The staggering magnolia and dogwood trees were in their full Louisianan bloom. Their ivory petals painted the horizon of campus and their fallen petals blanketed the landscape of plush grass. It was not uncommon for one to feel a white petal gently land atop their head on their walk across the springtime campus. It looked like happier snow, and for once, I was feeling happy.
Getting a college degree had admittedly felt like a schoolgirl fantasy of mine. While I had the intellect and the motivation, it did not become tangible reality until I was packing up my dorm to move back home and sat down for a moment to look at the diploma printed on stock paper.
Rebecca Hayes, Bachelor of Education, Focus in French. I couldn't stop running my finger over the indented words and letting them fall in a whisper from my lips. Touching the letters seemed to make it easier to believe.
I gently set the diploma down on my halfway packed bag and moved my eyesight to the window where a dogwood stood right outside. The sun was behind it, and a breeze swayed the tree's flowers, letting the sun flash across my face in increments. I thought about the story that Mama would tell me about Daddy flying to the sun. Of course, I knew now that it was just a fable.
Although I had never gotten the chance to meet him and only had an exaggerated sense of what kind of man he was—which had become diluted as my growing age made sense of Mama's illusions—I sort of felt in that moment that he was there in the sun, smiling at me through the dogwood trees. I knew Mama would tell me the same thing.
As I stood up to finish up packing, there was a knock at my dorm door. Although I had not made any friends of substance during my university years, there was always the occasional knock of neighbors asking if I had any makeup they could borrow. I assumed it was a girl asking for one last borrow until I opened the door and saw the director of my girls' dormitory building.
Having an unannounced visit from the director of the dorm was enough to raise alarm in my head. Had I broken a rule? Was I in trouble? Would my actions expel me and revoke my diploma that I had only just earned?
Mrs. Foreman's polite smile assured me that there was nothing to worry about. "Hello, Miss Hayes," she greeted me, her hands folded together in front of her collared dress.
Mrs. Foreman was a caring director, often serving as a mother to all of the girls in the building. Since I was as quiet as a church mouse, or so everyone labeled me, and I never caused any trouble, I could count with one hand the number of times I'd interacted with Mrs. Foreman over the four years of my stay.
"Hello," I answered, letting the door open a bit wider.
"I just received a call from Dr. Marlar asking for you to visit him in his office at your nearest convenience."
My eyes widened. Dr. Marlar was one of my professors and also the primary instructor of French at the university.
"Oh," I mouthed, clearing my throat and straightening my posture that had suddenly bent. "Thank you."
Mrs. Foreman nodded with a smile, and before she started to turn away, she looked at me for a moment. "It's been wonderful having you, Miss Hayes. You've been such a good resident all this time. Your abidance has certainly made up for all the trouble everyone else has given me."
Over my college years, I'd found that I took a liking to compliments. This wasn't to say that I was conceited or that I sought them out. They were few and far in between, which made each one entirely special. When you grow into a wallflower and avoid attention by the majority, it becomes a remarkable thing when someone picks you out.
The warmth in my chest pushed a smile to my face, and Mrs. Foreman looked a little surprised. "Thank you, Mrs. Foreman. You've taken such good care of all of us."
She knew that I was a woman of few words, so she took my sentence with an affirmative smile before parting from my doorstep.
Mrs. Foreman's gracefulness soon left me as I remembered that Dr. Marlar had beckoned for me. I wouldn't waste another minute without knowing why in the world a professor would ask for me, so I waited for Mrs. Foreman to leave the hallway so she wouldn't be curious by my haste before I quickly left my dorm and made my way to his office across campus.
By the time I made it into the building where nearly all of my classes had been held, I was out of breath and covered in dogwood petals. I brushed them off as I bolted to the stairs, nearly getting lost in the maze of hallways before I found his office by the number on the door. Losing all inhibition and all manners that my mother had hammered into me as a child, I burst through the door.
My manners started coming back to me as Dr. Marlar, who was sitting at his desk littered with papers, looked up at me in surprise. I stood frozen, panting from my wild sprint, and let go of the doorknob with guilt as if I had hurt it.
"Miss Hayes," he greeted me, taking his glasses off and standing up, still looking surprised. Suddenly, I started to choke on the fear that he had never asked for me and it was all some sort of cruel joke, until he spoke again. "I didn't expect you would get here so soon. I was on the phone with Mrs. Foreman only ten minutes ago."
He chuckled a little, and it eased me. I remembered that Dr. Marlar had always been a nice and forgiving professor, and even if it was a cruel joke and he had no idea why I had ran into his office looking as if I were about to scream that the whole campus was on fire, he would take my presence with ease and grace.
"Please, sit down," he spoke, gesturing to the two chairs situated in front of his desk.
Although I had grown accustomed to the stench of cigarettes, the smoke threading upwards from the lit cigarette sitting in a glass ashtray on his desk made my stomach turn. Closing the door much more softly than I had opened it, I flattened the skirt of my dress out of nervous habit and sat down in the chair on the left.
