“Be back soon, Mr. G,” I say as I head out the back door of my store. He turns his head around and lifts it, like the chin raise guys in high school used to do instead of actually opening their mouth to say hi. They thought they were so cool and still do. Ugh, Nate. Yuck. But not Mr. Grayson, of course. He’s always excused.
Since last night was such a mess, I have to get my chicory coffee from Louise’s. It’s my only hope to stay alert after my restless sleep. Seems like every time I go to Louise’s lately, it’s in direct relation to a disruptive event in my life. Fun times. I guess I’m an emotional eater—uh, caffeine drinker—now. But I’ll take the long way this morning so I can peek in the cemetery close by to see the All Saints’ Day celebrators. That’s always a thrill.
I love this holiday, and tomorrow’s because it’s All Souls’ Day. Being a true New Orleanian, I’m drawn to anything related to feasting and spirits, so these holidays to celebrate deceased loved ones are right up my alley—only as a viewer, thank God.
Passing the nearest cemetery, I stick my head up over the weathered wall, but don’t see any visitors in there yet. It’s early and the day after a night many people probably stayed up late, so I’m not surprised. Maybe there will be a long line at Louise’s for the other tired folks of my city. My trek increases speed.
Must get the coffee repeats in my head until it’s reality.
Ah, that first sip of the thick nutty goodness courses through my body. When I turn to see if I need to hold the door open for anyone as I exit, I catch none other than Patsy walking out behind me. “Patsy! I didn’t see you in there.”
“Hi, Doll. Oh yes, I was in the back corner.” She points to where we sat last time and follows me out. Someone already took the table. It’s a popular place, but that’s fast.
“You finished your coffee already?” I ask, raising my eyebrows.
“Louise’s has the best chicory in town, don’t you think? Who could put it down?” She winks like she did the other day.
Strangely enough, I’m not repulsed like I always have been when guys wink. She’s not creepy or coming on to me romantically, so there’s that. But everything about her is captivating and kind. She could never evoke a negative reaction from me.
“Where are you off to now? Your store?” She starts heading in that direction, so I follow her.
“Yes, I just needed something to wake me up after the time I had last night.” My eyes automatically roll at the thought.
“What happened?” She tilts her head.
“I was dating someone, and he broke up with me. He pouted like a child all night and left me in a flash.”
“Not all fellows are worthy of your time, Doll.” She remains sympathetic.
“Thank you, Patsy. That’s very nice of you to say.” I feel blood rushing to my cheeks again, like always with her compliments, so I look away. She barely knows me and has such confidence in my being. “I’ll be fine. He’s just another disappointment in the man department. So…” I want to change the subject. “You never returned yesterday.”
Not ignoring anything of what I say or allowing my attempt at a shift in topic, she says, “Not all of them will leave you feeling this way either. The right man is out there. I know it. The same as my great one.” She looks off to the side and smiles.
A wave of peace reaches a peak in me to match her tranquil energy, then fades as fast as it came. I don’t know why a strange new desire to have a long-term partner has popped up in the last year or so. I’ll never be able to trust a guy with my heart again, so I may as well forget it. You’re good on your own, Mary. Next thought.
“Can I ask”—I hesitate—“is your partner still alive?” As soon as the words leave my mouth, I hold my breath. That may be too direct of a question, even for me. But she doesn’t look fazed. Phew. I can exhale.
“Sadly, no, he is not. But Silvio was a wonderful man. We were married for almost seventy-five years.”
I don’t know if I’ve ever seen her smile this big. And this seasoned lady’s teeth shine in bright white. They nearly glow.
My eyes probably match the size of her smile. “That’s unheard of nowadays! Patsy, wow. I’d love to hear your love story sometime, about how you became a couple and all.”
“I would love to tell it to you. Maybe I can stop by next week, and we can have that chat we talked about recently. Oh, and I’m sorry I couldn’t make it back to your store yesterday. I am sure you were very busy anyway with your experts and the customers.” She stops her stride when we move in front of the cemetery gate, so I do as well.
