The Homecoming

Billie knew she looked a mess. Tailored black suit, designer shoes, and her hair pulled back into a perfect coif made for an interesting contrast to her smudged mascara and red eyes. Sweat pooled at the back of her neck, but she didn’t stop dancing to the thumping bass of the New Orleans bounce mix the DJ spun. An ancient air conditioner sat in the lone window of the small space, but it didn’t do much to cool any of them down.

Her hips moved in time with every turn of the beat. She and her dance partner hadn't sat down in at least thirty minutes. No names were exchanged, and she preferred it that way. She had a drink in one hand and the other raised as she sang along to the repetitive chorus. The man kept trying to whisper something in her ear, but Billie pushed him away each time. She wasn't there for conversation.

Talking had gotten her into enough trouble.

Darkness invaded every corner of the club. Blue lights flashed on and off from the ceiling; making every brown-skinned person in the small space appear to glow. The song ended the same time Billie sipped the last drop in her glass. She smiled at her dance partner and walked in a perfectly straight line back to the bar. She could always hold her liquor well.

The short woman behind the bar had an old-school Halle Berry haircut. Billie always wanted the courage to chop off her hair, but even at nearly forty, her mother’s rules of beauty were hard to break. She’d almost had a fit when Billie ditched the relaxers for her natural texture.

"Want another, bebe?" The bartender asked. It was the same New Orleans accent she'd been hearing all week. There was something comforting about it. It reminded Billie of some of the people she grew up with. East Texas and Louisiana might as well had been cousins.

"Yeah. Make it a whiskey this time."

"Bet."

Billie scrolled through her notifications as she waited for her drink. She had missed calls from her mom, dad, grandmother, and best friend. She was thankful her drink arrived before the guilt crept in again.

Her dance partner did a two-step over to her when the beat dropped on an old school song. The few women that were in the place jumped back on the dance floor and backed it up like they were twenty-one again.

"This ain't your song?" The man asked.

Billie looked him up and down and took a sip of her drink. "Not my speed anymore."

"So what’s your speed, girl?" He smiled and one of the blue lights caught his gold grill at the right moment. That usually wasn't Billie's speed either. But she'd made so many bad choices in the last year. What's one more, she thought.

"Well -" she started but cut herself off when her phone lit up with a FaceTime call from Justin. She figured her family had contacted him wondering if he’d heard from her. He wouldn’t want to talk to her otherwise. They hadn't spoken a word to each other in weeks. Maybe this is a sign, she thought. But she wasn’t in the right frame of mind to talk to him.

Her dancing partner cheesed at her with his gold-toothed smile. She ignored the call and put her phone into her small, clutch purse.

"Maybe another time." She patted him on the chest and ignored his eye roll as he went on the prowl for another woman to dance with. She closed out her tab with a hefty tip to the bartender.

#

Her suit jacket wasn’t up to par for the blistering cold that slammed into her as she stepped outside. The south was never known for cold weather; not even in January. Billie wasn’t impressed. While all the weathermen were excited about the arctic blast, Billie was craving heat. The appeal of long summers was one of the reasons she never left the South.

The rare weather phenomenon hadn’t stopped the tourists and natives from being out on a Saturday night. She was a few blocks from Bourbon Street, but the streets were filled with revelers with their drinks in their hands and the carefree energy that only New Orleans brings out in people.

Besides the cold, there was a mist that hung in the air. The light rain hit Billie’s face like pieces of jagged glass. The wind did her no favors either. Each hard breeze made her eyes tear up and her makeup smear even more. The sexiness she had felt while dancing in the club was all but gone. She paused to slip on a pair of dark sunglasses to give her eyes some kind of reprieve. Her sister always thought people who were sunglasses at night were assholes. That fit Billie perfectly at the moment.

She just wanted to get back to her hotel room and call it a night. She ducked her head down and walked as slow as she could on the cracked sidewalks. She thought about calling an Uber, but the hotel was only four blocks away from the club. Walking was easier than waiting for a car to eventually show up.

An older Black man wearing his best zoot suit walked past her with a woman in a shiny, sequined dress on his arm. He tipped his hat to her, and Billie smiled. He reminded her of her Great Uncle Clephus. She knew he was probably sitting in her grandmother’s parlor room saying the world was coming to an end because it was freezing across the whole south. She raised the sunglassed and wiped her eyes at the thought of her family. She didn’t want to admit how much she missed them and how she wished she hadn’t disappointed them all earlier in that day.

“Damn,” Billie yelped as a boom of thunder shook the sky followed by a bolt of lightning.

It gave the illusion that the sky was split in half. She picked up her pace trying to make it to her hotel before the sky erupted on everyone still outside. She remembered how her grandmother used to always say thunder and rain after a funeral was a good omen. It meant the deceased was being welcomed into heaven. Billie hadn’t really believed in heaven since she was in pigtails, but for once she hoped one of her grandmother’s old superstitions proved to be true.

Billie was halfway to her hotel when the rain changed from the light mist to an avalanche of ice-cold spears. She maneuvered as best she could in her heels, but expensive stilettos weren’t known for their non-slip grip. Just when she thought she’d fall face-first on the hard, wet pavement, someone gripped her upper arms and held her upright. Then they pushed her under an awning, giving her temporary relief from the rain.

