Fic: Danse de Mardi Gras
Author: rivlee
Title: Danse de Mardi Gras
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Babe, Spina, Roe, Snafu, Paw-Paw, and various others. Babe/Roe.
Summary: It’s time for Mardi Gras again. This year, everything’s different. Part of the Modern!AU.
Warning: Minor Character Death Mentioned.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the HBO mini-series. No disrespect or harm is meant or intended.
A/N: Unbeated. Completely ridic. Could've probably used another draft or two but I wanted to get it up in time.
February 17-21, 2007
“Get your ass out of bed, Babe, you’ve got to see this.”
Babe Heffron pulled his head out from under his pillow at the sound of Ralph Spina’s voice. It was half-panicked and half-excited, which could only mean something pretty damn insane.
He wasn’t a big fan of surprises anymore. Not after December.
Spina pounded on his door. “Seriously, get out here.”
Babe groaned. He threw the covers off his bed and stood on unsteady feet. He drank way too much last night and the tequila was definitely making itself known. Fucking Remy Whitman, dude was Satan when it came to drinking partners.
The doorknob rattled as Spina twisted it.
“Calm the fuck down, Raphael, I’m coming,” he grumbled. He pulled on a ratty pair of sweat pants and opened the door. “This better be good.”
“It certainly looks better than you do,” Spina said. He wrinkled his nose. “Smells better too. What the hell did you do last night?”
“Remy,” Babe said. He knew the name was a sufficient answer.
Spina grimaced in sympathy. “You need to find better drinking buddies.”
“My only options at that hour are Remy, Ray, Jordan, and Shelton.”
“None of those options leave you anything less than screwed,” Spina agreed.
Babe nodded and then winced. It wasn’t a good idea to move his head. “What the hell do I have to see?”
“Trust me, bro, words can’t describe,” he said. Spina pushed Babe towards the stairs.
Babe gripped the banister and successfully made it down the stairs without tripping. He wanted to count it as a win, but seeing just who and what was spread out over the kitchen made him trip and hit the counter.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he yelled.
“You got to take better care of your boy, Gene-Baptiste,” Merriell Shelton said. “He’s cranky.”
Gene Roe and Shelton were sitting at the table, both with yards of fabric in their hands. There were large sewing kits on the table, along with some ornate masks and hats.
“When the hell did this become crafting corner?” Babe asked.
Shelton tsked. “You need to educate him too,” he said.
Gene rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his exasperation at his friend. Or his lover. Or both. It was too early for Babe to tell just who was getting glared at right now.
“It’s for Mardi Gras,” Gene explained. “This is the first time in years that I’m off and Merl-Francis is home. We’re heading over to Paw Paw’s for the weekend. We just need to make sure our costumes fit and all the tears are mended from the last time we participated.”
“I take it this isn’t the same as New Orleans?” Spina asked.
Gene smirked. “I told you when we met that I was different from those doctors in New Orleans. Same goes for the Cajuns during Mardi Gras. It’s more for our communities than for busloads of tourists.”
“Though they go to the bigger ones,” Shelton said.
“The bigger what?” Babe asked.
“Courir de Mardi Gras,” Gene said. He shook his head at Babe and Spina’s confused looks. “You’ll see,” he explained. “Pack your bags, boys. We got to be closer to the fairgrounds this weekend.”
“What about the clinic?” Spina asked.
“And Fitzwilliam’s,” Babe said.
“Trust me, everyone in this town, hell most of the people in this parish, are going to be out by the fairgrounds this weekend. The town’s going to turn into a complete ghost city. Ain’t nothing for you to do here anyway and most of the medical emergencies are going to be on site. Besides, Fitzwilliam’s is closed through Thursday. Didn’t Spyros tell you that?”
Babe tried to remember but most of last night was pretty damn vague. He did know his next shift wasn’t scheduled until Thursday night, but he figured that was just Spyros and Fotini softballing him until he’d settled in.
“You’re not planning on sacrificing us to some primordial gods, right?” Spina asked.
Shelton, Gene, and Babe all stared at him.
“What?” Spina asked. “It’s an honest question. Two outsiders being dragged along to a local festival. You know 75% of all horror movies start that way.”
“Yes, but this is real life, Spina,” Shelton said, very slowly.
“And weirder shit happens here,” Spina argued.
“Oh god,” Babe said, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re not going to start with the Jersey Devil sightings again, are you?”
“Kiss my ass,” Spina said, “I know what I saw.”
“When do we leave?” Babe asked.
“In about four hours,” Gene said. “We still got some things to sort out here. Merl-Francis has to go to the store, anyway.”
“I have to what?” Shelton asked.
“Don’t argue, just go,” Gene said, waving his hand.
“I got to fix this,” Shelton said, shaking the cloth.
“Your momma is just going to tear out all the stitches and re-sew it. Might as well save her the time.”
“I can do this,” Shelton said. He hunkered over and pulled at the thread. “I had to sew my own buttons in the Marines.”
“And Burgie had to go and fix them,” Gene said. He kicked at Shelton’s chair. “Go before all the rice is sold out.”
“You going to be the death of me one of these days,” Shelton muttered.
“You probably going to take me down with you.” He looked at Babe and Spina. “You boys go get washed up and packing.”
Babe didn’t want to get kicked, neither did Spina, so they both backed out quickly.
***************
Paw Paw Roe lived out on the swamp. There was a deck attached to his house and a whole lot of land around them. The set-up of a town primarily made up of people moving in-land from said swamp meant that the community’s fair grounds were, in fact, closer to the middle of nowhere rather than civilization.
The government of St. Boniface put up with a lot but apparently Mardi Gras parades down the main city street drew the line. That could be due to the fact that that the sanitation workers were county wide and St. Boniface was low on the priority list. Either way, it meant that the drive to Paw Paw’s was full of people going in the same direction.
Shelton was driving, honking and waving at old friends and family members.
“Just wait until you meet Beatrice and her babies. She always comes out for Mardi Gras.”
“Opossums aren’t pets,” Babe said through gritted teeth. He didn’t know if it was some sort of evasion tactic he learned overseas, but Merriell apparently thought driving fast on the side of the road and swerving through gaps was normal.
“I’m going to be sick,” Spina said. He’d taken his hat off and was waving it back and forth, trying to get some air on his face.
“Do not puke on me,” Babe said.
Spina just glared at him, face starting to go green.
“Shelton could you possibly, oh, I don’t know, slow the fuck down and attempt to obey standard traffic laws,” Babe said.
Shelton looked ready to tell Babe just where he could go but Gene’s bored muttering of Merl-Francis finally got him to take his lead foot off the gas.
