Chapter 14
The boat skimmed along at an even pace across the smooth, placid water of the Atchafalya River. Storm clouds are building on the western horizon. Hues of pink and purple take the place of the late afternoon sun. The dull gray clouds outlined against the pale blue sky with fiery silver. Gold beams peek from behind the clouds. Trees of lightning flash out of the bottoms of the clouds as they move along the open Gulf. A subtle breeze threatening to become stronger as the clouds near.
There are four people in this particular boat. Jenn wouldn't allow Gemma to ride with me. Instead there is a rather large Creole driving the boat, his twin brother guiding us toward our final destination, and Marie B. Marie actually begged Jenn to be allowed to ride with me. She seemed to take great pleasure in my hands being cuffed behind my back. She seemed to like pushing a small silver pistol in my kidneys to prod me along. I have never felt so helpless in my life.
Our final destination is unknown to me. But one thing I am certain of is that I will probably not be coming back. That was made quite plain by Jenn when she ordered us put on these boats. I guess Laurie won't be coming back either. She is one of three occupants of the second boat. Her along with the Creole monsters' triplet and quadruplet brothers and Kayla. Who I assume is performing the same job Marie is performing with me. The third boat holds Jenn, two other associates, and Gemma Rox. Gemma's beautiful face is marred with tear stains.
The really odd thing is everyone but Laurie and I are fully dressed. Take Marie B for instance. She is wearing a cute little sun dress. She looks adorable in sandals! Her hair pulled back in pigtails. She looks like a teenager out for a boat ride on a Saturday afternoon. Truth be told, she is a sadist of the worst order. I know she has begged to be the one to end me. I also know deep in my heart that she dressed like a Sunday School pixie on purpose. She will thrive herself on the irony and fear in my eyes during the final moments. Laurie and I, on the other hand, are wearing bikinis. The one I am wearing was plucked from my apartment. One of my favorites. A red cloth bandanna pattern. I love this one. It's unfortunate I will have to die in it. I caught a glimpse of Laurie's as she was being loaded on the boat. A cute Indian pattern with brown, tan, green, and yellow highlights. A really beautiful creation...one she looks terrific wearing.
The boat hits more chop as we move into a wide, long bay and head toward mudflats on the far side. The wind picks up, blowing in from due west. Spray stings my cheeks as I try to crouch from the wind behind one of the dark-skinned behemoths in the front of the boat. The clouds finally obscure the sun completely and it suddenly feels like the very air is closing around me sealing my fate. Tears stream down my cheeks as I think about my family.
My family has always been pretty much a mess for as long as I can remember. There is my mother, whom you have met, who played the roll of family mental case. Every family has one. My sister, Lindsay, is most likely the sanest among us, but she has her moments. Like the time she pinned my shoulders to the ground and my cousin made me eat a clump of dirt. Lindsay has little to do with me. She is an attorney living in Hattiesburg, MS. My other sister, Lacey, is another of our family nutcases. She has been in and out of jail since she was a teenager. Her most recent brush with the law was due to her marital home burning to the ground under mysterious circumstances. Her soon to be ex-husband narrowly escaped with his life. Odd that I wasn’t involved in that one, huh? Both my sisters are older. I also have a brother I don’t mention much. He joined the Army out of high school and served until the day he was killed by a roadside bomb in Iraq. I don’t like to talk about him much.
My family is abnormal by most standards. However, they are very normal by south Louisiana standards.
Have I ever told you about my father? I don’t think I have. I don’t talk much about him either. I am basically his namesake. Ol’ John’s shadow. John Jr. Or as it happens I couldn’t take his name, John-ica….or Jonica (shortened to Joni). A chip off the old block. Not the biggest golfer on the course, nor the strongest, but I could reach the par 5’s in regulation most of the time. I learned to be a good ball-striker. Keeping the ball in play and being a demon around the greens was the name of my game. I couldn’t hit the 275 yard drives, but the big hitters always got their feelings hurt when I carded a birdie to their par or bogey.
I learned to play patient golf from my father.
Don’t know how it is You looked at me
And saw the person that I could be
Awakening my heart
Breaking through the dark
Suddenly Your grace
My father is a true Arkansas peckerwood. He grew up in the piney flats just outside Marion, near the Mississippi River in a time much different than now. He came from a simple world where one didn’t worry about war…although war would become a driving factor in his later life. The most important thing around his hometown was high school football. He became the local hero who rode his accolades to a scholarship at Arkansas State University. It was there he met a Ragin’ Cajun cheerleader from the University of Louisiana at Lafayette. As fate would have it, they fell in love and married shortly after they graduated. He left Arkansas to start a new life in Acadiana with his bride. Before long, however, the Vietnam War came calling and he was drafted into the United States Marine Corps. Serving as an officer during the Tet Offensive, he saw some of the most vicious fighting of the war during the Battle of Huế. He came home in 1969 and many said he was never the same. A few even said it was there he picked up the drug habit that would eventually end his life. Of course, I didn’t know him then. I came along almost 11 years later.
