A French Quarter argument
by Teresa Tumminello Brader
You walk down the alley from the courtyard of the Royal Street apartment. The quiet is absolute until you pull on the massive door that leads to the street and then you hear the trill of a trumpet. The notes punctuate the argument you are having with your spouse. Stepping onto the sidewalk and feeling the change in temperature, you realize how opposed the weather is to what's happening. The hot peaceful day has melted into a cool noisy evening. Dusk is falling and the sky is a soft purple. You are aware of all this as you listen to your spouse. You are even replying. You experience panic and fear that this is the end as you take in the sights and feel the soothing breeze on your bare arms.
The breeze reminds you of the gusts from the whirring high-speed ceiling fan in your bedroom and the way it feels on your naked body after one of those long, luxurious, sweaty sessions of love-making that occur about once every other month. The rarity of those times makes them more special. You lie on your bed hypnotized by the blurred, perfect circle the ceiling fan creates.
More people are on the street now than were around during the sweltering day. You have to dodge them as you both walk around aimlessly. You're now on Decatur, passing the mule-drawn carriages. Those rides are supposed to be romantic but you've never taken one. If that driver knew what the two of you were talking about, would he still yell out his offer?
The words streaming from your partner sound like the utterances of a stranger, not someone you've been married to for three years. It's true a former lover recently e-mailed you, but you only answered out of politeness and not from a desire to keep in touch. You didn't mention it because it didn't seem important. Your action and non-action have been discovered though, and accusations rain down upon you. You can't change the past and you know this will affect the future.
You stand in Jackson Square alone. The artists, musicians and tarot-card readers are packing up and leaving. Soon the serious denizens of the night will appear, in groups and in couples. The tumult will continue, and you will be gone before it is quiet again.