The Mardi Gras Queen

1892: Irene

I had continued to turn the other cheek the coming weeks, but I suspected what my sister was doing with the servant. The only thing I could not suspect was the arrival of John into my life.

When John smiles, his eyes lit up with amusement. His eyes were like a cat, they stared at you with enormous intensity - that of which you didn't know was going to pounce, to discard you, or to eat you up.

John and I went to the same school together - him on the boy's and my sister and I on the girl's. We met for choir, where the other girls would try to catch his eye by being charming or singing what they thought was the correct key. He knew what they were doing though, and he kept himself friendly but also at an arm's distance away from them. The only person he noticed was me, and for what reason, I was completely befuddled. I guess, looking back, I was the only girl not trying to impress him; at first not even believing him to be worth my time. Men always love a challenge.

That was, of course, when he started to encourage me. He told me to have more confidence in myself. He treated me with so much kindness, whereas the other guys would not even look my way for being too intellectual and intimidating. I got addicted to the high before I realized what was going on - with every walk and conversation we had, I was slowly but surely falling more in love with him.

If he noticed, he turned a blind eye and kept his distance. He enjoyed our friendship, but my looks were not enough to inspire more feeling from him. His time spent with me was enough to restart my cold, silent heart. He remained my friend, and as such, went out with me to restaurants and festivals. Many people would take notice (I was all too much hoping they would) and I relished in the fantasy that once John realized how many people were rooting for stoic, nervous Irene to have love with charismatic, intense John - he would be forced to recognize the deep friendship we had and see it as having the potential for something more.

Then comes my sister, always willing to take away what's mine. I never got over it. Perhaps I was naive for not thinking someone would come along. We kissed. We did things, and I was a fool. I never hated her anymore than I did at that moment - word spreads quickly around New Orleans. It was almost as if Elaine was waiting to talk about Ishmael and, because I wouldn't she decided to flirt with John. I'm 99% sure she knew, for when she put her hands on his shoulders at our dinner party, the rest of the guests stared - for she had finally decided on the suitor she had waited so long to claim.

From that moment on, there was a sparkle in my grandmother's eye - she would do anything to get Elaine and John to have alone time together. I can't say I blame her, even now - Elaine the reigning Mardi Gras Queen and John the Homecoming King. They began going on dates and he hung with me less and less.

One day, Elaine marched into my room.

"I'm marrying John. Thought you should know" she retorted.

My nose twitched, head sinking further in one of grandad's business books. I know that I will never be in business, but the comfort of an internal conversation that is analytical and only concerned with assets soothes my anxiety.

"So? You think I care? Please Elaine" I replied.

"I know that you care. I know that it kills you to think of it. He proposed to me the other day. I've seen the way you look at him. I know that he knows your feelings for him, and that he ignores them every time."

"You will ruin him" I muttered bitterly, biting down the stray tears threatening to leak from my eyes.

"He loves me. He's changed himself for me and is becoming a better person. It's because I love myself, and have respect for myself. Maybe if you did too, he would look at you that way."

I couldn't say anything to that. She wasn't wrong. Every ounce of me has been full of crippling anxiety and self-loathing for hundreds of nights, year after year. Still, I knew one bait for her.

"You still love Ishmael" I say.

"You and I know that the affair I had with Ishmael was never going to last. He's already started to date other girls, girls that are more his kind."

Silence pervaded the room. More tears begun to fall.

"Why did you have to take him away?" my voice asked, quivering.

"I didn't do anything. He left you all by himself. You were too needy, and you threw yourself on him."

"I can't believe that you love him" I replied. "Love would never inspire anyone to be so cruel."

"Love does not exist" said Elaine. "Marriage is only a construct to get people through life, toward their death. All we have for assurances in this life are death and taxes. You should stop dreaming Irene, get your head out of the clouds."

I had planned a whole host of remarks for Elaine but all I could manage was silence and tears.

"Please leave."

...

She did leave. That was the last conversation I had with her. They had the wedding in the backyard. John looked as if he were positively beaming - his face being unable to contain his smile. I locked myself in my room, watching the wedding down below. No one thought to look for me, though to most of New Orleans it was easy to doubt all these years that Elaine ever had a sister at all. Maybe all these years locked up with my schoolbooks had been a detriment - maybe I was too isolated, too uncaring towards others, and too unimportant to have the chance of meeting someone at this point.

I thought about Ishmael somewhat, pleased with somebody sharing a bit of my misery. Figured out that him and Elaine must have come to some sort of closure, because he didn't show at her wedding. He probably couldn't bare the sight, though he knew the ending would come anyway. That period of her life was over.