My father, who was a natural golfer with a perfect swing, took a job as a local golf pro and instructor. It was he who taught me to play the game. He could have played on the PGA Tour, but he chose a steady home life over the travel rigors a life on tour would have brought.
My father loved all his children, but he told my mother he would spoil the last one beyond belief. He did this in spades. I firmly believe this is one of the reasons I never really got along with my mother. I think she was a little jealous of the time he and I spent together. At the time, it didn’t bother me. I was the apple of my daddy’s eye, and I was his Lil’ Jewel. While my mother and my sisters made fun of my small stature, my father always taught “keeping it in the fairway.” He taught me to play fast and smart. His favorite baseball analogy was, “Don’t swing for the fence….just put it in play and run like the wind.”
Not only did I play golf with that strategy, I lived life under that theory as well.
The boat bounced aground on a small mudflat while the motor hissed out of the water. The passenger twin hopped out and pulled the bow ashore and tied a line to the a small tree. I start to stand up...already consigned to my fate. I knew this was the end. I hadn't thought about my father...except in my dreams...in years. But Marie B puts her hand on my shoulder and pulls me back down. She is looking at the side of my face but I refuse to look at her. Why should I give my soon-to-be executioner any satisfaction? Instead I think of my father again.
Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so
Beautiful, beautiful
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so
Beautiful, beautiful
When I was a little girl, I would literally follow my father like a shadow. Everywhere he went, I went to. I would throw little tantrums whenever I couldn't go somewhere with him (imagine that, huh?). I was the tomboy of the family. He taught me how to bait a line, hunt piney-wood deer in the scrub lands, fix a broken boat moter, navigate a pirogue, kick men in the balls (I practiced on my brother a couple times), and generally take care of myself. My father also taught me the power of devotion and faith. Believe it or not, I was a devote Catholic until my seventeenth Christmas (or the day I lost my faith). But I will talk more about that later.
The other boat pulls onto the mudflat and the third creole beast ties off the bow. When all the help are on dry land, Marie prods me between the shoulders to make me stand up. I get to my feet and glare at her. For a moment, I think about ramming my shoulder into her nose and knocking her into the river, but one of the Creole's grabs my shoulders and almost lifts me onto dry land. Marie smirks because she knows I missed my chance. Oddly enough, she makes no move to get onto dry land. Chickenshit bitch must be afraid of snakes or gators, I think to myself.
I hear a commotion behind me and turn to see the same play being acted out from the other boat. Laurie is lifted onto the mudflat. The third boat's motor cuts off as it nears the flat, and the slosh of oars drifts across the rippling water as the boat is steered onto the flat. Neither Gemma nor Jenn make a move to get out of the boat. For some reason, Gemma refuses to look at me. Instead, she keeps her eyes locked on a point between her feet on the bottom of the boat. Jenn, however, makes a motion, and suddenly one of the giants frees my wrists.
My shoulders slump slightly as I am lightly pushed from behind and led to the middle of the small mudflat. My bare toes slosh across the muck and mire, but I don't sink in. My eyes look around sharply for water moccasins sunning on the flat, but fortunately I don't see any. There are wallows and footprints left by gators, but fortunately there are none of those around either. Turning to take in my surroundings, I am suddenly struck by the natural beauty of my home state in all of it's magnificent glory. The sun is peeking through the deep purple clouds building thicker in the west threatening to completely seal off the sun. The steel gray water is now white capping in the strengthening breeze as it sweeps in off the Gulf. Egrets dip and dive in their endless search for small fish feeding near the surface. The temperature, while still tropical and warm, has dropped since the wind picked up.
Now there’s a joy inside I can’t contain
But even perfect days can end in rain
And though it’s pouring down
I see You through the clouds
Shining on my face
If I had ever been told to choose a hero, I would have said my father. It may be cliché, but he really is the one person I worshiped. If I was sick, he would baby me back to health. If I was hurting, he would take away the pain (or the person causing the pain...my high school flames were terrified of him). If my mother picked on me too much, he was always there to focus her wrath elsewhere. He really did fulfill his promise to spoil me. He actually turned me into a whiny, self-centered, brat with a mind all my own. I think that is why my mother resented me so much. There were times I would catch her staring at me as if she wanted to mash my skull, toss me in the bayou, and start over. It was best not to get on her bad side at these times. But dad was always there to keep her grounded too. You know, looking back on it, I think much of the animosity I had for my own mother was a little jealousy on my part. As much as he showered me with attention, he doubled it for her. She really was the Queen of his Double wide Trailer. He doted on her and she on him. I also believe that she secretly despised me for the for the very same reason. We were vying for my father's attention...albeit for very different reasons.