“Thank Christ,” Spina said. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
“Please don’t break Raphael,” Gene said. “It’s damn hard to find good RNs willing to work this far out.”
“You’re no fun these days, Gene-Baptiste,” Merriell said.
“Less bitching, more driving,” Gene replied.
Babe wasn’t surprised at the smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t always easy to smile or laugh these days, he was still pretty damn angry at the world, but it was easy to be distracted here. He knew that running away wasn’t the best way to solve his problems, but even the cops told him to stay out of Pennsport until Julian’s killer was caught or the case went cold.
The warm sunshine and rural swamp land never let Babe forget just how far he was from home. He didn’t know if that was helping or hurting him at this point. Ralph didn’t appear nearly as fucked up as Babe, but he hadn’t been there. He wasn’t the one who held on to Julian, screaming at the 911 dispatcher, while blood pooled over the ice and snow.
Babe took a deep breath and brought himself back to the present. He studied his hands, clenching his jeans, and forced them to relax. He looked up and met Gene’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He reached a hand back to Babe through the gap between the seat and the door. Babe took it, letting the fingers tangle for a moment before they went back to normal. It was a small action, but just the kind Babe needed to anchor himself to the here and now.
Paw Paw Roe’s house appeared around the bend. There were already two campers outside and a whole crowd of people and noise. This was the extended Roe and Shelton families. Babe could already see a spark of shiny bangles and scarves which meant Sheryl St. Martine had already arrived.
There were two little dark-haired girls waving at them as they pulled up. Babe had never seen them before, but Shelton was so eager to get out of the car he damn near forgot to stop.
“What?” Spina asked.
Gene laughed. “Jolene and Anna-Mae love their Uncle Merl.”
Uncle Merl Spina and Babe mouthed at each other.
“Surely you two know Merl-Francis comes from a family just like the rest of us. Those are his brother’s kids. You’ll meet Edwin too and Mama and Papa Shelton, of course. They both don’t get much in the way of time off, but they always try to this time of year.”
Babe and Spina exchanged another look. It was hard to imagine Shelton having a normal family like the rest of them. Babe knew Paw Paw Roe helped raise him just like Gene, to help the Shelton’s while they made ends meet. He wondered if the mysterious Edwin was raised by Paw Paw as well.
Shelton came strolling back to the car, both girls clutching to the back of his shirt.
“Are you going to get out the car? No reason to stay in there. Gene-Baptiste you get out here and say hello to your godchildren.”
Babe and Spina exchanged another look.
“Likelihood of surviving this weekend in tact?” Spina asked.
“Slim to none,” Babe replied.
**************
The costumes were sewn together scraps of fabric, mostly patchwork, rusty colors. The purple, green, and gold of New Orleans’ Mardi Gras were practically forbidden here as Edwin told them. Such colors were too expensive for the historical Cajuns to afford. Besides, it wasn’t about being showy; it was about being equal and humble.
Babe lounged on the back porch as he watched Gene, Sheryl, and Edwin iron out the costumes and shake out the masks. Ralph was in the house, playing some Pretty Princess card game with Jolene and Anna-Mae. They’d correctly pegged him as a big, damn softie he so very much was.
They were going to spend the weekend here observing all the traditions of the season. It wasn’t the first time Babe had spent Ash Wednesday away from his family, but he still felt his gut churn as he thought about the ceremony. He had a hell of a lot of transgressions to contemplate this year.
“Not like you to be so quiet,” Sheryl said. “You’re normally like this whirlwind.”
Babe almost laughed at the shocked look on Gene’s face. Apparently not everyone knew just what the hell went down in December.
“It’s been a rough couple of months,” Babe said, not wanting to break the celebratory mood.
“You want to talk about it?” Sheryl asked.
“Not yet, Sheryl, but thanks for the offer.”
She patted his arm. “You just let me know when you need a chat. I’ll fatten you up and get you talking.”
Babe smiled. “I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”
Sheryl scoffed. “Always good.” She stood up and dusted her palms off. “These costumes are as good as they’re going to get. Help me take them inside Edwin.”
“Subtle,” Babe said after Sheryl and Edwin left.
Gene shrugged. “Whatever works.” He slid over to him, settling into Babe’s side. It was odd to see him so normal. Gene was in a worn t-shirt and jeans, bare feet stretched out on the smooth wooden slats of the porch. There was no trace of the ever-alert doctor who needed about ten hours more sleep. It was just simple Gene Roe, no pretense, just another half-Cajun boy hanging out with his family.
He’d been golden these past couple of months, just the right balance of support without being suffocating. When it happened, after the funeral, all Babe wanted was to be here. He’d sort of taken that flight and never looked back and Gene, god bless him, hadn’t even flinched. Not when some detectives called for additional questioning; not when all of Babe’s siblings arrived with his furniture, bike, and belongings; not even when his Ma came down for a surprise visit.
“Thank you,” Babe said, just needing to have it out there.
“Always welcome,” Gene said.
Babe leaned back and listened to the sounds of the swamp at night. He was trying not to think about the sounds in the water. He knew two alligators liked to call this area their home turf. Gene, in all of his five year old creativity, had named them Lucille and Lionel. The damn things were still around according to Paw Paw.
He started to drift off with Gene’s familiar warmth and weight at his side. Gene seemed to agree with him as his body was starting to go slack. Babe nudged him.
“We better get inside. I don’t want to fall asleep out there and wake up to some nutria eating my balls off.”
“Edward, you need to lose this fear of the wildlife.”
“It’s not fear, it’s caution.”
“I’m limiting your Animal Planet time.”
“I’ve still got Discovery, National Geographic, PBS and YouTube.”
Gene laughed and stood up, pulling Babe along with him. “Paw Paw should have dinner ready by now. We ought to rescue Raphael too, Anna-Mae doesn’t seem eager to let him go and that girl can get a gator’s grip.”
The inside of the house still bore a lot of Grandma Roe’s style. She’d been gone for years, but little of the main rooms of the house had changed. Paw Paw told Babe that the house worked damn well for fifty years as was, no need to change what wasn’t done broke. Or something like that. The grammar could even give Babe a headache sometimes and he had a lifetime of translating Bill Guarnere.
Everyone was pushing and shoving around the table. Anna-Mae was curled up in Spina’s lap, the exact spot Zita always claimed when her big brother was home. Merriell was talking to his parents, Lacey, his sister-in-law, hanging over his chair. Sheryl and Jolene were helping Edwin and Paw-Paw set the table. It was familiar, to have this many people hanging around the dinner table, even if the food was spicier, the language different, and it came with a whole group of new faces. It still felt like the Heffron-Guarnere Sunday night dinners. He exchanged a look with Spina, knowing he felt it just the same. It was a bittersweet feeling, but he’d take that over the anger and the numbness.
