Aunt Viv
Thirsty Work — Chapter 15: you never told me you were rich!
Two young women from California travel to New Orleans in search of redemption after the death of their mother. Carolee thinks she will show her little sister the world, but what they find in the barrooms of the French Quarter at Mardi Gras is more than she knows how to handle, or could have imagined back home. This is the fifteenth chapter of the novel Thirsty Work.
Waking up the next morning was easier. My head ached a little, but the rest of my body felt fine. There was a warm, stretched out feeling to my muscles, as if I’d been exercising. All in all, I guessed drinking heavily really wasn’t bad for me. I felt confident, cocky, possessed of a charming secret. A pleasure center at the back of my brain was switched on.
As I looked around the front room, I was pleased to see my little sister was still in her sleeping bag beside me. She hadn’t yet deserted me for the tattooed thug on the couch. Everyone seemed to be in their proper places. Three pairs of pink feet poked out from beneath the blankets on Doug’s bed in the next room. Howard huddled under his sleeping bag in a corner of ours. Stan and Peter had found places on the floor beneath the flat’s two small windows, the blaze of day painting bright bars across their shoulders. Our clan was growing. I felt maternal and proud.
“Hey Cathy,” I jostled my sleeping sister. A thick strand of blond hair lodged between her lips. With one arm flung to one side, she looked off kilter, almost broken, like a carnival doll some child had cast off after dislodging her arm or ripping her dress.
I checked my watch. It was almost eleven. “Hey Cathy, it’s morning,” I nudged her shoulder again, chasing the doll image out of my mind.
“Go away. I don’t care if it’s morning.” She turned away from me.
“But Cathy, we’re supposed to be at Aunt Viv’s house in an hour. Remember? We made a date for noon.”
She groaned.
“Look, I’m going to go take a shower. You can rest here. But in about 15 minutes, you’re going to have to get up and get ready. OK?”
She groaned again.
The route to Aunt Viv’s place was surprisingly lush and pleasant. Map in hand, we drove down Rampart Street to Canal, crossing the broad central avenue into a classier neighborhood with big, detached houses and expansive lawns. The sun was warmer here. The sidewalks weren’t greasy. We drove several blocks without seeing a bar.
“Turn left on Poydras,” Cathy held the map and navigated while I drove — as always. She thought she was grown up at 16, but I still owned the car, and driving it gave me the authority I knew I’d need when it was time to leave New Orleans and head back home. I pretended to pay attention to Cathy’s directions, even though I’d memorized the route when she was in the shower. “Take a right on Magazine.”
When we finally found the address, we were mildly astonished to see a big, white, two-story mansion. There was a wraparound porch and columns. A wrought iron fence surrounded the lush lawn. I let out a long whistle. “Jesus. This is a lot fancier than I expected.”
“Yeah,” Cathy nodded, dumbfounded. “I thought Aunt Viv was supposed to be some kind of bum! I guess Grandma Lillian has been lying to us?”
“I guess…” I nodded, perplexed. “Or maybe Viv just hasn’t told her mother that she’s rich? I don’t think they’ve talked for years.” We both laughed nervously. Neither moved to get out of the car.
I pulled down the visor and checked my face in the mirror. My skin looked pasty. My freckles like a disease. “Do I look hungover?” I turned to Cathy. “Do I smell like whiskey? Is there dust in my hair?”
“No. Not at all,” Cathy smiled at me with what felt like affection. “You look good Carolee! You look like a fine, upstanding citizen.”
“Hah! Well, it’s a good thing that I don’t look how I feel.” We laughed together and something inside me unclenched. It had been awhile since we’d done that.
“You look good, too, Cathy.” We sat for a shy moment. Maybe we should just skip meeting Aunt Viv and leave for California now, I thought. It’s not like we left anything important at Doug’s place. But I was dreaming. There was no excuse. What would I tell Cathy? That I’d rather be swimming in a slough back in Stockton than here at Mardi Gras in New Orleans? It was ridiculous. Besides, I knew Cathy wouldn’t come.
We got out of the car and went up the walkway together, like a slightly mortified pair of kindergarteners on their first day of school. The porch was spotless. The big, heavy, green door had a huge brass knocker, but I pushed the doorbell. We heard the chiming inside and looked at each other expectantly. The day seemed strangely quiet. There was no traffic on the street. No sound of people talking. Just one saucy bird mocking us from the driveway. The air was damp and still.
Then the door swung open with a rush and a beautiful black-haired woman welcomed us with a brilliant smile. “Well, hello!” she said in a warm honey voice that drew me instantly to her, made me want to burrow under her arm. “You must be my two beautiful nieces Cathy and Carolee. Let me look at you!” She put her hands on my shoulders first and turned me from side to side, like an item of clothing she was considering at a department store, making a decision about whether to buy. She seemed pleased with the merchandise, and I felt a bubble of pride in my chest.
