Anthony Scott - Mardi Gras Madness (Carnival of Love)

“I just told her the truth,” Barbara said gravely.

“But... what was it all about?” he persisted.

“Suppose I said she insulted me?” Barbara asked him evenly.

“I don’t understand. Did she insult you? How? Why?”

“She certainly did!” Barbara’s eyes snapped angrily. “She intimated that I couldn’t be trusted away from home... and acted as though I were a shameful hussy just because I want to go visit Ethel in New Orleans to see the Mardi Gras festival.”

There. It was out. She closed her lips firmly and stole a glance at Robert’s face. It was grave, and told her nothing. He stared at the ground thoughtfully.

“She’s been awfully good to me,” he said quietly.

“But Bob!” Barbara grasped his arm fiercely. “Let’s not let her come between us,” she begged. “I’ll apologize to her if you want.”

“What’s all this foolish talk about Mardi Gras?” he asked slowly. “Of course, you don’t mean that.”

“Why not?”

“Well I... you’re not interested in that sort of thins, are you?”

“Why not?” Barbara’s face was white. “Why shouldn’t I be interested in life... in youth? I... I don’t want to be old and grim like Cousin Hattie,” she whispered savagely.

“Of course not.” Robert stared at her in dismay. “But there’s just a certain kind of girls that get out on the streets during Mardi Gras,” he went on, avoiding her gaze. “You’re not that sort.”

“How do you know I’m not?” she questioned vehemently. “How do I know I’m not?”

“Why...” He shook his head helplessly. “I thought you were satisfied here. I didn’t know you wanted that other sort of thing... froth... nothingness,” he added bitterly.

“Bob.” Barbara slipped her arm about his shoulders and spoke yearningly. “I want you to take me to Mardi Gras,” she whispered. “I want us to see it together... before it’s too late. Let’s do something with our youth. Let’s not sit and watch it fade away to dreary memories.”

“That’s ridiculous!” Robert sat erect angrily. “Ethel’s been putting fool notions in your head.”

Barbara drew back with a hurt look. “Oh, Bob,” she breathed softly, “is it ridiculous to want something more than we have now? I feel life is slipping from between my fingers. I want to clutch it... hold on to it... for just a little time.” Her eyes were starry as she gazed across the fields softly lighted in the twilight.

Robert moved uncomfortably. He didn’t understand Barbara. And he spoke resentfully because he didn’t understand her.

“That’s nonsense,” he said shortly. “I’m satisfied to work my fingers to the bone to make a home for you.”

“That’s all you think of.” Barbara’s voice quavered. “Work! Drudgery! You don’t see any of the loveliness of life. Youth is such a fleeting thing,” she pleaded passionately. “Let’s take this one glorious vacation together... for my sake!”

She leaned against him and drew in her breath sharply. With all her soul she willed that he might understand... and respond. She felt utterly shameless. She drew his head down to her breast and held it there crushingly.

The strange desires she had known before arose about her as phantoms. She did not repel them now. She welcomed them. His hot breath through the thin dress beat upon her breast tormentingly.

She hardly knew what she did as her hand caressed his cheeks, his lips... pressing down the thin garment so his lips might be upon the soft swell of her girlish bosom.

She held him thus for an eternity. Passion crept down and encircled her loins with glowing fire. Surely he would feel it. Surely the gods would bring him understanding.

Robert lifted his head and drew away from her stiffly. He spoke huskily. “Pull up your dress. It’s not decent for it to be so low in the neck.”

Barbara shivered and huddled away from him. That’s what her flesh had meant to him? Indecent exposure! A wave of cold terror swept over her. That passed... leaving her rigid and determined.

“You haven’t said whether you’d go or not,” she reminded him.

“I’ve told you it’s utter foolishness.” His face was cruel. “Let’s not discuss it.”

“Then you won’t take me?” She held her voice steady.

“Of course not,” he exclaimed impatiently. “And I think you’ve been seeing too much of this Ethel, too. I’ll be glad when she’s gone.”

“I’m sorry you don’t approve of Ethel.” Barbara spoke frigidly. She slipped off the hammock and stood before him. “I’m going to visit her Sunday,” she said gravely. “And see if I can find the beauty I’m seeking in the Mardi Gras.”

“No you’re not.” Robert’s voice was steely. “I’ll not let you thrust yourself into anything like that.”

“You won’t let me? I asked you to go with me and you refused. So I’ll go alone.”

“No you won’t, Babs.” Robert was inexorable.

“How are you going to keep me from it?” she flamed at him.

“I forbid you to go,” he said heavily. “After all... you’re wearing my ring, you know.”

“And you forbid me? Does your ring give you that right?” Barbara held out her left hand and gazed with fascination at the cheap diamond which had thrilled her so when Robert had tenderly slipped it on her finger.

“It certainly does.” Robert’s tone was that of one who knew he was in the right, yet grieved at the necessity of taking such action.

“All right then!” Barbara exclaimed viciously. “If that’s what your ring means... take it!” Her fingers trembled as she tore at the ring and finally pulled it off. Robert watched her aghast.

“Take your damned old ring,” she raged at him. She flung it wildly in his direction, then ran sobbing toward the house.

Robert sat as still as a graven image in the hammock. He looked bewildered... shaken to the depths of his soul. He leaned over slowly and retrieved the ring from the grass... then stared at it stupidly.

Finally, shaking his head, he stumbled blindly down the path to the front gate and the path homeward.

Barbara moved nervously against the green plush seat as the lights were turned on in the coach. It wasn’t any use looking out the window any longer. It had grown too dark to see anything more than a blur of lights now and then as the train thundered past a settlement.

She powdered her nose thoughtfully, and smoothed her dress. They must almost be there, she thought. The conductor had told her the train would reach New Orleans soon after dark.

She had gotten on the train at noon, and it seemed to her the slowest mode of travel she had ever known. Little waves of excitement had been creeping over her all afternoon... each time she thought of New Orleans and tried to vision what she would find there.

It was the Sunday following Ethel’s departure: The Sunday preceding Mardi Gras. There had been many objections from her father and mother about the trip, but Barbara had brushed them aside in tight-lipped silence. None of them knew exactly what had taken place between Robert and her. She hadn’t seen Robert since that afternoon... and she had convinced herself that she hoped she might never see him again.

She thought of Robert as she leaned against the worn plush and waited for the train to reach New Orleans.

She didn’t want to think of him but her subconscious mind had a way of tricking her. She would start thinking of anything widely removed from any thought of Robert, then, somehow, her subconscious mind would twist her thoughts so that he invariably appeared in one guise or another.

She shook her head angrily and closed her eyes. She had defiantly left Tancipahoa Parish in order to forget Bob. She would forget him.