“Okay, everyone sit their asses down so we can say grace,” Paw Paw announced.
Babe laughed openly for the first time in days. Yup, just like home.
***************
It was early morning when Paw Paw Roe packed them all up in one of the camper’s and drove to the fair grounds. Babe couldn’t decide who was more excited about it all; Jolene and Anna-Mae or Merriell and Edwin. Both sets of siblings were practically bouncing around with nervous energy.
Spina had volunteered to work in the emergency tent, freeing up Gene to enjoy the experience to the fullest. Which meant, they might finally get to see Gene drunk off his ass. Babe was kind of excited for that rare occasion; apparently it’d been over two years. Babe planned to cling to Spina, the only way to do this was together. Neither of them had any clue what to expect and none of the Sheltons or Roes were forthcoming with any helpful information. Sheryl’s advice was to just sit back and enjoy it.
It didn’t take them long to arrive since they’d set out before dawn. The fairground was full of tents, stalls, stages, people, horses and chickens.
Yup, chickens.
“Uh, why?” Spina asked as he pointed to a makeshift chicken coop.
“You got to dance for the chicken,” Jolene said.
“Excuse me, but what the fuck?” Babe asked.
Paw-Paw Roe laughed. He patted Babe on the shoulder. “You come sit by me, Edward. I’ll keep you safe from le capitaine.”
“I’m so confused,” Spina said. He clutched to his bag of medical supplies and gaped, watching small masked children run after a live chicken.
“Got to live it up,” Paw-Paw said. He pulled on his mask. “The seriousness comes tomorrow before God. Today, we celebrate another year of life, family, and community.”
That was apparently the signal for everyone else to don their colorful costumes and masks. A friggin’ cavalry had just shown up, followed by a group of marching musicians.
Gene pressed a quick kiss to Babe’s lips before joining the others. “Stay safe under the tent and don’t get sunburned,” he cautioned.
Babe just watched him go in utter bewilderment. Luckily, Spina was just as mystified.
“We’re officially in crazy town,” Spina said. He plopped down in one of the folding chairs. “I need a drink.”
“It’s not even 10 in the morning,” Babe said.
Spina pointed to a group of men cracking open beers. “Apparently they live life by the virtue of it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
Babe and Spina settled down to watch the show, feeling like the outsiders they so clearly were.
“What’s this remind you of,” Ralph said, pointing the long lines of fiddle-playing costumed folks.
Babe felt a smile tug at his lips. Put them on city streets with some snow banks and they might as well be watching the Mummers Parade.
“Small world,” he murmured.
Children were running across the open field. Some were chasing the actual chickens while others were after the costumed acts. The musicians were leading people around like masked pied pipers. The smell of gumbo already drifted on the air.
It was a site to see and Babe couldn’t help the joy of witnessing the community come together. That being said, he was still damn happy to be hiding out in the medic tent with Spina. No way in hell was he getting tricked into chasing some bird through mud and horse shit. He loved Gene and accepted all his family and community had to offer, but there were limits.
It was close to three hours later before Gene come stumbling back to them, covered in dirt and smiling wider than Babe had ever seen.
“So, you let the chicken go?” Babe asked.
“We decided to make the chase more symbolic about five years back. Jenny Lee can’t afford to have all those chickens caught and killed each year. Besides, this way we stay out of any major fights with the Animal Rights Activists.”
“Nothing to do with the chicken’s fighting back?” Spina asked.
Gene smirked. “Maybe.” He tugged off his hat and the upper half of his costume. “I am going to need three showers before this weekend is done.”
“You smell like a swamp,” Spina said.
“That’s kind of the point,” Gene said. He looked around the tent. “No emergencies so far.”
“Minus a few chicken scratches, nada,” Spina said. He fiddled with his water bottle. “I figure the more serious stuff will come later.”
“Copious amounts of alcohol will do that,” Gene said.
Babe said nothing as both Gene and Spina looked at him.
“Some people just can’t handle beer and walking,” Spina agreed.
“For fuck’s sake, I was avoiding a float,” Babe said.
Gene patted his cheek. “Of course you were, cher.”
“Heh,” Spina said, “minus the whole liturgical calendar issues, Mardi Gras really is the season of your anniversary. What’s the first year, paper?”
“I will kill you in your sleep,” Babe said.
Just then Shelton came crashing into their tent, cackling like a mad man.
“Merl-Francis, what you done did?” Gene asked.
“Just dumped Remy into the swamp. Boy had it coming. Stole the chicken right out from under Ray.”
“Will someone please explain the chicken,” Spina said.
“Chicken’s part of the gumbo,” Shelton said. “In the olden days, back before World War II, the Courir went from house to house, begging for rice, beans, spices, anything to make a big ol’ pot of gumbo for the whole community. A song and dance for an ingredient. It was all meant to enforce rules of hospitality and being humble at this time of year. The chicken, though, they ain’t exactly easy to catch. Especially not if you got a whole group of singing and dancing fools coming after them. No one shows their face because the victory ain’t supposed to be about one person. Each community does it their own way, but this is how we do it in St. Boniface.”
“And outsiders aren’t part of it,” Babe said. Him and Spina hadn’t been cursed out or anything, but they’d certainly felt marked.
“It’s about our culture,” Gene explained. “It’s our festival, one of the few unique things we still have left. Some people have deiced to make money off of it, turning it into a tourist trap, but the pride always was that Cajun’s Mardi Gras was different from New Orleans. Now we got people in buses chasing around the countryside trying to get the authentic Cajun experience bullshit. You have people making caricatures of what we’ve always done. Can’t totally blame ‘em, if people going to come to see you, might as well makes a few dollars out of it. Still, we ain’t like some of the places. They forbid outsiders, do it all in French, don’t even let women participate because that was the rules long time ago.”
“Doc Thibodaux was the one who opened up St. Boniface to outsiders and with Paw Paw’s approval, he opened up the Courir too. Right now it’s more that you boys still haven’t settled in yet than that you ain’t Cajun. Hell, half the folks here ain’t Cajun, or they mutts like Gene,” Shelton said.
Gene nodded. “It’s all about the community really and the coming together of such. On a day like today, it ain’t so much about religion or ethnicity. It’s about a bunch of folks living together in some backwater Louisiana swamp town, having some beers, singing some songs, dancing around and eating some gumbo.”
“With two little pet Yankees to torment,” Shelton said.
“I’m almost touched,” Spina said. Babe snorted in agreement.
“Come on,” Shelton said, “time to go eat. Need to get to the front of the line before someone spits in the pot.”
“He’s not serious,” Babe said.
