but what I experienced was different. I held the words in my hand, and it was like it was a beating heart pulsing against my palm.

The wedding dream about Jeff and me, well, it boggles my mind too. Why did I dream so hard and in the middle of New Orleans? How long was I out, and why did not a single soul try to wake me up?

I shake off the cobwebs from my mind and concentrate on walking to the music hall for my first set of classes.

The class situation that I'm in is not ideal, really. I wanted to go to LSU for my masters, but Loyola accepted me with open arms.

I initially did not want to take any classes at all before enrolling, as I was content with my lot in life, but things are getting harder for me. I taught music at the elementary level for a few years until I realized it was not gratifying for me at all. A slave to a rubric and do re mi all day long, it got to be where I could not stand even walking in the door to the various elementary schools. It was definitely not the kids, but everything else.

To be where I truly want to be, I need to go all the way — and not just at some random halfway point. I want to be more than just a street performer. It always hits me when I play at Jackson Square in the French Quarter.

I often play my flute right in front of St. Louis Cathedral. I don't really know why I always choose this place to play, but I have a certain connection with it. It's hard to understand, but I like the deep sense of peace that floods my veins whenever I stand near it. I want to be a professional musician, like the ones who play with the New York Philharmonic. Or like the musician from the other night. Nicolas.

My heart squeezes when I think of him and the way I left him all alone at the French Market entrance. Was he waiting for me? I frown as I walk up to the main doors of the music hall, standing under the covering as I grab for my phone.

"Oh, Corrie!" A voice says, resonating as I open the door.

"Hey, Natalie! Where y'at?" I ask with a wave. "You ready for that opera history quiz today?"

She rolls her eyes as I let her in. "If I have to analyze the recitatives from this opera one more time. I might skip out on it, but Dr. Peterson wouldn't be too thrilled."

"Is he ever thrilled?"

"Maybe about Marie Guidry." She laughs. "The way he talks about this opera, it's almost as if he knew Marie Guidry on a personal level. Like what would she say if she were here?"

"Well, she's been dead since 1790," I say. "So I guess we'd have to see her ghost or something."

Natalie laughs, her body shaking as she puts a little bounce in her step. "Do you believe in ghosts?"

"Nah," I say with a shrug. "Ghosts are just a fiction."

But what about the strange experience I had two nights ago at Mei's apartment? The dream about marrying Jeff? That one is something I can explain, at least a little.

The other people in the opera history class sit outside the locked classroom door as they wait for Dr. Peterson to arrive. He always comes in a little late.

Some people are listening to Marie Guidry's opera, La Soubrette, cramming any information that they can before it's too late. Honestly, I barely even studied for the thing. I forgot about it at the time that Dr. Peterson sent out the email to the entire class. Of course my blood ran cold, but what am I supposed to do about it? I got wrapped up in all of this Mardi Gras stuff. The man named Nicolas having his flute stolen, and, to top it off, all of those strange dreams.

I rest my head against the wall and let out a sigh.

"You okay?" Natalie asks, resting her hand on top of my arm. "Is it Jeff again?"

I shrug. "Yeah, kinda. I had another dream about Jeff the other night. I can't quite shake it off."

"It'll be easier if you let him go," Natalie says, drumming her fingers against her binder.

I notice the portrait of a woman tucked behind the plastic covering and squint my eyes. There's something familiar about her, something about how the woman carries herself. I can't quite place where I've seen her before.

And right as I'm about to ask Natalie who the woman is, Dr. Peterson arrives with a steaming to-go cup from PJs Coffee in hand, his large wide-rimmed glasses almost falling off of his nose as he stumbles to find the key in his pocket, muttering something in French.

He unlocks the door and students come in by droves, some of them still listening to La Soubrette.

"Welcome in, class!" he says, taking a sip of his coffee. "There is absolutely nothing like an excellent coffee with chicory. Don't you think PJs is the best? Well, I do! It's everyone's favorite time of day. Quiz day. So settle your horses and let's get quizzing on one of the best operas to come out of New Orleans, and no, it's not a soap opera." He chuckles, thinking that he is being funny, but in truth, no one in the class is laughing. "But first I have to call roll."

It is there again. I feel it stirring in the depths of my stomach, rising up into my chest. I close my eyes, my head falling on my desk. 

1720

I am at the river again. I do not know the time of day, and I do not care to know. It is dark and there are a multitude of stars. I find comfort in each one of them as I lean back and stare up into the late-night sky. It is much better than staring up at the cypress ceiling of my new bedroom, the one I share with Francois.

I do not want to think of our marital bed or anything regarding him. It is not how I expected it to be, not at all. I am sorrowful of it now. I know I am his wife now, but I do not feel like his wife. He does not treat me like a woman, nor does he make me feel complete. When we are together, we are disconnected. His life differs from mine. His entire world is a fairy-tale to me. He lived the life I deserved to live. A comfortable life before hearing of a new world.

I think he knows. I know he knows. He no longer looks at me with the disgust most men do upon knowing what I am.

Instead, every time our eyes meet, there is confusion. I know he saw the blood from our first time and how quickly I tried to cover it up. I kept my head hung low, tears stained on my face from the pain.

I am here now. It feels so good to get away from it. I have to wash it all off. I must get rid of everything about him from my body. I sit at the edge of the river and partially put my body in, letting my lower self be washed of him.

I sob as the water flows against me. I want to go back. I close my eyes and try to imagine my old life, my family, my old home. Even though we were a poor family, we had love in our home. So much love that if it were accumulated and bottled up, the world would have been able to contain it.

And all that changed when the police officers grabbed me in the streets and arrested me. With coldness in their eyes, the police officers snuffed up all the love in my home. My family would not even look me in the eye. They were ashamed of what I was, what they thought I was. How little faith they had in me! I thought their love for me was unconditional and real, but they only wanted me for the money I could bring them. For the food on the table. I never wanted to work to begin with. I wanted to play with little Jacques and Sophie, also wanting to help with the new baby — who does not even know I exist today, for my family blotted me out of existence.

Now I have this family, the group of women who will never turn their backs on me.

The coolness of the water fills me. I sink myself deeper, enjoying the water against my skin.

I am no longer Marie Antoinette Lefebvre, the poor virgin prostitute. I can no longer call myself a virgin, for Francois has taken that away from me. I am no longer Marie Antoinette Lefebvre, the girl who fought to live here, suffering on Ship Island, then Biloxi. I am no longer Marie Antoinette Lefebvre, the little girl who once thought she would become a fairy princess in a magical kingdom far away from my tiny home in my cramped neighborhood.

My new name fills me with sadness down to my core. When I whisper it aloud, I feel empty and alone. But now it is too late for I am Marie Guidry.