S.E.C.R.E.T. (Secret 1)

She eyed me, her whole body relaxing now that she had this out of her system.

“Just say congratulations, Cassie. Leave it at that.”

“Congratulations,” I said, moving in for an awkward hug. I couldn’t breathe for a second, so when the doors chimed, I used it as an excuse and quickly walked out front.

But it wasn’t a customer. It was Will, looking as haunted as I’d ever seen him.

“Cassie!”

“I gotta go,” I said. “Tracina’s in the kitchen.”

“Cassie, wait! I didn’t know! What can I do? What can I say?”

I turned to face him. “Nothing, Will. You’ve made your choice. There’s nothing more to do.”

Tears spilled down my cheeks. He reached out to wipe them, but I moved his arm away.

“Please don’t go, Cassie,” he whispered, begged.

I plucked my coat off the rack and threw it on, leaving the door open as I walked out of Café Rose. As I went south on Frenchmen, the cold rain began to subside. My walk turned to a jog at Decatur as I made my way through the French Quarter, already waking up to the day’s festivities. At Canal, Mardi Gras madness was gearing up and I moved through the crowd at a crazed pace. I had to get out of here. At Magazine, when I bent over, gasping to catch my breath, I realized I was still wearing my waitressing apron. I didn’t care. Images of my body entwined with Will’s flashed through my mind. His kisses, his chest flexing beneath me, the way he cradled my head in his hands. I clutched my side as the sobs wrenched their way to the surface. My Will, my future, dissolved. Just like that. I let a packed bus pass, then another one. I decided to walk to Third Street so I could keep crying, not caring who saw me, the throngs of tourists fighting for a prime spot on the parade route.

Oh, Will. I loved him, but there was nothing to do. I couldn’t be the woman who took a father away from his baby. One perfect night, that’s what we had, and now I had to let it go. I’d learned from the other men how to be with them, then let them go. Could I do this with Will? I had to try.

Crossing under the Pontchartrain Expressway, I started to feel my body relax as the tourists thinned out. The dank smell of the French Quarter gave way to the scent of flowering vines snaking up the houses in the Lower Garden District. The rain had stopped and the widening sidewalks put my heart at ease.

Turning up Third, I was reminded of my first foray down this lush street and how my fear had stopped me in my tracks so many times that day. Now, I stood here again, soaking wet, my heart bruised. I was once so afraid of the world. And even though I was in pain, the fear was gone, replaced with a true and real sense of myself. I had my feet on the ground. I was heavy-hearted, but I would survive this and be made stronger. I knew what I wanted. I knew what I had to do.

Danica buzzed me past the entrance. I made my way slowly across the courtyard, marveling at how spring came to New Orleans in February. Before I even knocked on the big red door, Matilda opened it, an expectant smile on her face.

“Cassie. Are you here for your final charm?”

“I am.”

“So you’ve made your decision?”

“I have.”

“Are you saying goodbye to us, or are you choosing S.E.C.R.E.T?”

I stepped over the threshold and handed Danica my wet coat. “I’m choosing S.E.C.R.E.T.”

Matilda clapped her hands, then placed them on my cheeks.

“First let’s dry those tears, Cassie. Then we’ll phone the Committee. Danica, put some coffee on. It’s going to be a long meeting,” she said, gently shutting the big red door behind us.