Gene sighed. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny that on the grounds of you and Spina already look half-near bolting.”
The gumbo was delicious, if a little spicy for Babe’s taste. He leaned against Gene, listening to the accordion, fiddle, and singing style of the local musicians. There was a crowd gathered and dancing in between bites of food and swapping of gossip.
He never imagined a Mardi Gras like this, didn’t even know such a tradition existed but Babe looked forward to witnessing it again and again in the coming years. It was sure as hell better than almost getting run over by a float followed by stitches in his head. All and all, this was a tradition he could get behind.
***********
The house was somberly quiet on Ash Wednesday morning. It wasn’t so much about being respectful as it was about nursing hangovers. He had to give Shelton credit though, he never thought the man could dance that well, much less waltz.
Babe and Edwin decided to make breakfast. He liked Edwin, he was still as batshit insane as his older brother, but he showed hope that Merriell would turn out to be a civilized person one of these days. Breakfast had to be a small meal, all part of the fasting tradition, but luckily they’d perfected seafood based morning dishes in this part of the world.
Everyone stumbled in at different rates of alertness and dress; even Sheryl looked a bit worse for wear. Breakfast was a mostly silent affair, except for Jolene and Anna-Mae. Babe didn’t feel much like talking anyway and he was thankful he didn’t have to throw on a fake smile or make a lot of small talk. He hadn’t slept much last night, a combination of Gene’s rare snoring and Babe’s own thoughts.
They were getting ready to leave for morning Mass when Paw Paw Roe asked Babe to walk with him. He followed Paw Paw on to the back deck, walking down the worn wooden boards of the pier into the swamp.
“Sit, Edward,” Paw Paw ordered.
Babe followed suit, eyes trying and failing to adjust to the foggy light of the bayou in the morning.
“We all sinners,” Paw Paw said. “None of us is perfect and that sure as hell makes life interesting. You can’t blame yourself for your friend’s death. No matter that you were right there, that bullet wasn’t meant for you, you didn’t pull the trigger, and you sure as hell didn’t tell him to get involved in that mess. It ain’t your friend’s fault either, and I’m not going to tell you God has his way. I cursed his name up and down when my Abigail left this world. Ain’t no right way to go, either for those leaving or those left behind.”
Babe nodded. “I know, Paw Paw, but rationality has fuck all to do with emotional reactions. I’m not trying to run away from any sense of grief or guilt on today of all days. Christ knows me, Spina, Bill, Ron, we’re not exactly faultless in all this. We’ve all done far from legal jobs and dragged Julian into that mess. We may not have been the ones who set up that last job that got him killed, but the question always remains would he have even taken it if he never met the rest of us.”
“From what I’ve been told about your hometown, I don’t think he would’ve had much of a choice.”
Babe sadly smiled. “You can’t tell me everything done out here is completely legal either.” He looked around, watching the water. “I’ll always live with the guilt, but I’m not going to let it consume me. I wasn’t there for Julian the way I needed to be near the end. I already had a foot halfway out the door and down here. And I don’t regret that, and he never held it against me, but shit, if I just paid more attention what could I have prevented.”
Paw Paw gripped his shoulder. “Don’t think I don’t know how you feel. I still ask myself if Frank would still be here if I had put my foot down. Actions have consequences, we both know that, Edward. Years ago I could’ve forbid Frank from pursuing his love of music. Then there would be no Gene. Or I could’ve let him go but refused to raise his child and I never want to think how that would’ve turned out. Tough decisions and tragedies ain’t always for the worse. Takes you decades to see the blessings twisted inside. No matter what, we can’t dwell on the what-ifs.”
“There’s nothing wrong with remembrance, though,” Gene said, interrupting them. He was dressed in a business suit and Babe was damn sure the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit would not approve of the thoughts running through his mind.
“Gene-Baptiste, can’t you see me and the boy are having a chat?” Paw Paw asked.
“Don’t you know that if we’re late for the service, Father Joseph is going to call all of us out to the front and demand an explanation. Do you really want a repeat of that?”
“He’s going to call us to the front anyway, what with you and Merl-Francis being present this year.”
“Still no need to be late. I don’t want to be standing in the back for the whole Mass. Let’s get going.”
Babe turned to Paw Paw. “Has he always been this bossy?”
Paw Paw smirked. “So much of Abigail in him.”
Gene, Shelton, Spina, and Babe would be heading home right after the service. Babe almost regretted it. They’d had a nice respite here at Paw Paw’s, even with all the drunken revelry of a Cajun Mardi Gras. None of them were keen on returning to their normal status quo, but they couldn’t hide out in the swamp forever.
Babe took one last deep breath full of the distinct tang that came with the bayou and hurried back up the pier.
***************
Grandma Pugliese was the one who suggested the small remembrance shrine to Julian. She had one for Henry in her own bedroom, just a candle or two, a rosary, and some mementos. She said it helped her when she needed to talk to him.
Babe’s memorial shrine to Julian wasn’t as classy as Henry’s. He didn’t have a proper statue and was making due with a tea candle held by a wizard figure he’d bought at the church’s rummage sale. He had one of Julian’s favorite Matchbox cars, a small framed photo of him and the boys, and a mass card from the funeral. There was a set of the extra rosary beads they’d always handed out at St. Joe’s, draped over the photo frame in all their plastic glory. There was a small bottle of Jameson’s in honor of Julian’s inhuman tolerance for alcohol. It wasn’t the best shrine in the world, but it fit Julian.
“Hey, Jules,” Babe said as he sat down on his bed. He wrinkled his forehead, feeling the pull of the wet ashes. “You won’t believe what I’ve been up to these past few days. Remember that time you told me moving down here would drive me insane? I’m not quite there yet, but chickens and horses, man.” He shook his head. “God, you would’ve loved it.”
He dug out his lighter and lit the candle, murmuring a quick prayer.
“I know you’re watching out for us and having a hell of a time doing it. See you on the other side, Julian.”
He stood up and walked back out into the hallway. Gene was waiting for him, hand outstretched for his own. Babe took it and gripped it tight, letting Gene pull him down the hall and into bed. He couldn’t spend all his time dwelling on the past and he wasn’t quite ready to go through the grieving process, but he also wasn’t going to deny the joy of being here.
Lent was about remembrance, sacrifice, penitence and Babe planned to follow all the tenets like each year. This year, though, he was always going to spend it being thankful for what he had in the here and now.
And by giving up tequila and drinking nights with Remy Whitman for forty days. If nothing else, his liver would thank him.
Title: Danse de Mardi Gras
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairing: Babe, Spina, Roe, Snafu, Paw-Paw, and various others. Babe/Roe.
