~city of shadows and light

~city of shadows and lights

When he was younger, before the meth and the cocaine and the copious amounts of alcohol changed his face,he was a sexy man. He was a bit on the heavy side, but bald looked fantastic on him, and his eyes sparkled when he smiled. He was not an educated man, and fell into the classification of “fish head” in Ft. Walton Beach. This was a place where the tourists could be distinguished from the locals by the fact they did not wear shirts advertising a love for Jimmy Buffet, along with ball caps and flip flops as formal wear. 

He referred to himself as “boat trash” as that term allowed his true caste to be revealed, but it sounded better if one was a redneck on a boat. He had been the owner of many boats. So many that when he went to prison for beating her the first time, a judge issued a furlough so that he could remove over six 21 foot Catalinas from the bay around the area.  All his boats were half sunk, and all of them worthless, littering the Gulf. He never did remove them all and there are sunken Catalinas there to this day. 

 

He dropped out of site for a long time. She married again, and half a decade later he reappeared. He burnt her three thousand square foot house to the ground, causing a schism in her new marriage and a divorce she did not want. Released on his own recognizance, he finally went to prison only to be released three years later. They had let him walk with no probation, not enough time served and she knew he would come straight for her. She tried to tell the authorities, but they didn’t care

He showed up in New Orleans, twenty-four hours after his release from an Alabama State prison. 

He hated New Orleans and she wondered why. People say New Orleans is a “wicked” city, but she had always felt that the city was like a mirror. It would draw to you exactly who you were and the people could see right through you. Maybe he could feel how New Orleans could see him. Perhaps the city knew how his eyes turned black when he hit a woman, or beat a child.  He could not con people on Bourbon Street, and she was suddenly surrounded by people that knew how to separate her from him, as she had not learned to do it herself. He could not touch her in New Orleans. He hated New Orleans and finally claimed it was just too big a city for him.

Three times he returned to New Orleans and three times he ended up on a bus home within a couple days. Somehow this city had done what two restraining orders in different states had been unable to do. 

 

There are some things in a city like New Orleans that can be disturbing. There are junkies, drunks, and scandals. But a city that is very olde and ancient in its ways can weed out those who would harm whom it would choose to protect. The streets have eyes and the people have seen enough that they are “seers”, seeing through shadows cast by the malevolent. They live amongst shadows, but they know how to walk in the light. It is requisite to self-preservation. 

He moved to a boat the VA bought him, where he gets a monthly check for his booze, and his living expenses. Justice was never served…. except by New Orleans… the city that said. “NO MORE” to the stalker and his shadows, Parking and traffic tickets may really suck in Orleans parish, and there is crime and darkness in her desperate corners, but there is light, if you draw it to you. The City, she will teach you to be a “seer”, if you listen to her carefully

 

 

©  Katherine Wyatt 2016 All Rights Reserved