207 Madame Erzulie
207 Madame Erzulie
We love you, Amos. Maybe not as much as our daughter does, but we love you. Even Trigg, so when he gives you a hard time, or makes your life a living hell, just remember that he really does love you. Because you love his baby and you treat her right. - Sid
Camille stood between her parents and looked at where Darkness stood at the end of the aisle. The sand art that Ciara had done that morning still looked good. When Camille had expressed her concern over the artwork being blown away, Pagan’s sister assured her that there was a secret to it.
“Witchcraft?” Camille asked with a hopeful grin.
“Modern witchcraft,” Ciara corrected and produced washable school glue. “Nontoxic, biodegradable, dissolves with water, and will keep the sand where it needs to be until after the ceremony.”
The closer they got to her groom, the less she was concerned about the sand art. Her father, on the other hand, began to worry about it. Did he have them stand on it? If it got messed up, would that affect the blessing?
Stopping just in front of their newest son-in-law, Sid kissed Camille’s cheek and then moved to do the same with Darkness. He Hugged her close and she whispered to him, causing him to nod. When they broke apart, she gently brushed away the tears on his cheeks.
Leaning down, he kissed both of her cheeks and then softly whispered a blessing over his wife’s mother. Brushing away her own tears, Sid went to sit in her chair. Camille tried not to laugh as her father scowled at her husband. Darkness ignored the other man and kept his eyes on the beautiful bride in front of him.
Trigg cleared his throat and turned to face the audience, putting an arm around the waist of his daughter and her husband, he pulled them close to his sides. He smiled at Camille and then scowled at Darkness. A soft ripple of laughter moved through the gathered crown as Trigg looked at where the Lowery families always sat.
“Werewolf, go ahead and pay Molly whatever your bet was. This time I’m not going to try to convince the bride’s family to change her mind.”
Much to the delight of those around them, Werewolf pulled out a crisp hundred-dollar bill and handed it to his cousin.
“Anyone else?” Trigg asked with a grin and a few others exchanged money. “Keeping with my other tradition, I will tell you that if plan to object, please file all objections to Dom.”
Just as she always did, Dom had a look of complete boredom on her face as she leaned against a pillar. She looked up from her nails that she was cleaning with the tip of a long Bowie knife. For the briefest of moments, there was another emotion that crossed her hardened face. It was gone before anyone could name the happy emotion.
“Not in the mood for it tonight,” Dom admitted.
“Well, we all know that means that she’s not going to put up with your bullshit and will probably slice your throat.” Trigg shrugged, “May the odds, whatever the line is.”
There was another ripple of laughter because he constantly said the line incorrectly just to annoy his grandkids. Smiling over at his granddaughter, Emily, the self-proclaimed biggest fan of the book and movie series, he stepped forward and turned to face the bride and groom. He motioned for them to move closer together and the couple did.
“Ladies and gentlemen, and all you other fuckers, typically I’m on the other side and looking out at your ugly faces. But my baby has fallen in love with a man who has different traditions. I refuse to,” Trigg leaned over to look around Darkness at the sand art on the ground, “in this case, quite literally stand on his religion.”
“Now, I had to learn a little bit about Madame Erzulie. Did I say that right?”
Darkness nodded, “Wi, papa.”
Trigg gave a single nod. “Madame Erzulie is the spirit of love, romance, luxury and desire. She is a fierce, protective mother, and I understand why Darkness chose her symbol to bless their wedding. My daughter, just like the other women in her family, is also a very fierce and protective mother. Not just to the child she gave birth to, but also the ones that she welcomed into her home.”
He smiled at Nicki and then her brothers. “And Amos is the other half of her soul. The Yin and Yang of one heart. The light and the dark.”
“My baby spent the majority of her life trying to hide in the dark shadows, to become part of the background, for people to forget that she was there. She has a tattoo on her back declaring that she belongs to the Darkness, because that’s where the stars shine brightest.”
Stepping towards the couple, Trigg held his hands out to Camille, and she placed her hands in his. Leaning in, he kissed cheek, “Camille, my baby girl, you were always hiding in the shadows because you needed the Darkness to shine.”
A dark hand reached up and gently brushed away the tear on her cheek. He spoke softly to her in Creole before pressing a light kiss on her forehead. Trigg placed his daughter’s hands in Darkness’ larger ones.
“For those who did not understand, he called her his light. His beloved light,” he smiled at his son-in-law. “There are very few words and phrases in Creole that I know. Limyè mwen renmen anpil la. My beloved light. Ma Belle which is either my beauty or my dear.”
“My dear,” Darkness confirmed.
“Thank you,” Trigg chuckled. “They lived with us for a month and I listened to him call my daughter his beloved light and my dear. There were other things that he said too, and Google Translate blushed when I asked what certain phrases meant. We have an unwritten rule, my kids give us grandkids, and I never get details about how they came to be. Now I know too much about how Noah was conceived. And why they had to have such a big tub.”
Laughter erupted around him as Trigg gave an involuntary shudder.
“Amos, Darkness, you once told me that the Darkness was engulfing you, swallowing you alive. But Camille brought you peace and lightness into the dark.”
Pausing, Trigg swallowed hard and blinked back his own tears. “Too many of us here,” he motioned to his brothers of the club, “understand the Darkness that you speak of. Some of us never find the light you have found. The salvation that we crave. The forgiveness that we need.”
He looked down at the ground, composing himself before he looked back up. With a hoarse voice, he spoke of the man that nobody spoke of.
“Sometimes, it takes a blind 105-year-old woman who speaks with the dead to help the restless find their peace in the last weeks of her own life.”
Toad stood up and moved to the chair with Momma Dee’s picture. He sat the Vietnam era picture on the chair propping the flowers against it.