Dr. Marlar waited until I was seated to sit down himself, putting his glasses back on and picking up the cigarette from the ashtray. The breathless moments that I waited for him to take a draw from his cigarette were unbearable. Sensing my impatience, he quickly snuffed it out in the ashtray and wafted his hand around to clear the smoke, smiling sheepishly.
"So, Miss Hayes," he began, leaning forward and folding his hands on the desk, and I found myself leaning forward too. "You have graduated as one of the best students I have ever had."
He paused for a moment, looking at me from above his glasses, and I felt that the pause was expecting gratitude, so I meekly said, "Thank you."
The pause was only for dramatic effect, I assumed, because he kept talking. "You have a drive for knowledge and a self-discipline that I hardly see in undergraduates. You've never missed a day of class, and you've never made lower than an A in any course, on any exam. You have stayed out of trouble, according to Mrs. Foreman, and every other professor that I have spoken with have all recommended you for this position."
A light in my brain clicked on when he said the word position.
He paused again, but before I could scramble up something to say to make up for the silence, he leaned back in his chair and took his glasses off again. "I have a dear friend who I grew up with here in New Orleans. His name is Martin Donnelley."
I instantly recognized that last name. Though the Donnelleys were no longer around there, I often saw their names in newspapers discussing their history in the state of Louisiana. They were one of the richest families in the state, thanks to their investments in the oil boom.
"Mr. Donnelley comes from a family who amassed great wealth during the Lousiana oil boom at the turn of the century. He grew up across the street from me."
I couldn't help but think of Greg. He was nowhere near an oil tycoon, but he did live across the street from me. I wondered, if he had survived high school, if I would have talked about him one day as a dear friend who lived across the street from me. I supposed I still could, even if he was gone.
"He left Louisiana to attend the University of California, and he now has a large estate in Los Angeles after he diverted the Donnelley oil interests to Californian oil, which has certainly proved him as one of the richest men in the country." He leaned forward again. "And now he has a family, and he's trying to educate his children the best he possibly can. In the fall and spring, they attend an elite private school. Summers are held for special interests, like horseback riding, piano lessons, and, of course, teaching them new languages." He paused for a moment, a giddy smile forming on his face. "French."
He paused longer this time, and I knew he was expecting me to say something. I was very confused on why he was telling me about his rich old friend, and even after he signaled that his children were learning French, I still had not caught on.
"Oh, that's..." I trailed, my eyes darting across the carpeted floor. "That's good for them, I suppose."
Dr. Marlar smiled sheepishly again. "Miss Hayes, Mr. Donnelley contacted me earlier in this semester asking me to equip him with a summer French instructor for his children. Martin is an ambitious man. He wants the best, and he will get the best. And the best—is you."
The wheels in my head started to turn, and I widened my eyes in surprise. This was a job offer—a hefty one.
"This job would begin as soon as you agree and end at the end of summer, upon which you would be given a lump-sum payment." He waited again, and then he leaned forward and whispered the amount of the payment.
My mouth fell open. All I could think about at first was the fact that people had this much money to spend on recreational learning, and I also thought about the fact that it was more money than Mama and I had ever seen. It was more than anyone on our street had seen.
"So..." Dr. Marlar said with a smug smile. "What do you say, Miss Hayes?"
I started to sweat in his leather chair. "You said... they live in California?"
"In the mountains of sunny Los Angeles. All your moving expenses would be taken care of, as well as your living expenses. You would be staying on their estate where they live."
I had never been outside of Louisiana. The farthest I had gotten from home was a ten minute drive to campus. Mama had been anxiously waiting for me to come back home. I was set to start teaching French at the elementary school near our house. She had already cleaned my bedroom for me to come back.
"I can't."
Dr. Marlar's face dropped and went pale. "Miss Hayes," he said seriously. "I don't think you quite understand what an honor and opportunity it is that I am giving you. The Donnelleys have money, and they have connections. You work for them and do a good job, which I am most assured you would, you could be set for life. You—" He stopped, rubbing the lines in his forehead. "You have attended college on the highest scholarship we offer, and you still have debts up to your neck, am I right?"
I glanced down to my feet. I couldn't feel them anymore.
"This job... This summer job would make all of that go away. You wouldn't have to worry about money for a long, long time. You wouldn't have to worry about finding a job later. Rebecca, you are the brightest student I have ever seen. I wouldn't offer Martin anything less than you. If you miss out on this..."
I thought about Mama. She had worked herself raw her entire life to provide for me, and it still hadn't been enough. For all she has done for me, perhaps I could repay her with providing her financial stability for the rest of her life.
I thought about myself. I was so shelled up. I had forged a wall of stone around myself so that I could live comfortably. Live in the same town, same house, with no one but Mama for the rest of my life.
I thought about Madame Vionette and what she said to me in the Café. She said that I was lucky.
My fingers shook as they tugged at the fabric ofmy skirt. I looked back up to Dr. Marlar, who looked as if he was watching aflaming comet head straight towards earth. I said yes.