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"The public will be our guests. Parents, family members, friends, will all have their eyes on you, on us. It is incumbent upon us to put on our best faces."
I turned and saw Jacques Bascomb put his tongue under his upper lip so he resembled a monkey. It was hard to believe that some of the boys in my class would be out working and raising families in less than a year's time.
School ended after the morning session so we could all go home and get into our graduation clothes. When I arrived and found Mama setting up tables for our guests outside, I knew Daddy had not returned yet.
"Mama, this is too much for you to do by yourself," I complained.
"It's all right; honey. I'm fine. When you have your heart soaking in happiness, you don't feel the labor."
"But afterward you will," I chastised.
"Listen to you," she said, standing back with her hands on her small hips. "Just graduated and already bossy."
"I'm not being bossy. I'm being sensible, Mama."
"I know, honey. Okay. I'll wait for help 'fore I do anything heavy. That's a promise," she said. I hoped she would keep it. I saw the palms of her hands were red from lifting and sliding the tables and chairs. Where was Daddy? How could he be so
inconsiderate?
I went inside and after eating only half of the po'boy sandwich Mama had prepared for my lunch, I got into my dress and fixed my hair again. Then I went outside and sat on the gallery, waiting for the time to pass and hoping to see my daddy come walking up to the house, full of apologies, but eager to help make this one of the happiest days of our lives.
He never showed.
Mama put on her best dress and brushed and pinned her hair. We stalled and waited as long as we could. Finally she emerged, her face burning with fury, those eyes ready to sear through Daddy's and set his soul on fire.
"Let's go, honey. We don't want you to be late," she said.
I didn't mention Daddy. We both started down the road. When we joined the Thibodeaus and Livaudises, they asked about Daddy.
"He'll meet us at the festivities," Mama said, but anyone could see that shadows had come to darken and pain Mama's happiness. No one asked why. They all looked at each other and knew the answer anyway.
There was a big crowd at the school by the time we arrived. Yvette, Evelyn, and I hurried into the building to put on our graduation gowns and caps and get into place. Mr. Ternant was as nervous as a gray squirrel, marching up and down the corridor, repeating the same orders, his head bobbing, his hands fluttering like two range chickens spooked by a fox. Finally we heard the first notes from Mrs. Parlange's piano and then Mr. Pitot's accordion. Everyone grew quiet.
"Attention," Mr. Ternant said, holding his right hand up like a general leading his troops to battle. The processional began and his arm lowered, his fingers pointing forward. "Begin!"
We got into step and trailed out to the stage. It seemed brighter than ever, the sun glistening off every shiny surface. Parents and family strained their necks like, egrets to get views of their graduates. Cameras were clicking, babies were crying. I gazed at Mrs. Parlange and saw she was playing the piano as if she were in a concert hall, looking neither to the right or to the left.
Remarkably, we all wove in and out of the aisles of seats to our own and sat orderly when the processional ended. After we were all seated, Mr. Pitot stepped on the stage beside the dignitaries. He gazed at us and then nodded his satisfaction before approaching the microphone. The ceremony, my graduation, was about to begin.
I searched the audience until I spotted Mama. She had kept a seat beside her, but it was empty. My heart sunk. How could Daddy miss my graduation? Please, please, dear God, I prayed, don't let him miss it.
And then my gaze shifted to the right and I saw Monsieur Tate. He was in the first row beside his wife. His eyes were fixed on me, his lips pressed tightly together. The unexpected sight of him put my heart into triple time and took my breath away. I looked at Gladys Tate to see if she noticed how he was staring at me, but she looked like she was bored.
She was very elegantly dressed, however, and had her hair cut and styled, with bubbles of pearls in her ears and around her neck. Gladys Tate was one of the more attractive women in our town. She had a regal stature and always walked and spoke with an air of superiority.
I looked away quickly, closed my eyes and caught my breath.
After Mr. Pitot and Mrs. Parlange played two numbers, Mr. Pitot returned to the stage and made a small speech about us all graduating at one of the most important times in history. He said we had a country to rebuild as soon as the war ended, and because so many young men were away and killed, we had more responsibilities. His words frightened me a bit and made me feel a little guilty about not doing something more with my life. Maybe I should have become a nurse, I thought.
After Mr. Pitot's speech, Theresa Rousseau, our salutatorian, got up and made her speech, followed by the valedictorian, Jane Crump, who had never missed a day of school or gotten a grade lower than ninetyfive on a test. She was a short, plump girl with glasses so thick they looked like goggles, but her father was president of the bank and everyone expected he would find her a suitable husband after she had gone to college to become a teacher herself.
Finally it was time to distribute the diplomas. I had been sitting there, twisting my hands together as if I had a roll of yarn in them, afraid to look at Mama and terrified of looking to the right and seeing Mr. and Mrs. Tate. But when I did look at Mama this time, my heart jumped.
There was Daddy sitting beside her, his hair wet and brushed, his best shirt and pants on. He had even shaved. But Mama was not smiling. Daddy was, beaming, and waving at me so much, I had to wave back to stop him from embarrassing Mama. Mr. Pitot began to call out the names of the graduates. My heart began to thump against my chest. I thought for sure when I stood up, my legs would turn to butter and I would sink to the stage floor.
"Gabriel Landry," Mr. Pitot cried out.
I rose, knowing all eyes were on me, the eyes of Mama's friends and people who respected and thought highly of her, the eyes of those who thought I was La Fille au Nature!, and the eyes of Octavious Tate. I couldn't help but glance his way once. He had a small smile on his lips. Gladys Tate was gazing up at me with some interest.