Summary: It’s time for Mardi Gras again. This year, everything’s different. Part of the Modern!AU.
Warning: Minor Character Death Mentioned.
Disclaimer: This is all fiction based off the characters as portrayed in the HBO mini-series. No disrespect or harm is meant or intended.
A/N: Unbeated. Completely ridic. Could've probably used another draft or two but I wanted to get it up in time.
February 17-21, 2007
“Get your ass out of bed, Babe, you’ve got to see this.”
Babe Heffron pulled his head out from under his pillow at the sound of Ralph Spina’s voice. It was half-panicked and half-excited, which could only mean something pretty damn insane.
He wasn’t a big fan of surprises anymore. Not after December.
Spina pounded on his door. “Seriously, get out here.”
Babe groaned. He threw the covers off his bed and stood on unsteady feet. He drank way too much last night and the tequila was definitely making itself known. Fucking Remy Whitman, dude was Satan when it came to drinking partners.
The doorknob rattled as Spina twisted it.
“Calm the fuck down, Raphael, I’m coming,” he grumbled. He pulled on a ratty pair of sweat pants and opened the door. “This better be good.”
“It certainly looks better than you do,” Spina said. He wrinkled his nose. “Smells better too. What the hell did you do last night?”
“Remy,” Babe said. He knew the name was a sufficient answer.
Spina grimaced in sympathy. “You need to find better drinking buddies.”
“My only options at that hour are Remy, Ray, Jordan, and Shelton.”
“None of those options leave you anything less than screwed,” Spina agreed.
Babe nodded and then winced. It wasn’t a good idea to move his head. “What the hell do I have to see?”
“Trust me, bro, words can’t describe,” he said. Spina pushed Babe towards the stairs.
Babe gripped the banister and successfully made it down the stairs without tripping. He wanted to count it as a win, but seeing just who and what was spread out over the kitchen made him trip and hit the counter.
“Jesus Fucking Christ,” he yelled.
“You got to take better care of your boy, Gene-Baptiste,” Merriell Shelton said. “He’s cranky.”
Gene Roe and Shelton were sitting at the table, both with yards of fabric in their hands. There were large sewing kits on the table, along with some ornate masks and hats.
“When the hell did this become crafting corner?” Babe asked.
Shelton tsked. “You need to educate him too,” he said.
Gene rolled his eyes, not bothering to hide his exasperation at his friend. Or his lover. Or both. It was too early for Babe to tell just who was getting glared at right now.
“It’s for Mardi Gras,” Gene explained. “This is the first time in years that I’m off and Merl-Francis is home. We’re heading over to Paw Paw’s for the weekend. We just need to make sure our costumes fit and all the tears are mended from the last time we participated.”
“I take it this isn’t the same as New Orleans?” Spina asked.
Gene smirked. “I told you when we met that I was different from those doctors in New Orleans. Same goes for the Cajuns during Mardi Gras. It’s more for our communities than for busloads of tourists.”
“Though they go to the bigger ones,” Shelton said.
“The bigger what?” Babe asked.
“Courir de Mardi Gras,” Gene said. He shook his head at Babe and Spina’s confused looks. “You’ll see,” he explained. “Pack your bags, boys. We got to be closer to the fairgrounds this weekend.”
“What about the clinic?” Spina asked.
“And Fitzwilliam’s,” Babe said.
“Trust me, everyone in this town, hell most of the people in this parish, are going to be out by the fairgrounds this weekend. The town’s going to turn into a complete ghost city. Ain’t nothing for you to do here anyway and most of the medical emergencies are going to be on site. Besides, Fitzwilliam’s is closed through Thursday. Didn’t Spyros tell you that?”
Babe tried to remember but most of last night was pretty damn vague. He did know his next shift wasn’t scheduled until Thursday night, but he figured that was just Spyros and Fotini softballing him until he’d settled in.
“You’re not planning on sacrificing us to some primordial gods, right?” Spina asked.
Shelton, Gene, and Babe all stared at him.
“What?” Spina asked. “It’s an honest question. Two outsiders being dragged along to a local festival. You know 75% of all horror movies start that way.”
“Yes, but this is real life, Spina,” Shelton said, very slowly.
“And weirder shit happens here,” Spina argued.
“Oh god,” Babe said, rubbing his hands over his face. “You’re not going to start with the Jersey Devil sightings again, are you?”
“Kiss my ass,” Spina said, “I know what I saw.”
“When do we leave?” Babe asked.
“In about four hours,” Gene said. “We still got some things to sort out here. Merl-Francis has to go to the store, anyway.”
“I have to what?” Shelton asked.
“Don’t argue, just go,” Gene said, waving his hand.
“I got to fix this,” Shelton said, shaking the cloth.
“Your momma is just going to tear out all the stitches and re-sew it. Might as well save her the time.”
“I can do this,” Shelton said. He hunkered over and pulled at the thread. “I had to sew my own buttons in the Marines.”
“And Burgie had to go and fix them,” Gene said. He kicked at Shelton’s chair. “Go before all the rice is sold out.”
“You going to be the death of me one of these days,” Shelton muttered.
“You probably going to take me down with you.” He looked at Babe and Spina. “You boys go get washed up and packing.”
Babe didn’t want to get kicked, neither did Spina, so they both backed out quickly.
***************
Paw Paw Roe lived out on the swamp. There was a deck attached to his house and a whole lot of land around them. The set-up of a town primarily made up of people moving in-land from said swamp meant that the community’s fair grounds were, in fact, closer to the middle of nowhere rather than civilization.
The government of St. Boniface put up with a lot but apparently Mardi Gras parades down the main city street drew the line. That could be due to the fact that that the sanitation workers were county wide and St. Boniface was low on the priority list. Either way, it meant that the drive to Paw Paw’s was full of people going in the same direction.
Shelton was driving, honking and waving at old friends and family members.
“Just wait until you meet Beatrice and her babies. She always comes out for Mardi Gras.”
“Opossums aren’t pets,” Babe said through gritted teeth. He didn’t know if it was some sort of evasion tactic he learned overseas, but Merriell apparently thought driving fast on the side of the road and swerving through gaps was normal.
“I’m going to be sick,” Spina said. He’d taken his hat off and was waving it back and forth, trying to get some air on his face.
“Do not puke on me,” Babe said.
Spina just glared at him, face starting to go green.
“Shelton could you possibly, oh, I don’t know, slow the fuck down and attempt to obey standard traffic laws,” Babe said.
Shelton looked ready to tell Babe just where he could go but Gene’s bored muttering of Merl-Francis finally got him to take his lead foot off the gas.
“Thank Christ,” Spina said. He leaned back in his seat and closed his eyes.
