Ordinarily, loneliness is not part of her life. But, when it visits, there is nothing else and no one else that can satisfy or distract her. There is one exception…
“Hello Stranger!
It’s seems like forever since we’ve been together. You’ve been unusually quiet. I’m really missing you!
I’m homesick, too. An idea of the two of us together again in New Orleans occurred to me in a passing thought. Now it consumes me!
I used to wonder what came first, you or happiness? Since we’ve been apart, the answer is so evident. My heart says they are indistinguishable.
Come home with me, Sal. Come home to me……….
Lola.”
October in New Orleans is a secret the locals like to keep from visitors. The city belongs to them for a few precious weeks. The beauty and grace of the city doesn’t require sharing. Reservations for favorite restaurants at a desired time are for the asking. The air has a freshness of renewal. All in all, it is a sublime time to go back home.
They were to meet at the Royal Inn, a Creole townhouse built in the 1830’s with hardwood floors, wrought iron balconies and antique furniture. Their room was on the second floor facing the street.
Lola turned the lock with her key and held the door open with her foot while jockeying her suitcase through the opening. It was surprising to find the French doors leading to the balcony already open and the gauze curtains billowing outward.
A few steps into the room and she knew that he had already been there. Her own senses were keen to his and she could smell the essence of him! It was always intoxicating!
On the bed lay a large box. A piece of hotel stationary was next to it. His familiar script sprawled across the page:
“Journey forward, Baby. Wear what’s in the box! I’m at the Port O’ Call. Let the pink wildflowers and your imaginations lead the way. Love, S.”
His clothes were already neatly hung in the armoire on the same side of the closet he would have chosen had it been the bed. Lola hummed happily as she hung her clothes beside his.
The box held a white dress with delicate pink wildflowers embroidered over the tufted bodice. The skirt was soft with accordion pleats. He had included a cream colored camisole to wear beneath. A floppy white hat and a new pair of sunglasses completed the package. Multi colored ribbons were tied to the frame of the sunglasses with a one-line note,
“L, this is so you can find them when you need them!”
She dressed for him! Added a touch of fragrance, her favorite and his, Yvonne LaFleur, a dab behind each ear and a trace between her breasts. By adding her sunglasses with the streamers still attached and her new hat, she was ready to stroll through her city.
She looked and felt like the epitome of a southern belle as she meandered from one window to another. The rhythms of the city lulled her. The buildings were painted vibrantly in pinks, purples, yellow, blues and greens. Yet, for this city, all of the colors seemed to blend so naturally. Ornate ironwork that adorned the balconies told historical stories for those that chose to listen. The flag that flew over Louisiana when that structure was first built would be revealed.
Louisiana was complicated. So was she.
One can smell the age of the city through the open doorways. It’s not offensive! It’s old!
Lola wandered into one apartment gate that had been left unlatched. The walkway was made of dark red brick that seemed to be totally unleveled. The cracks had a mossy green growth between each brick. An incredible multi-tiered patio fountain splashed down on the lush gardens. Ferns were everywhere! As she gazed upwards, every balcony from every side of the patio was full of greenery. Bougainvilleas, of magentas, orange, and dark pinks accented the shades of green. Some grew on trellises three stories high. Some balcony windows were strung in glass beads of brilliant colors to catch the sunrays and create a homemade rainbow.
On the very next corner a saxophone player leaned against the building. One foot rested up against the wall, he wore a jacket with disregard to the humidity, and his hair was pony-tailed and topped off with a black felt hat. His instrument case lay open at his feet for donations from those that appreciated his efforts of he mournfully shared his unique version of Amazing Grace.
Esplanade Avenue was there before she realized it. The smoke from the kitchen carried that wonderful aroma of burgers frying. Thick juicy burgers! Her salivary glands went to warp speed!
She was at that familiar weathered green door when the music spilled into the street. Hands down, the best jukebox she had ever experienced was on the other side of the door.
The sounds of Jim Morrison rocked on.
The place was crowded! It usually is! There is never a shortage of regulars. Her eyes had to adjust to the change in light when she first walked into the bar. The place is like and old mariners hang out. It’s conceivable to those who allow themselves to be dreamers to imagine that at one time it had been an ancient ship.
Sal was at the far end of the bar holding court, laughing, “passin’a good time” as we say here. He smiled and waved her over to him. Making her way slowly through the crowd it was evident there was not one empty seat.
Jonas was tending bar .He had become part of the establishment. Seeing him there was like seeing family. “Ain’t seen you in a long time, Sugar! Where ya been?”
“Hey, Jonas! I’ve missed you, too!” They hugged each other warmly.
“Lola! Come here!” Sal stood with his arms spread wide. The sparks that flew between the two of them was like a blazing furnace! She was like a wildfire! He was the source! She molded her body next to his and melted in his arms.
Sal introduced her to the group that stood around the bar. Most she had already knew. She was polite but impatient. Her desire was for his attention to be directed towards her.
The sultry sounds of Sara Vaughn played in the background.