I turn and face away from the boats on purpose. I have no idea what Laurie is doing, even though she is only two feet away, right beside me. The wind at my back, I close my eyes and allow my hair to blow around my neck and shoulders. I refuse to look at them. If they are going to shoot me, they will have to shoot me in the back. Laurie hasn't said anything since we left Jenn's office. I'm fairly certain she knows what is coming too, and I guess she has steeled herself for it. She told me she has Sioux blood in her, so maybe she is immune to fear. I know she is off-balanced...maybe it has to do with her heritage.
I look down at my barefeet and watch a tear fall as if in slow motion into the thick mud around my toes. What would my father say if he saw me at this point in my life? What would he think of me? I know he expected so much more from me.
Jenn's voice sounds like a bullhorn as it wafts across the mudflat on the breeze. I cannot believe what I am hearing. But even I have to admit she is being fair. As fair as she can be anyway. It seems she is tired of Laurie and me being at each others' throats.
“I am leaving you two here. A boat will be sent back after sundown to pick one of you up. I will let you two decide who leaves. I think that is the best way for this to be handled.”
With that, the three boats start up and before Laurie and I can react, they are gone. We are left alone on a small mudflat in the Atchafalya River. A space so small it could never be mistaken for a mangrove island. As a matter of fact, there are no mangroves on the flat. Only mud, rocks, a few brittle reeds, and us.
The wind picks up and blows against our almost bare bodies.
Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so
Beautiful, beautiful
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so
Beautiful, beautiful
My father always wanted me to grow up to be a model citizen. He wanted that for all his kids, but it seemed to be a little more so for me. I never had a boyfriend that was good enough. My grades were only adequate unless I made straight A's. I had to pick and choose my friends carefully. I guess having a Marine for a father would be difficult enough, but having one who doted on everything you did was especially tough. Therefore I became a perfectionist. That's how he wanted everything, perfect. I did my best to live that way for 17 years. Then one day my life changed forever.
I will never forget where I was when I heard the news. I was sitting in World History, 5th period, at Iberia Central High School. I was called to the office where I was informed my father had been found dead of an apparent drug overdose. You know, it's funny looking back on it, I can't remember walking to the office. I don't have a clue what I was thinking as I made my way to the place where my life would change forever. I vaguely recall the next few days. I do, however, remember the funeral very well. Not a night goes by that I don't wake to the sound of a 21 gun salute echoing somewhere in the night. The faint chords of taps being played by a lonely bugle off in the distance. I sometimes speak to my father. I can hear his voice in the rhythm of the falling rain. This is why I crave rain wind, and lightning. I feel safe in storms.
Thunder rumbles in the distance and the sounds of the boats fades into the watery silence. The wind blows my hair wildly as I turn to face Laurie for the first time. She looks just as bewildered and as stunned as I do, but I can tell she is recovering better than I am from the initial shock.
“So I guess it's time for you to pay for what you did in South Dakota.” Laurie says in a voice so low the words are nearly lost on the wind. I bite my lip and remain silent. Looking into her eyes, I suddenly remember in vivid detail what happened in South Dakota. My lips part and I start to say something, but Laurie cuts me off, “Don't even. I have dreamed of this moment since then. Don't steal this moment from me.”
I don't know why, nor do I think I will ever be able to explain my feelings if ever asked, but at this moment, I hate Laurie for all she represents. This is my world, and she invaded it. She is on the verge of being able to take away what is left of my wrecked life. Although I am fairly sure that even of I walk out of here, nothing will ever be the same. I have no job, Gemma has wiped her hands of me, I am probably wanted all over southeast Louisiana, and there is no doubt I will be the subject of a hit if I do manage to escape today. But even with all of that on me, I can hardly contain my growing hatred for this woman from the Badlands. I want nothing more than to completely destroy her at this very moment.
Now there’s a joy inside I can’t contain
But even perfect days can end in rain
And though it’s pouring down
I see You through the clouds
Shining on my face
My mother will never admit it in public, but she blames me for my father's death. I will never admit it to anyone but her...I blame her. But we have ironed out our differences and put that behind us. Many people claim he committed suicide because of all the pressures he put on himself. No one could ever really tell if he meant to take the hotshot that ended his life. I don't like to dwell on the thought.
