"You never have trouble doing it for Gisselle," Daphne remarked, but she moved forward and attached the corsage.
"Thank you," I said. She nodded. "Give my regards to the maitre d'," she told Beau.
"I will."
I took Beau's arm and eagerly let him lead me out the front door and to his car.
"You look great," he said after we got in.
"So do you."
"Thanks." We pulled away.
"Gisselle didn't come back from Claudine's yet," I told him.
"They're having a party," he said.
"Oh. They called to invite you?"
"Yes." He smiled. "But I told them I had more important things to do," he added, and I laughed, finally feeling as if the heavy cloud of anxiety had begun to move off. It felt good to relax a little and enjoy something for a change.
I couldn't help but be nervous again when we entered the restaurant. It was filled with many fine and distinguished looking men and women, all of whom gazed up from their plates or turned from their conversations to look us over when we entered and were shown our table. I went through the litany of things Daphne had recited to me on the way to and from the beauty parlor--how to sit up straight and hold my silverware, which fork was for what, putting the napkin on my lap, eating slowly with my mouth closed, letting Beau order our dinners,..
"And if you should drop something, a knife, a spoon, don't you pick it up. That's what the waiters and busboys are there to do," she said. She kept adding new thoughts. "Don't slurp your soup the way they eat gumbo in the bayou."
She made me feel so self-conscious, I was sure I would do something disgraceful and embarrass Beau and myself. I trembled walking through the restaurant, trembled after we were seated, and trembled when it was time to chose my silverware and begin to eat.
Beau did all he could to make me feel relaxed. He continually complimented me and tried telling jokes about other students we both knew. Whenever something was served, he explained what it was and how it had been prepared.
"The only reason I know all this," he said, "is because my mother is amusing herself by learning how to be a gourmet chef. It's driving everyone in the family crazy."
I laughed and ate, remembering Daphne's final warning: "Don't finish everything and wipe the plate clean. It's more feminine to be full faster and not look like some farmhand feeding her face."
Even though the dinner was sumptuous and it was very elegantly served, I was too nervous to really enjoy it and actually felt relieved when the check came and we rose to leave. I had gotten through this elegant dinner date without doing anything Daphne could criticize, I thought. No matter what happened, I would be a success in her eyes, and for some reason, even though she was often unpleasant to me, her admiration and approval remained important. It was as if I wanted to win the respect of royalty.
"It's early," Beau said when we left the restaurant. "Can we take a little ride?"
"Okay."
I had no idea where we were going, but before I knew it, we had left the busier part of the city behind us. Beau talked about places he had been and places he wanted very much to see. When I asked him what he wanted to do with his life, he said he was thinking very seriously of becoming a doctor.
"That would be wonderful, Beau."
"Of course," he added, smiling, "I'm just blowing air right now. Once I find out what's involved, I'll probably back out. I usually do."
"Don't talk about yourself that way, Beau. If you really want to do something, you will."
"You make it sound easy, Ruby. In fact, you have a way of making the most difficult and troubling things look like nothing. Why just look at the way you've already memorized your part in the play and made some of the other students gain confidence in themselves. . . including me, I might add . . ." He shook his head. "Gisselle is always putting things down, belittling things I like. She's so . . . negative sometimes."
"Maybe she's not as happy as she pretends to be," I wondered aloud.
"Yeah, maybe that's it. But you've got every reason to be unhappy and yet, you don't let other people feel you're unhappy."
"My grandmere Catherine taught me that," I said, smiling. "She taught me to be hopeful, to believe in tomorrow." He grimaced with confusion.
"You make her sound so good and yet she was part of the Cajun family that bought you as a stolen baby, right?" he asked.
"Yes, but . . she didn't learn about it until years later," I said, quickly covering up. "And by that time, it was too late."