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When he joined us, I realized quickly why Mama had been sitting with a gray face beside him. He reeked of whiskey, despite his clean appearance.
"Why'd you run off like that, Gabriel?" he asked. "Some of these people think you're as mad as a rabid dog."
"Why do you think she run off?" Mama snapped. "The way you behaved, screaming out like that, everyone laughing at you."
"Is that why? I was just proud, is all. Can't a man be proud of his daughter anymore?"
"Proud's proud, being a fool is just being a fool," Mama replied.
"Aaa, who cares what these stuffy folks think anyway. You looked great up there, Gabriel. Let's go celebrate."
"Figures you'd get home in time for that, Jack Landry," Mama said.
"Quit whippin' me, woman. A man can take only so much before he explodes."
Mama flicked him a scathing glance. He looked away quickly and fell behind us as we trekked toward home and the party Mama had prepared all by herself.
Fewer people attended than Mama had expected, and none of my classmates appeared. I knew it was because of my behavior and I felt just terrible about it, but Mama wouldn't be discouraged, nor would she permit a single sad face. Her food and the food her friends brought was wonderful. The men and especially Daddy had plenty of homemade whiskey to drink. The Rice brothers provided the music. They played the fiddle, the accordion, and the washboard. People danced and ate until long after nightfall. Every time someone started to leave, Daddy would jump up and grab him by the elbow, urging him to stay.
"The night's young," he declared. "We got lots to drink and eat yet. Laissez les bon temps rouler! Let the good times roll."
I never saw him so excited and happy. He danced one jig after another, dragged Mama out to do the two-step, performed somersaults and handstands, and challenged every man to Indian wrestle.
People ate and scraped their plates clean. The women helped Mama clean up. No one bothered me about what happened at graduation, but most had some sort of advice or another when they stopped to wish me good luck.
"Don't be in a hurry to go and get married. Marry the right man."
"Think about getting a job in the cannery, maybe."
"If I were your age, I'd go to N'orleans and find work, or try to get a job on a steamboat."
"Raise a family when you're young so you're not too old to enjoy life when they finally up and leave."
I thanked everyone. Daddy drank himself into a stupor and fell asleep in the hammock, his arm dangling, his snoring so loud, we could hear him clear across the yard.
"I'm just going to leave him out there," Mama told her friends. "Won't be the first time; won't be the last."
They nodded and went their way. When everyone was gone, I sat with Mama on the gallery for a while. Daddy was still sawing trees in the hammock.
"It was a wonderful party, Mama. But now you're so exhausted."
"It's a good exhaustion. When you do a labor of love, it don't matter how tired you get, honey. The pleasure soothes you and eases you into a restful sleep. It's just too bad your father came soaked with whiskey to your ceremony and embarrassed you that way. It near broke my heart to see you rush off that stage."
"I'm sorry I did that, Mama."
"It's all right. Most people understood."
I had the greatest urge to explain to her why it wasn't just what Daddy had done. I would begin by telling her about Monsieur Tate's eyes on me and then .
But I just couldn't get the words up from the bottom of the trunk I had buried them in.
Mama stood up, gazed at Daddy for a moment, shook her head, and started to go into the house.
"You coming, Gabriel?"
"In a while, Mama."
"Don't think you're not exhausted too, honey," she warned.