My first punch strikes Laurie in the ribs just under her left breast. The next one glances off her right cheek, but that doesn't keep me from charging her as she falls backwards, caught off guard. My feet make a slight sucking noise in the thick, wet mud. My toes squish as I storm toward her. My body slams into hers and we begin to fall backwards when my arms loop under her thighs and lift upwards. I feel pretty good about my initial attack, but as I said earlier, Laurie comes from warrior heritage. Before she lands on her back in the thick muck, her right fist drives upwards into my chin. We land with a wet, fleshy slap in the mud and begin clawing like two wildcats fighting for control.
Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so
Beautiful, beautiful
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so
Beautiful, beautiful
My life after my father's death has been marred by one train wreck after another. Many of those disasters I have documented for you, but there were many, many more. I couldn't hold down a steady job. I was in and out of jail. I began my own descent into the dark, hellish world of drug abuse. I shunned...and was later ostracized from...my own family. I lost friends that I had had since I was a small child. My poor hair was dyed so many different colors that at one point I actually couldn't remember my natural hair color. I dressed the part of Goth pixie. Hell, I acted the part of Goth pixie. Things came to a head one night in front of a Vieux Carre pit club. One of the few friends I had left got into a fight with another girl. One of the other girl's friends jumped on my friend as well. Now I have never claimed to be much of a fighter, but I often got into fights...especially during this phase. I was on a first name basis with may emergency room staffs. But I couldn't allow my friend to get hurt. I jumped in the fight to help my friend.
Have you ever had a moment of absolute stupidity work in your favor so much that things actually start going your way? Well, the girl I jumped on beat the living shit out of me. She beat me so badly, I had to have five stitches in my forehead. I had to go to the hospital in an ambulance. I even got a concussion from being rammed head first into a brick wall. The only thing that saved me that night was the New Orleans Police showing up. I went to the emergence room, my friend and the other two girls went to jail. Later that night, a handsome police officer came to the ER to get my statement and a condition update. He ended up asking me on a date. Why I will never be able to explain. I looked like death warmed over! A part of my purple hair had been shaved so the gash could be treated. My nose and one cheek was swollen, and I was caked with blood and gutter muck. But he still thought I was attractive enough to ask on a date. That police officer's name was Joe. We would spend the next nine years together.
I roll off Laurie into the warm mud and duck my chin to try and avoid her follow up punch and I narrowly escape what could have been a fight-ender right there. The warm mud threatens to envelope me and I roll to my knees while shaking my head to clear it. My body and the mud making a sucking sound. Laurie is on her knees by this time and neither of us bother with throwing a punch this time. We lunge forward and slap together body to body with a loud smack. We drop onto our sides and I shove my right palm under her chin just in time to keep her snapping teeth from clamping on my windpipe.
“You filthy bitch!” I hiss while shoving her face back. She replies by growling and grabbing my left boob with her right hand and twisting violently.
I have come undone
But I have just begun
Changing by Your grace
Before Joe came along, I never dreamed I would have been able to get over my father's death. In many ways, I don't think I really ever did get over it. Life became normal again, and for nine years, all was perfect. Well, as perfect as it could be for two of life's walking wounded. But I learned nothing was ever perfect the hard way. Along came Gemma, Kitten, and now Laurie. And along with that came a burning desire for revenge. Gemma and I have been in a running battle for ever it seems. Kitten and I aren't near finished...if I can manage to get off this mudflat, that is. But right now, I can focus on Laurie. I want nothing more that to hold her face deep in the dark, think mud until she can no longer move. Especially now that I have lost everything. Now that I have last Joe.
Like sunlight burning at midnight
Making my life something so
Beautiful, beautiful
Mercy reaching to save me
All that I need
You are so
Beautiful, beautiful
I grab Laurie's hair and yank back while pushing on her chin. My hands completely occupied now, I thrust my forehead forward and hammer it into where I think her nose should be. Unfortunately for me, she has forced her head forward as much as she can and we hit forehead to forehead with a dull thunk.
Lights explode in my head and I drop onto my butt in the warm muck. Mud slips inside my bikini bottoms and invades my booty crack and kitty, but that is the least of my worries at the moment. Laurie is getting to her feet and she has a murderous look on her face. She stumbles toward me and I lash out with my left foot and kick her under the right knee. She trips forward but she also throws a wild hook as she lands on her knees with a splash. The punch sinks into my side, knocking the wind from me. My ribs feel like the are on fire. As I fall onto my side, I grab for her hair and yank her forward. My legs lift on either side of her. As badly as I am hurting from the punch, I still want to feel my body squeezing the life from her.
To be continued......