Her body convulsed in chills as water dripped from every part of her. She turned to thank her savior but she was alone on the street. Everyone must have scattered when the rain started.

“Maybe whoever he was ran off,” she mumbled to herself as she looked up and down the street.

She desperately wanted to pull out the pack of cigarettes in her purse, but her hands were too cold and wet to grip anything. Her Granny would be disappointed if she knew Billie was back to smoking. She’d promised to never smoke again when she was caught firing up a Newport in the 11th grade. She’d kept that promise until six months ago. Life had a way of making a liar out of you.

Billie contemplated whether to stay under the awning to hide from the rain or make a mad dash to her hotel. Neither choice sounded ideal. The loud rang of a church bell vibrated through her body before she could make a decision. She just then noticed a Catholic church across the street from where she stood.

It stood taller than the other buildings. The white paint seemed illuminated as the rain slacked and the mist reappeared. Before Billie thought about what she was doing, she rushed across the street and up the cement stairs. She had a hard time pushing the wooden doors open, but once inside she sighed in relief because there was heat pumping through the lobby.

The sanctuary was empty except for two people. Both looked to be deep in prayer. Though she wasn’t raised Catholic - even though her Daddy’s people were members of the only Black Catholic Church in their county – Billie was always fascinated by the stained-glass windows. She loved how the rainbow of colors fit together like a puzzle. It felt as if God placed secret codes to life in those windows and he was waiting for everyone to figure it out.

Billie walked as quietly as she could down the aisle, well aware of the water that puddle at her feet with every step. At the head of the sanctuary was the thing she didn’t like about coming into a Catholic church. A huge statue of Jesus nailed to the cross stood high and mighty. Jesus was carved in gold and almost looked life-like as his head hung low and his limbs were strapped down. On the left side of the stage stood a smaller - yet equally disturbing to her - pieta of a grieving Virgin Mary holding the lifeless body of her son. She knew the crucifixion was the foundation of Christianity, but it never failed that any depiction of it made her skin crawl. It made her feel as if every believer worshiped death and suffering.

She was used to long Sundays in her mama's Baptist church. That she could handle. Having to sit in these hard pews while Jesus’ dead body stood over you, with his sacrifice on full display, made even the thought of sin seem like a betrayal on par with Judas. It was too much pressure. Though Baptist or Catholic really didn't matter to Billie. She hadn’t believed any stories of a big man in the sky dictating your life in a long time.

It looked to be over a hundred candles burning at the altar. Each candle was dressed with a saint’s name and depiction of said saint. There was one candle, with St. Peter’s face staring back at her, unlit. Billie knelt down and lit the candle with a silent prayer. She kissed the tips of her fingers and rubbed them down the center of the candle.

“Safe journey, Josie,” she whispered. She tried to feel some type of connection but there was only darkness.

Shoes squeaked against the hard floors. Without looking up she knew it was the priest. They were always hovering around willing to help those in need. With her club attire and sloppy wetness, she probably looked like she needed to account for many sins.

She stood to greet him and was surprised by his youthful appearance and the spry in his step. His light skin complimented his red hair - with matching freckles and beard - well. He had solemn yet kind eyes.

"Anything I can help you with?" He asked. His voice was deeper than she expected.

Billie shook her head. “No, just needed…something.” The truth was Billie didn’t know why she had walked into the church. Whatever she was looking for didn’t seem to be within those walls though.

He nodded. "You seemed like something is heavy on your mind. A confession might help. It doesn't have to be with me. There are many great parishes in this city."

Billie snorted with her slight laugh. "If I confess, we'd be here all day. Thank you, Father, but I’ll pass.”

She walked back down the aisle, then paused. If was as if her feet wouldn’t let her make another step unless she asked the question that felt burning in her soul. She turned back to the priest who still stood in the middle of the aisle watching her.

“I do have one question, Father,” she said.

He gestured for her to sit on one of the pews. “Of course.”

“I don’t want to damage your pew. As you can see, I’m soaked to the bone.” She moved her hand in the air up and down her body.

He smiled at her. “We’ve had worse enter our sanctuary. Besides water won’t damage these pews anymore than they already are. What I should have done was offer you a blanket. Forgive me. Let me go get you one.”

Billie waiting as he rushed to the back and then returned in less that a minute with an old yet thick and comfortable blanket. She wrapped it around her shoulders and sat in the the third row of pews. “Well...” she started then lost her courage.

The priest sat silently, giving her the time she needed to get her thoughts together.

“Well,” she started again, “I attended church a lot as a child. Sunday school, vacation bible school, everything. We always learned that God rewards those who follow his law. So why would he take a way someone who was so good? Why would he take her while she was still so young and had so much to offer the world? Especially when so much evil is still allowed to fester.” Once she got going the words had rushed out of her mouth. She took a deep breath as she waited for the priest to respond.

His lips upturned in a small smile as he nodded. “That’s an oldie but a goodie. God has his reasons. It’s not up to us to question his ways. All will make sense to us one day.”

