Oppressed (23 page)

“
Gather my things!” Justine
burst out incredulously, and I knew exactly what she was
thinking.

“
No, I’m not selling you back
into the market. You have my word, but we can no longer live here.
I can no longer live here.” Every inch of the place reeked of
Edmond and I could no longer stand living under his sick control.
Even if he was no longer physically allowed in the house I could
still feel him all around me. His touch lingered on my skin and in
the air all around me and if I didn’t escape from it I knew I would
explode.

“
But where will we go?”
Justine and Emilie asked simultaneously.

“
We’re going to live with my
Tante.” I wasn’t exactly sure if Tante Celeste would embrace us
with open arms, but I had to at least try. Trying was better than
doing nothing at all.

“
But Monsieur isn’t going
to approve,” Justine said with hesitation. “He’s not going to
approve at all.”

“
Justine I cannot and will
not make you do anything you don’t want. If you want to stay here
with Monsieur it’s your choice.”

She wasn’t too pleased at that suggestion
and shot me one last uncertain look before she left to gather her
belongings.

“
No! We can’t go to her home!”
Emilie pleaded. It was the first time I’d ever heard her raise her
voice and the very sound of it surprised me. “I can’t go to your
Tante’s home. She’ll send me back to your Maman! There’s no way
she’s going to let me stay there. What if…”

“
No. No she won’t. She’s
different. She’s not like Maman. She’ll help us, I swear,” I said,
as convincingly as I could. I wasn’t sure if Tante Celeste would be
comfortable with harboring stolen property. Justine was legally
Edmond’s and Emilie belonged to Maman; and, well, I was still
technically Edmond’s as well.

Emilie studied me carefully for a few
seconds before speaking. “Trust you? Why should I trust you? What
have you ever done to earn my trust?”

My cheeks burned in shame as I thought of
all the years I looked the other way. All the times she did my hair
and served us meals, and I ignored her screams when Maman used the
whip on her for disobeying or simply out of pure frustration and
anger. I had gotten a fancy education while she was forbidden to
learn how to read or write. In the past, I never truly understood
her situation, but after being Edmond’s prisoner I finally got a
tiny sense of what life must have been like for her. “You’re right.
You have no reason to trust me but if we don’t work together we
won’t get anywhere. Believe me, we’re both in the exact same
position.”

She laughed a
high-
pitched
laugh. “Work together? I want to be free, Cecile. Help me get out
of this city. Help me escape this nightmare!”

“
It’s too dangerous, Emilie. If
you get captured Maman won’t take you back and you’ll end up in the
pen. ” I shuddered at the thought of her ending up there. The city
was full of hunters that existed solely for the purpose of catching
slaves and Emilie had never been out of city- how would she ever
survive in the wilderness all alone? “It’s not any better out
there. I know Tante Celeste can convince Maman to set you free.
Trust me. Please.” I wanted to make it all better. I wanted to make
up for all the wrongs. I wanted her to know that I cared even if I
was just one person I was still someone she could turn to and maybe
even trust.

She fixed her brown tignon and took a
deep breath. “I don’t need your pity, Cecile! I don’t need your
sympathy. I don’t need a savior.”

“
I’m not trying to save
you. I’m trying to… work with you.”

“
Work with me?”

I nodded. “We’re both alone, aren’t
we? Your Maman died when you were a child and mine wants nothing to
do with me. We share a Papa but we can never truly be part of his
world, can we? From where I stand we’re in exactly the same
position. What’s the point of splitting apart when we could be so
much stronger together?”

Emilie exhaled and appeared defeated.
“Alright. Fine.”

I breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.
Everything is going to change, I swear. We’ll finally get to live
the lives we deserve to live.”

“
Perhaps,” she said softly
and with uncertainty.

“
We are!” I tried to brush
aside any doubt I had and reminded myself that I had to remain
positive. “I’ll be right back,” I said as I went to collect the
only things I needed. I ran into my bedroom and gathered all of my
offerings, charms, herbs and oils. I glanced around the room and
let out a low sigh of relief that I would never have to spend
another night there again.

***

Tante Celeste answered the door. With her
dramatic red and yellow tignon, billowy black dress and layers of
wooden beads she played the part of Voodoo Queen perfectly. Her
hazel eyes widened, shock and sorrow replacing her lively
expression when she saw the three of us miserably standing at her
door looking like lost little orphans.

“
Tignon! You’re wearing a
tignon?” I asked, completely ignoring the real reason I was
standing at her doorstep.

She proudly touched the
colorful headdress and laughed. “
Oui
, do you like it? Does it make me look less
attractive?”

I shook my head and admired the resolve
and silent rebellion of the Voodoo community. In 1786 a law had
been passed that stated that all free woman of color had to wear
tignons instead of bonnets. This law was a sad attempt at reminding
free woman of color of their inferior position within the
community. Instead of accepting the tignon as a badge of shame and
slavery, women began wearing it as a fashion statement and the law
was eventually removed. However, now, the tignon had become a
staple among Voodoo Queens who wanted to remind lawmakers that no
matter what they did or tried to do they could never really keep
the community down.

“
Cecile?” Tante Celeste
stared at me in expectation.

“
I need help.” The whole Emilie,
Edmond, Antoine, Maman, sis
ter and losing my soul story came out in a rapid
stream of words that flowed and flowed. After it was all out I held
my breath and closed my eyes, unable to monitor her expression
while she decided if she would help us or not. I trembled and
struggled not to cry, because this was my last option. We had
nowhere else to turn.

My eyes were still closed when I felt a
pair of warm arms embrace me and the spicy smell of cinnamon and
cayenne pepper surround me. “Why didn’t you come sooner?” she
asked

I shrugged. “Emilie and Justine have
no place to go, we need to keep them safe, please don’t send Emilie
back to Maman, please,” I begged.

