Heavenly Father, this is a special prayer for all marriages everywhere, but esp for BD's. Let Your Will be done, Lord. Your Will. In Jesus' Name. Amen.
A decade ago, I promised myself I’d visit a
My eyes fell on “Haunted History Tours!” (HHT’s!).
At nine o’clock, we joined a large crowd of people in front of a voo-doo shop. Two men were on a stage in front of the store. One of the men was rallying the crowd to take his HHT. He succeeded, as half the group left with him.
The other cajoling young man, who boldly told us his name was Reve, was dressed like French aristocracy, and somehow his shoulder-length brown hair complimented his attire. He was handsome; six feet tall, with high check bones and an angular face. Something about Reve’s demeanor, passion, and animation resonated with my own sense of adventure.
As we began the tour, I noticed Reve slowing his pace, as if he were going to make a comment to me, and glancing at me often.
I was mystified by him.
At the drinkery where the tour took a break, I didn’t have to look across the bar to know Reve was staring at me intently – his gaze carried heat.
“Oh! You all are friends!” Reve suddenly blurts out as he walks around the bar and joins Roger and me. Reve and I immediately fall into rather lively chatter about the tour, and N.O. in general.
After the tour, and after Roger has given Reve a tip, he informs me, “Reve is having a drink with us.”
“Oh?” I grin innocently.
We walk with Reve to a pirate-decorated hang-out. As Reve’s face flirtatiously floats dangerously close to mine, I wonder how Reve thinks this evening will end. I bet our stories don’t match.
Reve grabs my hand and pulls me into what appears to be a small prison cell, complete with bars, but no doors. He and I snugly sit next to each other, but as Reve leans in for a kiss, I move across from him. His left eyebrow arches.
I laugh at him light-heartedly.
At the end of the evening, Reve and I exchange phone numbers and promise to keep in touch.
It’s Fall before I see him again.
Roger returns with me to N.O., and Reve picks us up from the airport.
The wonderful rapport between Reve and I re-connects us easily.
Reve tells us that he doesn’t have the job with the HHT company anymore, and that he has been looking for work.
Before we arrive at Reve’s house, he takes us on a four-wheeling escapade through a dirt parking lot. Pure exhilaration! We are all laughing as the truck jerks and shakes us through the rough motions of Reve’s handling.
Reve’s house has two lamps light by fire on either side of the door. It gives the house a dreamy feel. Roger and I unpack.
Reve makes us Jambalaya for lunch. His house is a wreck: an enormous amount of dishes are in the sink, and the kitchen is in general disarray. My heart is moved with compassion as I see evidence of depression in other corners of the house.
Roger and I begin cleaning up the place for Reve, mostly focusing on the kitchen. Reve is in his room tidying up, and playing music while each of us cleans. At one point, when I’m approaching Reve’s room to ask him where a particular Tupperware container goes, I abruptly hear the first few notes of a song by my favorite band. When I reach Reve’s room, piqued with anticipation, he smiles broadly at me. I am pleased he remembered, from just a few conversations between us, that this is my preferred band.
Roger and I want to go to the French Quarter for the evening, but this isn’t such a great idea to Reve.
“Since leaving my job, I’d rather avoid some of the people down there.”
Roger is okay going by himself to the FQ, while Reve and I go to a private party.
Upon dropping Roger off, Reve declares, “I know why you brought Roger.”
“Really, why?”
“So that you and I don’t ‘do’ anything.” He smirks.
Silence.
“Hey, would you like to drive my truck?”
“What?!...No.”
Too late. Reve is already in an empty lot, out of the truck, and waiting beside the passenger’s side seat for me to get into the driver’s seat.
Reve’s truck is a beast! It is an 80’s Ford Bronco, which is huge! I am fairly tall, but behind the wheel of this vehicle I felt like a gnome. Reve thoroughly enjoys my discomfort, but I determinedly handle the creature with grace and recklessness.
It’s time to pick Roger up from the FQ. Reve holds my hand as we drive downtown.
Reve has Roger drive us home, and then he settles in next to me in the back seat. I nestle my head on Reve’s shoulder, and soon I am sleepily leaning on him; he wraps an arm around me.
Back at Reve’s house, when we’re getting ready for bed, I inform Reve, “I saw a spare bedroom beside the kitchen; I’ll be sleeping there tonight.” Reve looks at me curiously. I leave the room, change into my pajamas, and climb into bed. Ten minutes later, I feel Reve crawl into bed with me. Thankfully, he is a complete gentleman, and we fall asleep fairly quickly.
In the morning, Reve states, “I remembered the reason I don’t sleep in this room. This bed is awful!”
At the airport the next morning, as Reve grabs my suitcase from the truck, I wrap myself tighter in my long, black cloak of a coat, pulling the hood over my head as tiny snowflakes begin to fall.
Reve and I hug our good-byes.
It was the last time I ever saw him.
"I am a little pencil in the hand of a writing God who is sending a love letter to the world." Mother Theresa
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