“Please don’t break Raphael,” Gene said. “It’s damn hard to find good RNs willing to work this far out.”
“You’re no fun these days, Gene-Baptiste,” Merriell said.
“Less bitching, more driving,” Gene replied.
Babe wasn’t surprised at the smile tugging at his lips. It wasn’t always easy to smile or laugh these days, he was still pretty damn angry at the world, but it was easy to be distracted here. He knew that running away wasn’t the best way to solve his problems, but even the cops told him to stay out of Pennsport until Julian’s killer was caught or the case went cold.
The warm sunshine and rural swamp land never let Babe forget just how far he was from home. He didn’t know if that was helping or hurting him at this point. Ralph didn’t appear nearly as fucked up as Babe, but he hadn’t been there. He wasn’t the one who held on to Julian, screaming at the 911 dispatcher, while blood pooled over the ice and snow.
Babe took a deep breath and brought himself back to the present. He studied his hands, clenching his jeans, and forced them to relax. He looked up and met Gene’s eyes in the rearview mirror. He reached a hand back to Babe through the gap between the seat and the door. Babe took it, letting the fingers tangle for a moment before they went back to normal. It was a small action, but just the kind Babe needed to anchor himself to the here and now.
Paw Paw Roe’s house appeared around the bend. There were already two campers outside and a whole crowd of people and noise. This was the extended Roe and Shelton families. Babe could already see a spark of shiny bangles and scarves which meant Sheryl St. Martine had already arrived.
There were two little dark-haired girls waving at them as they pulled up. Babe had never seen them before, but Shelton was so eager to get out of the car he damn near forgot to stop.
“What?” Spina asked.
Gene laughed. “Jolene and Anna-Mae love their Uncle Merl.”
Uncle Merl Spina and Babe mouthed at each other.
“Surely you two know Merl-Francis comes from a family just like the rest of us. Those are his brother’s kids. You’ll meet Edwin too and Mama and Papa Shelton, of course. They both don’t get much in the way of time off, but they always try to this time of year.”
Babe and Spina exchanged another look. It was hard to imagine Shelton having a normal family like the rest of them. Babe knew Paw Paw Roe helped raise him just like Gene, to help the Shelton’s while they made ends meet. He wondered if the mysterious Edwin was raised by Paw Paw as well.
Shelton came strolling back to the car, both girls clutching to the back of his shirt.
“Are you going to get out the car? No reason to stay in there. Gene-Baptiste you get out here and say hello to your godchildren.”
Babe and Spina exchanged another look.
“Likelihood of surviving this weekend in tact?” Spina asked.
“Slim to none,” Babe replied.
**************
The costumes were sewn together scraps of fabric, mostly patchwork, rusty colors. The purple, green, and gold of New Orleans’ Mardi Gras were practically forbidden here as Edwin told them. Such colors were too expensive for the historical Cajuns to afford. Besides, it wasn’t about being showy; it was about being equal and humble.
Babe lounged on the back porch as he watched Gene, Sheryl, and Edwin iron out the costumes and shake out the masks. Ralph was in the house, playing some Pretty Princess card game with Jolene and Anna-Mae. They’d correctly pegged him as a big, damn softie he so very much was.
They were going to spend the weekend here observing all the traditions of the season. It wasn’t the first time Babe had spent Ash Wednesday away from his family, but he still felt his gut churn as he thought about the ceremony. He had a hell of a lot of transgressions to contemplate this year.
“Not like you to be so quiet,” Sheryl said. “You’re normally like this whirlwind.”
Babe almost laughed at the shocked look on Gene’s face. Apparently not everyone knew just what the hell went down in December.
“It’s been a rough couple of months,” Babe said, not wanting to break the celebratory mood.
“You want to talk about it?” Sheryl asked.
“Not yet, Sheryl, but thanks for the offer.”
She patted his arm. “You just let me know when you need a chat. I’ll fatten you up and get you talking.”
Babe smiled. “I don’t know if that’s a good or bad thing.”
Sheryl scoffed. “Always good.” She stood up and dusted her palms off. “These costumes are as good as they’re going to get. Help me take them inside Edwin.”
“Subtle,” Babe said after Sheryl and Edwin left.
Gene shrugged. “Whatever works.” He slid over to him, settling into Babe’s side. It was odd to see him so normal. Gene was in a worn t-shirt and jeans, bare feet stretched out on the smooth wooden slats of the porch. There was no trace of the ever-alert doctor who needed about ten hours more sleep. It was just simple Gene Roe, no pretense, just another half-Cajun boy hanging out with his family.
He’d been golden these past couple of months, just the right balance of support without being suffocating. When it happened, after the funeral, all Babe wanted was to be here. He’d sort of taken that flight and never looked back and Gene, god bless him, hadn’t even flinched. Not when some detectives called for additional questioning; not when all of Babe’s siblings arrived with his furniture, bike, and belongings; not even when his Ma came down for a surprise visit.
“Thank you,” Babe said, just needing to have it out there.
“Always welcome,” Gene said.
Babe leaned back and listened to the sounds of the swamp at night. He was trying not to think about the sounds in the water. He knew two alligators liked to call this area their home turf. Gene, in all of his five year old creativity, had named them Lucille and Lionel. The damn things were still around according to Paw Paw.
He started to drift off with Gene’s familiar warmth and weight at his side. Gene seemed to agree with him as his body was starting to go slack. Babe nudged him.
“We better get inside. I don’t want to fall asleep out there and wake up to some nutria eating my balls off.”
“Edward, you need to lose this fear of the wildlife.”
“It’s not fear, it’s caution.”
“I’m limiting your Animal Planet time.”
“I’ve still got Discovery, National Geographic, PBS and YouTube.”
Gene laughed and stood up, pulling Babe along with him. “Paw Paw should have dinner ready by now. We ought to rescue Raphael too, Anna-Mae doesn’t seem eager to let him go and that girl can get a gator’s grip.”
The inside of the house still bore a lot of Grandma Roe’s style. She’d been gone for years, but little of the main rooms of the house had changed. Paw Paw told Babe that the house worked damn well for fifty years as was, no need to change what wasn’t done broke. Or something like that. The grammar could even give Babe a headache sometimes and he had a lifetime of translating Bill Guarnere.
Everyone was pushing and shoving around the table. Anna-Mae was curled up in Spina’s lap, the exact spot Zita always claimed when her big brother was home. Merriell was talking to his parents, Lacey, his sister-in-law, hanging over his chair. Sheryl and Jolene were helping Edwin and Paw-Paw set the table. It was familiar, to have this many people hanging around the dinner table, even if the food was spicier, the language different, and it came with a whole group of new faces. It still felt like the Heffron-Guarnere Sunday night dinners. He exchanged a look with Spina, knowing he felt it just the same. It was a bittersweet feeling, but he’d take that over the anger and the numbness.
