I stand in front of the makeshift church that the men built when Governor Bienville first staked out this land. Men like the Governor Bienville as well. He has visited recently; I do not like the way he appears to be. But I hear from some of the women who have the gossip that he several tattoos on his chest. The thought of someone as dignified and militant as Governor Bienville bearing strange tattoos is enough to make me giggle.
He reminds me of those military men from France, with the blank face and icy stare. When he looked at us mutinous women the day he visited, I could tell that he did not truly care for our presence there and we were only there out of pure necessity for the men of this outpost.
I do not want to think of what lies ahead the I step inside the cypress-wood church. I have already met the man they chose to be my husband — a blacksmith. He seems to have an honorable trade and seems to be a dutiful laborer, but there is something about the way he looks at me.
I do not quite know what it is, but there is something unreadable about his brown eyes. His stance. His words. They are not harsh, but there is something there that I do not comprehend. Perhaps it is because I have seen the worst in people for one decade, or perhaps it is the truth that I have been cut off from the rest of the world?
A gust of humid, sticky wind that smells like burning rubber and feces overpowers me as I still stand by the church. I do not want to go in. I know this man waits for me inside and yet I am still here, frozen in place. I wish that I had a choice in the matter, that I can be free to live as I please, but I suppose this is my lot in life. From one form of shackles to the next. I shudder at the thought of it. Being tied to him in this manner. He is not much older than me, he says that he is one year older than me and we were born in the same neighborhood of Paris.
I wonder if our circumstances were different, would our paths have crossed? Would he have at least become friends? I do not know. Lord, my mind is racing.
I pace around the grounds, running through every possible thing I should do. I close my eyes and try to remember something happy in my life, but there is nothing. All I see is the prison. that God-forsaken ship I want to remove, body and soul, from my life. I see them in my sleep every night, the women who died one by one, each death harder than the other because we grew to know one another like family with the passing of time. The man at Dauphin Island forcing us away because we are worse than scum of the earth. I try to keep it all out of my mind, but I just cannot. It stays with me like an anvil pressed against my heart. My stomach ties up in knots.
Footsteps. I turn and see one of the women, someone whom I have latched onto since our time at the prison and now. Bernadette Fournier, the older woman who has become both like a sister and mother to me.
“Bernadette,” I say, choking my words as tears cascade down my cheek. “I cannot do this.”
“I know it is difficult, but this is what our fates are,” she says, embracing me. “It is only out of necessity, Marie Antoinette. Remember that. If the men did not need us, we would be free to live our lives the way we wish.”
“Why does it have to be this way?” I suck in putrid air. “God, it stinks. My wedding day and it smells like shit.”
Bernadette laughs and embraces me again. “It will be all right, Marie. Go inside. Do your part. He is fearful you have changed your mind and the priest is becoming irate with impatience. It is not looking pretty.”
I nod, my heart dropping. I am a fool to think that Bernadette would talk me out of this. She has been supportive of me since the day we became friends at Salpetriere, but I know what must do. There is no escaping my fate. I must marry him.
With her arms around mine, she guides me inside the church. There are small windows barely illuminating sunlight, they shine through, the shapes like pale shards scattered all across the church. There are a few women and other men from here watching my every move.
The women do not smile for me, but I do see the sadness in their eyes. Sadness that we were not able to choose the life that we wanted from the beginning.
I take one step, then another. Officer Nicolas Moreau gives me a lazy nod with a sympathetic smile. It comforts me a little but not enough. I still feel his gaze on me as I continue walking toward the priest and my groom.
The creaking wood groans beneath me, the sound bringing me back to the ship. I am frozen as I see my future husband, looking on at me with wide eyes, expecting me to make another step.
If I had just gone the other way in the Paris streets instead of walking in the path of those power hungry officers, I would be sitting at the dinner table with my maman and papa, sharing with them the fruits of my labor as a flower seller. I would not be here in this swampy, mosquito ridden place. I look down at the flimsy bouquet of light pink azaleas whose petals are drooping, caving in on themselves. If I so much breathe on it, the flowers will fly away, scattering about the church.
The priest looks at me with an arched brow, shaking his head as he gestures for me to come hither.
One step. Another. Then another. Oh, God. I cannot do this. I have to turn back. Must do it. Maybe I can swim the Mississippi River? Maybe I can try to get back to Biloxi? Mobile? Who am I kidding? The moment I bring myself into that river it will be the death of me.
“It is about time,” the priest says, his gruff voice like the sound of burning logs. “You do understand you have kept us waiting for nearly an hour?” He raises his voice, his skin growing red.
“I am sorry, so very sorry, Father Bernard,” I say, gulping against my dry mouth. “I am ready.”
I turn to look at my groom. He is well built, strong arms, chest. Manly. But there is something about him that I cannot He half smiles, but his eyes are unreadable. They are as I expect them to look. Rather disinterested, but curious about me. Yet at the same time, he turns away and faces the priest. “Get on with it.”
While I want every moment to pass like melasse.
ns 15.158.61.21da2