“No worries. I like to see you whenever you can make it in. You may be my favorite new customer.” Then, I correct myself. “No, you definitely are my favorite new customer.” A sip of coffee warms my insides all the way down to my toes, along with appreciation of how my store brings me special people.
I notice a man walking by and staring at us. When he catches my eye, he looks down and crosses the street. You’d think we are terrifying to view by the way he jolted away from us.
I turn back to look in the cemetery and see a handful of people now, dressed up and placing mostly chrysanthemums at gravesites, as usual on this day. Some have come prepared to stay awhile, with picnic baskets, and a few are already cleaning off their loved ones’ headstones. It seems like a serene tradition to come and talk with your missed person, enjoying the time together. Well, you know, in a different kind of way.
Looking over to Patsy, I ask, “Hey, have you ever gone to a cemetery on All Saints’ or All Souls’ Day?”
“Si, Signorina, I have. That’s a habit all the way from the homeland, though it seems to get combined here. People visit the cemetery both days for honoring their loved ones, where in Italy, we only go on All Souls’ Day. All Saints’ Day is for church, exchanging gifts, and eating a meal with loved ones, especially honoring people who have saint names in the family.” She lifts her chest and head in pride.
“Leave it to the Crescent City to cut to the chase. We can’t wait to get into the cemetery—well, you know what I mean.” I laugh and she joins me. “Tell me more about your experience…if you don’t mind.” I want to hear, but I also glance back at the people in front of us. I’m interested in both, and it’s hard to choose. Give a woman a break.
She must notice my split attention and comments while also looking in their direction. “They look like a nice family, don’t they?”
“Yes, sorry, I’m distracted.”
“I don’t blame you, Doll. Witnessing an act of love should take your interest. As for me, I probably looked the same as them on my days of visiting. I brought some food, usually olives, and Sicilian wine. That’s where I’m from in Italy. Did I ever tell you that?” She pauses briefly but continues after I shake my head signaling a no to her question. “I would sit at the gravesite for hours, reminiscing and talking to who I missed. It was a cherished time, and I always felt the deceased person was close to me. Well, closer than usual, because I think loved ones are always around us.”
Her words win my focus over the family in the cemetery. I’m staring at her, hanging on her every word, but all that comes out of my mouth is a reflection of one beautiful part of her statement. “You’re from Sicily? I’m Sicilian, too. What are the odds?”
“Yes, how funny. It is a magnificent place.” She joins her hands by her heart.
“I love that we are from the same area in Italy. It’s…astonishing.” After a pause to process the irony, I continue, “So, are you going to visit your family members today? I don’t want to keep you from anything.”
“There’s time for that. I’m enjoying this time with my delightful new friend.” She beams.
“I’m excited that I’ve run into you a few times. I wish I could stay all day with you, but”—I pull out my phone to see the time—“I should be getting back to my store to help Ada.”
“Yes, go, go.” Patsy waves her hands in a shooing motion. “I am sure I will see you later.” Patsy smiles and starts walking away. “Have a good day. Happy All Saints’ Day.” She winks again.
And again, no regurgitation arises within me. “You, too!”
I bounce in step on my way to A Healing Hand, bursting with joy from hearing Patsy’s tidbits and seeing the visitors at the cemetery. I had the exact opposite feelings on the way to Louise’s a short time ago. The magic of the day must have taken over me.
Maybe there is a man out there in the world who is trustworthy. A man who goes the extra mile of opening his mouth to say hi instead of half-nodding. Another Silvio.
Patsy has a unique ability to provide comfort to me without even knowing me well. How does she do that? Her bright eyes peer through mine, straight to my soul with such ease. There’s no judgment from her, and I can be myself, despite the chaos around me that makes me feel like a lunatic lately. She doesn’t seem to think negatively of me, even though she met me at this unusual time in my life.
May this high of coffee, gentle old ladies, and cemetery traditions stay with me to knock out the muck. I’ll try to hang on to all the delight with both metaphorical hands as tight as possible. I squeeze my eyes as if I can hold in her good vibes forever.