Tante Celeste released me and turned her
attention to Emilie who at this point was shaking with outright
fear and suspicion. Tante Celeste gently stroked Emilie’s smooth,
baby-like cheeks. “You’re safe here. You all are,” she said as
glanced at Justine. “Now come in, don’t stand out in the
cold.”

“
Thank you! Thank you! See, I
told you she would help us.” I grinned at Justine and Emilie who
quietly followed me inside the lavish house.

I loved everything about Tante Celeste’s
house, from its exquisite hand-carved furniture, its imported
Persian carpets and silk tapestries, and the fact that it always
smelled like fiery pepper and sweet peaches. I closed my eyes and
thanked all the Spirits and Saints for their constant presence,
love, and protection.

Chapter
Twenty-Four

Slave Driver, the Table Has
Turned

Tante Celeste’s Home, Rue de Rampart

New Orleans
, 1853

I glanced at myself in the gilded wood
mirror and smiled at my reflection. My skin was no longer a sickly
shade of yellow but a radiant pale honey, and my eyes were no
longer dull and lifeless. Exactly two months had passed since I had
broken free from Edmond and it felt as if the world had magically
changed. Winter had quickly turned to spring and brought with it
the sugary smell of jasmine and magnolia. The vivid purple flowers
on the Crepe Myrtle tree that was outside my bedroom window were in
full bloom. And as they did every morning, two little birdies
chirped sweet melodies outside my window, helping me welcome in a
new day.

It wasn’t that life was perfect. Far from
it. Edmond hadn’t given up. On the contrary, he was as aggressive
as ever. He had shown up outside Tante Celeste’s home numerous
times, only to be driven away. He still followed me and harassed me
on the streets and threatened to sell Justine back into the market,
he threated to call the police on me because he knew any place
where people gathered to conduct Voodoo rituals or ceremonies was
an instant police attraction. He had threatened to have me whipped
but had never carried through with the threat. No matter what he
said or did I was no longer afraid of him. Every horrific action he
plotted never worked to his advantage because he no longer had my
fear to feed off of and because I knew I had the spirits on my
side.

I missed Antoine dearly and thought of him
every day. But more importantly I respected his wishes and tried to
stand up for myself every day in every way.

Maman and I hadn’t spoken since the day of
our fight and I wasn’t sure if we would ever speak again. I was
still angry and ashamed that she hadn’t told me Emilie was my
sister. I was ashamed that she had used the whip on her so freely
all these years, knowing that we both had Papa’s blood running
through our veins. I was disappointed that she no longer wanted me
as a daughter because I refused to be who she wanted me to be. It
was painful cutting the cord, but I knew that I could no longer
live that way. The way she wanted me to live.

Tante Celeste had spoken to her about
Emilie and much to my surprise she had sold Emilie to Tante Celeste
for the pitiful price of two dollars. Tante had legally freed
Emilie, and had given her the choice of pursuing her own path or
staying here with us. To my shock, Emilie had chosen to stay with
us and was learning Voodoo/Hoodoo so she could help the fine people
of New Orleans who flocked to us in hordes. Slowly but surely the
spirits were opening their world to her and she was beginning to
develop her powers.

The spirits had been right. I was meant to
be the official Voodoo Queen of New Orleans, and my reputation and
effectiveness as a Queen had spread like wildfire throughout the
entire city. Every day hundreds of people turned to me for hope and
spirit. Rich, poor, white, black, yellow, green, red, slave and
free. I loved each and every one of them, laughed with them, cried
with them, united them and did whatever I could to make sure that
no matter what they never gave up hope.

It was my job to inspire them and remind
them that life was a beautiful mystery and that it was worth living
every day and in every way regardless of oppressors and tyrants who
thrived on taking away its beauty and magic. The spirits worked
through me to remind the good people of New Orleans that all of
them had a right to life, not only the Edmonds of the city. Some of
the methods I used were simple; others were controversial, but they
were always effective.

Being the most
sought-
after
Queen in the city wasn’t an easy job because it left me open to
constant threats and attacks from other Queens who wanted my
position and power. Day after day dolls, bottle hexes, headless
chickens and other rather creative tricks were thrown my way, but I
always kept my guard and managed to fend them off.

Of course my actions and decisions had
officially classified me as a ruined woman and the neighborhood
snobs took delight in what they perceived to be my newfound
poverty. Little did they know, despite the fact I no longer wore
fancy Parisian ball gowns I was richer than I had ever
been.

“
Cecile! Monsieur Grady is here
to see you!” Tante Celeste’s voice called, snapping me out of my
mindless reflections.

“
I’ll be right there.” I
gave myself one last glance in the mirror and opened the door. The
heavenly scent of chicory café and beignets swirled around me and
my stomach growled but I ignored it and hurried to the back parlor
where I conducted my business.

I dramatically walked into the room and
set my eyes on a very young, handsome, and tragically miserable
Monsieur Grady. His pale face with its delicate sprinkling of
freckles was streaked in mud, and when his dazzling green eyes met
mine I could sense his desperation. His white shirt was full of
holes and his feet were bare, telling me that he had fallen on some
pretty hard times.

“
Why are you so sad,
mon ami?”
I asked, as I
extended my hand for him to shake.

He nervously ran his fingers through
his thick black hair and eyed me from head to toe before he finally
decided to extend his hand. “Are you really her?” he asked in a
thick Irish accent.

“
Who?”

“
The one who knows how to fix
people’s problems. The one everyone says can help. I thought you’d
be taller, stronger, and a lot older.”