Explorer. She waved as Frank backed out of her driveway.
“So, what do you think of New Orleans so far?” I asked, turning in my seat.
Taylor blushed furiously but grinned in a way that was so like Frank my heart almost skipped a beat. “I haven’t really seen much of it,” he confessed. “Rain just picked me up at the airport and we rushed home so we could see Uncle Frank’s match.” His eyes got wider. “That was awesome ,Uncle Frank. I never knew you were a professional wrestler.” His face clouded. “Mom didn’t tell me anything about you.”
“Well, for one thing, you don’t have to call me uncle .”Frank smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “I told you, Frank’s fine.”
“And I’m Scotty,” I insisted. “No formality, okay?”
Frank headed up to Claiborne Avenue. “This isn’t quite the scenic route, but it’s quicker, Taylor,” he explained as he stopped at the light at Nashville.
“I think this is the way we came last night.” He looked out the window.
“Probably,” I replied as we started heading down Claiborne. “This way doesn’t really show the city off at its best, but we have all summer to show you around.”
“Thanks again,” he replied. “I’ll try not to be much of a bother.”
My heart broke a little at the sad tone in his voice. What kind of parents do you have? I wondered. Aloud I said, “You’re no bother, Taylor, really. You’re family .”I glanced over at Frank, who smiled back at me, reaching over to pat my leg with his big hand.
No one really spoke again until we reached Esplanade—although I did look into the back when we drove past the Superdome to see the starry-eyed look on Taylor’s face, and again when Claiborne passed behind St. Louis Cemetery Number One. He looked like an excited little boy, absolutely adorable. I felt some of my worry about having him around start to slip away. One of the things I loved about being a native was showing the city off to strangers—and how much fun would it be to show off New Orleans to an eighteen-year-old from rural Alabama? The food, the music, the gay bars, the architecture—I could easily spend the entire summer being a tourist with him. I started making a list in my head of all the places I needed to take him when we made the turn down Esplanade Avenue toward the river.
“Wow,” he said as we drove past the big beautiful old houses. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“What was Corinth like?” I asked.
“Ugly,” he mumbled. “Everything about Corinth was ugly. Especially the people.”
And my heart ached a little bit more, and I vowed to make sure he had the time of his life while he was staying with us. You never have to go back there ,I thought determinedly. This is your home now. Fuck your parents.
Frank dropped us off on Decatur in front of the house and headed off to the parking lot.
“There used to be a coffee shop here,” I explained as Taylor stared at the boarded-over windows on the first floor of our building, unable to mask the shock on his face.
“Was this because of Katrina?” he asked solemnly.
I laughed. “No, the owners got divorced and they shut down, so our landladies boarded over the windows to prevent break-ins. Millie and Velma own the building, and they live on the second floor,” I explained as I unlocked the gate and opened the door. “We live on the third and fourth floors.” I led him down the dark passageway to the back courtyard, remembering how weird this must all seem to him, especially when we reached the sunlight again. Millie and Velma had done an excellent job with the courtyard. In the center a fountain bubbled with koi darting around in the water. Millie, in fact, was trimming back the roses as we entered the courtyard. “Millie! This is Frank’s nephew, Taylor. He’s going to be staying with us awhile.”
Millie straightened up and grinned at us. She was wearing a pair of cut-off blue jeans and a white T-shirt with Frank’s picture in full
“So, what do you think of New Orleans so far?” I asked, turning in my seat.
Taylor blushed furiously but grinned in a way that was so like Frank my heart almost skipped a beat. “I haven’t really seen much of it,” he confessed. “Rain just picked me up at the airport and we rushed home so we could see Uncle Frank’s match.” His eyes got wider. “That was awesome ,Uncle Frank. I never knew you were a professional wrestler.” His face clouded. “Mom didn’t tell me anything about you.”
“Well, for one thing, you don’t have to call me uncle .”Frank smiled at him in the rearview mirror. “I told you, Frank’s fine.”
“And I’m Scotty,” I insisted. “No formality, okay?”
Frank headed up to Claiborne Avenue. “This isn’t quite the scenic route, but it’s quicker, Taylor,” he explained as he stopped at the light at Nashville.
“I think this is the way we came last night.” He looked out the window.
“Probably,” I replied as we started heading down Claiborne. “This way doesn’t really show the city off at its best, but we have all summer to show you around.”
“Thanks again,” he replied. “I’ll try not to be much of a bother.”
My heart broke a little at the sad tone in his voice. What kind of parents do you have? I wondered. Aloud I said, “You’re no bother, Taylor, really. You’re family .”I glanced over at Frank, who smiled back at me, reaching over to pat my leg with his big hand.
No one really spoke again until we reached Esplanade—although I did look into the back when we drove past the Superdome to see the starry-eyed look on Taylor’s face, and again when Claiborne passed behind St. Louis Cemetery Number One. He looked like an excited little boy, absolutely adorable. I felt some of my worry about having him around start to slip away. One of the things I loved about being a native was showing the city off to strangers—and how much fun would it be to show off New Orleans to an eighteen-year-old from rural Alabama? The food, the music, the gay bars, the architecture—I could easily spend the entire summer being a tourist with him. I started making a list in my head of all the places I needed to take him when we made the turn down Esplanade Avenue toward the river.
“Wow,” he said as we drove past the big beautiful old houses. “It’s so beautiful here.”
“What was Corinth like?” I asked.
“Ugly,” he mumbled. “Everything about Corinth was ugly. Especially the people.”
And my heart ached a little bit more, and I vowed to make sure he had the time of his life while he was staying with us. You never have to go back there ,I thought determinedly. This is your home now. Fuck your parents.
Frank dropped us off on Decatur in front of the house and headed off to the parking lot.
“There used to be a coffee shop here,” I explained as Taylor stared at the boarded-over windows on the first floor of our building, unable to mask the shock on his face.
“Was this because of Katrina?” he asked solemnly.
I laughed. “No, the owners got divorced and they shut down, so our landladies boarded over the windows to prevent break-ins. Millie and Velma own the building, and they live on the second floor,” I explained as I unlocked the gate and opened the door. “We live on the third and fourth floors.” I led him down the dark passageway to the back courtyard, remembering how weird this must all seem to him, especially when we reached the sunlight again. Millie and Velma had done an excellent job with the courtyard. In the center a fountain bubbled with koi darting around in the water. Millie, in fact, was trimming back the roses as we entered the courtyard. “Millie! This is Frank’s nephew, Taylor. He’s going to be staying with us awhile.”
Millie straightened up and grinned at us. She was wearing a pair of cut-off blue jeans and a white T-shirt with Frank’s picture in full
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