Billie rolled her eyes. “Right. No offense, but that sounds like a cop-out.”

“I can see how you would think that, but none of us on earth have all the answers or know God’s plan.”

“Then why become a priest if you can’t speak on all of God’s plans.”

“Because I was called. Because I couldn’t imagine being anything else. Haven’t you ever felt a deep calling you couldn’t shake?”

Billie clutched the blanket tighter around her. “Yeah, but it didn’t quite work out for me.”

“Maybe that wasn’t your true calling. Maybe you were meant to do something else.”

Billie grimaced. “I’m too old to change. No new tricks for me.”

The priest smiled at her. “You’d be surprised at how often God calls on those who thought they had life figured out.”

“Hmm,” was all Billie said.

“I specialize in spiritual crises. I’m always here to help navigate you to the answers you seek.”

“That may be a bit hard as I live in Miami.”

He pulled a card from his pocket. “Then I’m only an email away.”

Billie’s lips raised slightly and she turned her head to the side as she took the card. “The Catholic Church does email counseling now?”

“We have to keep up with the times.” He chuckled. There was a warmness in him that Billie found herself drawn to. It may have just have been that it had been so long since she felt someone was actually listening to her instead of putting words in her mouth.

She noticed the name on the card. “Father Alexander Thibodeaux ?”

“Most people just call me Father Alex.”

“Thibodeaux is a pretty common Creole name. You wouldn’t happen to have any cousins that live in Blessings, Texas?”

He clapped his hands together. “Well, how about that. Some of my people do live in Blessings. My uncle lives there. He’s a reverend at the Methodist church.”

“Reverend Thibodeaux is your uncle?”

“Yep, that’s my Uncle Theo.”

“Small world.”

“Or a divine meeting.”

Billie slipped the blanket off her shoulders and stood. “You religious types don’t quit with your preaching.”

He stood also. “The good word never sleeps. I hope I provided you with at least a little bit of comfort tonight.”

Billie touched his arm then pulled back her hand as if she touched something forbidden. She didn’t think it was appropriate for her to touch a man of God in any way. She already had enough problems without feeling the wrath of a God she wasn’t sure she believed in.

“You did…a little,” she said.

He nodded. “Good. The rain seems to have slacked off, but you’re welcome to stay here as long as you like.”

“I appreciate the offer, but I should be going.”

“If I’m ever in Blessing, I’ll be sure to look you up…” He trailed off and Billie realized he was fishing for her name.

“Billie. My name is Billie Daniels. And I probably won’t be in Blessings any time soon.”

“Well, ok Billie Daniels. With everything that’s going on in Blessings I may need to make a trip soon to help out my uncle if the Archbishop allows.”

Billie furrowed her brow. “What’s going on in Blessings?”

“My uncle is just having a slight problem with his daughters. I pray sincerely every night that it all works out.”

“If I was a praying woman I would too.”

“It’s never too late to start a new relationship with the Almighty.”

Billie secured her purse under her arm. “Still not looking for any new tricks. Thank you for your time, Father.”

#

The rain was all but gone, but the wind was even stronger than before. A few stragglers were on the street, still brave enough to fight the coldness. Billie pulled out the cigarettes and lighter in her purse; thankful the rain hadn’t soaked them. At the end of the block a tall man played a shiny, gold trumpet. It was a slow, mournful tune. Seems appropriate, Billie thought.

Puffs of smoke blew through her hair as the branches of the trees that lined the street swayed unison. She tossed a couple dollars in the opened trumpet case as the player’s feet when she reached him. He stopped playing and gave her a nod in acknowledgment.

"Thank you, ma'am. Could I trouble you for a cigarette?" Her wore dark shades though it was nearly 2:00 am and was dressed in black jeans, black boots, and a black Southern University sweatshirt. He was completely dry as if the rain had done no harm to him.

"Sure.” She pulled out another cigarette from her pack. “Isn't it a bit cold and wet for you to be out here?"

"Oh, the cold never made me no never mind. My people are built strong. Sturdy."

She offered him the lighter, but he shook his head and tucked the cigarette into his jeans front pocket. “Just needed a bit of tobacco for later.”

"Alright then,” Billie said. She looked behind and they were still the only people of the street. Logically she knew that she should have some fear of being a lone woman with a strange man, but she didn’t feel threatened by him.

“What song were you playing? It’s beautiful.” She asked. Something about the song nagged at a memory buried deep in her brain.

“It’s a song of mourning to help the spirits find their way to the promise land.”

“That’s what you decide to play in these early morning hours?”

“Figured somebody always mourning something in these streets. And N’awlins gotta lot spirits wandering around. Both good and bad.”

Billie took one last puff of cigarette before dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with the ball of her heels.

“Sounds about right,” she said. She put a few more dollars in his case. “You have a good night.”

“Thank you. ma’am.”

The man began playing his trumpet again. The song followed Billie as she walked the last block back to her hotel. Her eyes watered. She wasn't sure if it was from the cold or sorrow. Sorrow at everything that was happening in her life. And now the person that she used to be able to tell everything to was gone.