“Okay, everyone sit their asses down so we can say grace,” Paw Paw announced.
Babe laughed openly for the first time in days. Yup, just like home.
***************
It was early morning when Paw Paw Roe packed them all up in one of the camper’s and drove to the fair grounds. Babe couldn’t decide who was more excited about it all; Jolene and Anna-Mae or Merriell and Edwin. Both sets of siblings were practically bouncing around with nervous energy.
Spina had volunteered to work in the emergency tent, freeing up Gene to enjoy the experience to the fullest. Which meant, they might finally get to see Gene drunk off his ass. Babe was kind of excited for that rare occasion; apparently it’d been over two years. Babe planned to cling to Spina, the only way to do this was together. Neither of them had any clue what to expect and none of the Sheltons or Roes were forthcoming with any helpful information. Sheryl’s advice was to just sit back and enjoy it.
It didn’t take them long to arrive since they’d set out before dawn. The fairground was full of tents, stalls, stages, people, horses and chickens.
Yup, chickens.
“Uh, why?” Spina asked as he pointed to a makeshift chicken coop.
“You got to dance for the chicken,” Jolene said.
“Excuse me, but what the fuck?” Babe asked.
Paw-Paw Roe laughed. He patted Babe on the shoulder. “You come sit by me, Edward. I’ll keep you safe from le capitaine.”
“I’m so confused,” Spina said. He clutched to his bag of medical supplies and gaped, watching small masked children run after a live chicken.
“Got to live it up,” Paw-Paw said. He pulled on his mask. “The seriousness comes tomorrow before God. Today, we celebrate another year of life, family, and community.”
That was apparently the signal for everyone else to don their colorful costumes and masks. A friggin’ cavalry had just shown up, followed by a group of marching musicians.
Gene pressed a quick kiss to Babe’s lips before joining the others. “Stay safe under the tent and don’t get sunburned,” he cautioned.
Babe just watched him go in utter bewilderment. Luckily, Spina was just as mystified.
“We’re officially in crazy town,” Spina said. He plopped down in one of the folding chairs. “I need a drink.”
“It’s not even 10 in the morning,” Babe said.
Spina pointed to a group of men cracking open beers. “Apparently they live life by the virtue of it’s five o’clock somewhere.”
Babe and Spina settled down to watch the show, feeling like the outsiders they so clearly were.
“What’s this remind you of,” Ralph said, pointing the long lines of fiddle-playing costumed folks.
Babe felt a smile tug at his lips. Put them on city streets with some snow banks and they might as well be watching the Mummers Parade.
“Small world,” he murmured.
Children were running across the open field. Some were chasing the actual chickens while others were after the costumed acts. The musicians were leading people around like masked pied pipers. The smell of gumbo already drifted on the air.
It was a site to see and Babe couldn’t help the joy of witnessing the community come together. That being said, he was still damn happy to be hiding out in the medic tent with Spina. No way in hell was he getting tricked into chasing some bird through mud and horse shit. He loved Gene and accepted all his family and community had to offer, but there were limits.
It was close to three hours later before Gene come stumbling back to them, covered in dirt and smiling wider than Babe had ever seen.
“So, you let the chicken go?” Babe asked.
“We decided to make the chase more symbolic about five years back. Jenny Lee can’t afford to have all those chickens caught and killed each year. Besides, this way we stay out of any major fights with the Animal Rights Activists.”
“Nothing to do with the chicken’s fighting back?” Spina asked.
Gene smirked. “Maybe.” He tugged off his hat and the upper half of his costume. “I am going to need three showers before this weekend is done.”
“You smell like a swamp,” Spina said.
“That’s kind of the point,” Gene said. He looked around the tent. “No emergencies so far.”
“Minus a few chicken scratches, nada,” Spina said. He fiddled with his water bottle. “I figure the more serious stuff will come later.”
“Copious amounts of alcohol will do that,” Gene said.
Babe said nothing as both Gene and Spina looked at him.
“Some people just can’t handle beer and walking,” Spina agreed.
“For fuck’s sake, I was avoiding a float,” Babe said.
Gene patted his cheek. “Of course you were, cher.”
“Heh,” Spina said, “minus the whole liturgical calendar issues, Mardi Gras really is the season of your anniversary. What’s the first year, paper?”
“I will kill you in your sleep,” Babe said.
Just then Shelton came crashing into their tent, cackling like a mad man.
“Merl-Francis, what you done did?” Gene asked.
“Just dumped Remy into the swamp. Boy had it coming. Stole the chicken right out from under Ray.”
“Will someone please explain the chicken,” Spina said.
“Chicken’s part of the gumbo,” Shelton said. “In the olden days, back before World War II, the Courir went from house to house, begging for rice, beans, spices, anything to make a big ol’ pot of gumbo for the whole community. A song and dance for an ingredient. It was all meant to enforce rules of hospitality and being humble at this time of year. The chicken, though, they ain’t exactly easy to catch. Especially not if you got a whole group of singing and dancing fools coming after them. No one shows their face because the victory ain’t supposed to be about one person. Each community does it their own way, but this is how we do it in St. Boniface.”
“And outsiders aren’t part of it,” Babe said. Him and Spina hadn’t been cursed out or anything, but they’d certainly felt marked.
“It’s about our culture,” Gene explained. “It’s our festival, one of the few unique things we still have left. Some people have deiced to make money off of it, turning it into a tourist trap, but the pride always was that Cajun’s Mardi Gras was different from New Orleans. Now we got people in buses chasing around the countryside trying to get the authentic Cajun experience bullshit. You have people making caricatures of what we’ve always done. Can’t totally blame ‘em, if people going to come to see you, might as well makes a few dollars out of it. Still, we ain’t like some of the places. They forbid outsiders, do it all in French, don’t even let women participate because that was the rules long time ago.”
“Doc Thibodaux was the one who opened up St. Boniface to outsiders and with Paw Paw’s approval, he opened up the Courir too. Right now it’s more that you boys still haven’t settled in yet than that you ain’t Cajun. Hell, half the folks here ain’t Cajun, or they mutts like Gene,” Shelton said.
Gene nodded. “It’s all about the community really and the coming together of such. On a day like today, it ain’t so much about religion or ethnicity. It’s about a bunch of folks living together in some backwater Louisiana swamp town, having some beers, singing some songs, dancing around and eating some gumbo.”
“With two little pet Yankees to torment,” Shelton said.
“I’m almost touched,” Spina said. Babe snorted in agreement.