“I haven’t seen you since you were just so high! Just a couple of newborn kittens! And now — just look at you! — now you’re all grown up!” Her voice buffeted us with so much enthusiasm that I almost stumbled backward off the porch. Now she was holding Cathy’s delicate chin in her hands. “And so beautiful! Imagine! But listen to me chattering away while you’re standing out here on the doorstep. Come in! Come inside! Welcome to my humble home!”
Aunt Viv turned abruptly and swept down a big hall, Cathy and I trailing her wake. She led us to a pretty parlor where she motioned for us to sit on an antique sofa.
“Now what can I get you?” she asked. “Lemonade? Soda? Cold beer? What time is it? Noon? A screwdriver, perhaps?” She cocked her head to one side and dramatically winked. “Or maybe you’re hungry? Would you like a sandwich? Some cookies? Just let me know what you’re in the mood for. I have everything here.”
“Lemonade sounds good to me,” I said.
“I’ll take a soda,” Cathy smiled. “Thanks.”
“Coming right up.” Aunt Viv wafted off to the kitchen, leaving us alone together on the brown velvet couch with a carved wooden frame.
“She looks like mom,” Cathy whispered. “Only…prettier.”
“She does.”
“What does Grandma Lillian have against her, again?”
“I don’t know.”
“She seems wonderful! She’s so friendly. Why didn’t we ever talk about her? I hardly know anything about her!” Cathy was squeezing the edge of a small satin pillow, the skin taut across her small, bony knuckles.
“Grandma never really said what the problem was. Neither did Mom, for that matter. But I think Viv ran away when she was pretty young.” I looked around at the thick, white curtains against the sparkling clean window, the small porcelain figures on a deep red, mahogany table. There was a boy playing a drum. A man and woman sitting on a bench, holding hands. A little dog.
Aunt Viv wafted back into the room with three drinks on a silver serving tray. “Now tell me, what have the two of you done in New Orleans so far?” she asked as she handed out the refreshments. I had a tall glass of pale yellow lemonade. Cathy got a short brown bottle of root beer and a glass full of ice. Aunt Viv had a tall glass of orange juice. “You haven’t been going to those dangerous bars down in the Quarter, have you?”
I gave Cathy a look.
Aunt Viv stared at me intently, then threw back her head and laughed. “I’m just kidding! The look on your face! Priceless!”
We had planned to stay for an hour, but we ended up spending the whole afternoon. Aunt Viv kept us entertained with funny stories about her neighbors and friends. I wanted to ask her about our family. About her childhood. About my mother. I wanted to know why she had moved so far from California and what exactly she’d done to make Grandma Lillian mad. But whenever I was able to interject a question, she just let it settle on the couch beside me, unanswered. “You don’t want to hear about the past. That’s boring!” When I mentioned Mom’s funeral she looked me in the eye and said she was sorry that she couldn’t make it. Then she asked about us.
Viv was interested in everything. She wanted to know about our trip, the route we took to get here, where we stayed and who we met along the way. She wanted to know what Doug was like and what he’d shown us in New Orleans. She asked which bars we’d been to and made a pronouncement about each one. “That’s a dive. You girls stay away from there.” Or, “That’s a pretty good place to hear music.” She wanted to know about our living arrangements, and though I balked, I wound up telling her everything. She didn’t seem to disapprove. On the contrary. She seemed to think a crash pad with bodies littering the floor was a great way to experience Mardi Gras. “You young people sure know how to have fun!”
It wasn’t until we were on our way out the door that I realized we hadn’t met her husband. “Where’s Uncle Norman?” I asked.
She stopped for a beat and then rolled her eyes. “He’s at the bank. As usual. He never comes home!” she gave a short, barking laugh. “You could camp here for a year and you’d probably never meet my husband. That man isn’t happy unless he’s counting other people’s money.”
“I don’t see how he could forget to come home to someone like you,” I said, then blushed mightily. Aunt Viv cocked her pretty head and gave me another big, brilliant smile.
“Well tell him hello for us,” Cathy said.
“Oh, I will. Of course I will! Now drive safely and don’t forget to call me soon. In fact, why don’t you call me tomorrow? I want to show you two around the Quarter. This Doug fellow sounds like he doesn’t know a thing about my city!”
Cathy and I hadn’t planned to spend a lot of time with Aunt Viv on this trip, just make an obligatory visit so we could report back to the family. But now I found I couldn’t resist her charms. I looked over at Cathy. She nodded helplessly and gave a little shrug. “Okay. We’ll call around noon,” I promised. Aunt Viv put her arm around my neck and pulled my cheek next to hers. She gave me a moist kiss right next to my earlobe that sent a thrill down my breastbone.
“It’s wonderful to see you,” she whispered emphatically, the deep sound of her voice vibrating my ear. Then she turned to Cathy. But I still had my arm around her waist and didn’t let go. My nose had been pressed into her soft neck for one long moment. She smelled like Chanel №5 — the perfume Mom always dabbed behind her ears and on the inside of each wrist before she and Daddy went out on the town. The fragrance filled me. It mesmerized me. Viv smelled of Mom.
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