“Come on,” Shelton said, “time to go eat. Need to get to the front of the line before someone spits in the pot.”
“He’s not serious,” Babe said.
Gene sighed. “I’ll neither confirm nor deny that on the grounds of you and Spina already look half-near bolting.”
The gumbo was delicious, if a little spicy for Babe’s taste. He leaned against Gene, listening to the accordion, fiddle, and singing style of the local musicians. There was a crowd gathered and dancing in between bites of food and swapping of gossip.
He never imagined a Mardi Gras like this, didn’t even know such a tradition existed but Babe looked forward to witnessing it again and again in the coming years. It was sure as hell better than almost getting run over by a float followed by stitches in his head. All and all, this was a tradition he could get behind.
***********
The house was somberly quiet on Ash Wednesday morning. It wasn’t so much about being respectful as it was about nursing hangovers. He had to give Shelton credit though, he never thought the man could dance that well, much less waltz.
Babe and Edwin decided to make breakfast. He liked Edwin, he was still as batshit insane as his older brother, but he showed hope that Merriell would turn out to be a civilized person one of these days. Breakfast had to be a small meal, all part of the fasting tradition, but luckily they’d perfected seafood based morning dishes in this part of the world.
Everyone stumbled in at different rates of alertness and dress; even Sheryl looked a bit worse for wear. Breakfast was a mostly silent affair, except for Jolene and Anna-Mae. Babe didn’t feel much like talking anyway and he was thankful he didn’t have to throw on a fake smile or make a lot of small talk. He hadn’t slept much last night, a combination of Gene’s rare snoring and Babe’s own thoughts.
They were getting ready to leave for morning Mass when Paw Paw Roe asked Babe to walk with him. He followed Paw Paw on to the back deck, walking down the worn wooden boards of the pier into the swamp.
“Sit, Edward,” Paw Paw ordered.
Babe followed suit, eyes trying and failing to adjust to the foggy light of the bayou in the morning.
“We all sinners,” Paw Paw said. “None of us is perfect and that sure as hell makes life interesting. You can’t blame yourself for your friend’s death. No matter that you were right there, that bullet wasn’t meant for you, you didn’t pull the trigger, and you sure as hell didn’t tell him to get involved in that mess. It ain’t your friend’s fault either, and I’m not going to tell you God has his way. I cursed his name up and down when my Abigail left this world. Ain’t no right way to go, either for those leaving or those left behind.”
Babe nodded. “I know, Paw Paw, but rationality has fuck all to do with emotional reactions. I’m not trying to run away from any sense of grief or guilt on today of all days. Christ knows me, Spina, Bill, Ron, we’re not exactly faultless in all this. We’ve all done far from legal jobs and dragged Julian into that mess. We may not have been the ones who set up that last job that got him killed, but the question always remains would he have even taken it if he never met the rest of us.”
“From what I’ve been told about your hometown, I don’t think he would’ve had much of a choice.”
Babe sadly smiled. “You can’t tell me everything done out here is completely legal either.” He looked around, watching the water. “I’ll always live with the guilt, but I’m not going to let it consume me. I wasn’t there for Julian the way I needed to be near the end. I already had a foot halfway out the door and down here. And I don’t regret that, and he never held it against me, but shit, if I just paid more attention what could I have prevented.”
Paw Paw gripped his shoulder. “Don’t think I don’t know how you feel. I still ask myself if Frank would still be here if I had put my foot down. Actions have consequences, we both know that, Edward. Years ago I could’ve forbid Frank from pursuing his love of music. Then there would be no Gene. Or I could’ve let him go but refused to raise his child and I never want to think how that would’ve turned out. Tough decisions and tragedies ain’t always for the worse. Takes you decades to see the blessings twisted inside. No matter what, we can’t dwell on the what-ifs.”
“There’s nothing wrong with remembrance, though,” Gene said, interrupting them. He was dressed in a business suit and Babe was damn sure the Father, Son, and the Holy Spirit would not approve of the thoughts running through his mind.
“Gene-Baptiste, can’t you see me and the boy are having a chat?” Paw Paw asked.
“Don’t you know that if we’re late for the service, Father Joseph is going to call all of us out to the front and demand an explanation. Do you really want a repeat of that?”
“He’s going to call us to the front anyway, what with you and Merl-Francis being present this year.”
“Still no need to be late. I don’t want to be standing in the back for the whole Mass. Let’s get going.”
Babe turned to Paw Paw. “Has he always been this bossy?”
Paw Paw smirked. “So much of Abigail in him.”
Gene, Shelton, Spina, and Babe would be heading home right after the service. Babe almost regretted it. They’d had a nice respite here at Paw Paw’s, even with all the drunken revelry of a Cajun Mardi Gras. None of them were keen on returning to their normal status quo, but they couldn’t hide out in the swamp forever.
Babe took one last deep breath full of the distinct tang that came with the bayou and hurried back up the pier.
***************
Grandma Pugliese was the one who suggested the small remembrance shrine to Julian. She had one for Henry in her own bedroom, just a candle or two, a rosary, and some mementos. She said it helped her when she needed to talk to him.
Babe’s memorial shrine to Julian wasn’t as classy as Henry’s. He didn’t have a proper statue and was making due with a tea candle held by a wizard figure he’d bought at the church’s rummage sale. He had one of Julian’s favorite Matchbox cars, a small framed photo of him and the boys, and a mass card from the funeral. There was a set of the extra rosary beads they’d always handed out at St. Joe’s, draped over the photo frame in all their plastic glory. There was a small bottle of Jameson’s in honor of Julian’s inhuman tolerance for alcohol. It wasn’t the best shrine in the world, but it fit Julian.
“Hey, Jules,” Babe said as he sat down on his bed. He wrinkled his forehead, feeling the pull of the wet ashes. “You won’t believe what I’ve been up to these past few days. Remember that time you told me moving down here would drive me insane? I’m not quite there yet, but chickens and horses, man.” He shook his head. “God, you would’ve loved it.”
He dug out his lighter and lit the candle, murmuring a quick prayer.
“I know you’re watching out for us and having a hell of a time doing it. See you on the other side, Julian.”
He stood up and walked back out into the hallway. Gene was waiting for him, hand outstretched for his own. Babe took it and gripped it tight, letting Gene pull him down the hall and into bed. He couldn’t spend all his time dwelling on the past and he wasn’t quite ready to go through the grieving process, but he also wasn’t going to deny the joy of being here.
Lent was about remembrance, sacrifice, penitence and Babe planned to follow all the tenets like each year. This year, though, he was always going to spend it being thankful for what he had in the here and now.
And by giving up tequila and drinking nights with Remy Whitman for forty days. If nothing else, his liver would thank him.