Dishing Up Love

“More than two hundred years later, in the year 1978, two paranormal investigators came and visited the convent to see if the legends were true. They were kicked off the property for loitering but secretly returned anyway to stay the night and see what happened. While they slept, the security cameras showed the windows opening and shutting several times before stopping. And the next morning—” Ronnie points to the few steps leading up to the front of the church. “—the bodies of the investigators were found… ravaged and drained of blood.”

“Whoa,” I breathe, taking another look at the building that suddenly seems way creepier than it had before.

“At this time, I’ll give you a minute to take pictures and read the placards if you’d like,” Ronnie says, and a couple of women take off across the street toward the steps in front of the church. I feel Erin’s body shake a little with laughter as we watch one of the women lie across the steps, apparently pretending to be drained of blood except for her huge yardstick margherita she holds in the air while her friend snaps pictures. When she stands, she takes a swig from the straw before trading places with the other woman, who seems a little more creeped out being that close to the convent. She just stands next to the sign and holds up her finger to point at it while she gets her photo taken.

As they make their way back to our group, we hear the excitement in their voices as they check the photos on the phone for “orbs.”

“If we’re all ready, we’ll head to stop number two,” Ronnie prompts, and everyone gives an affirmation.

“We are named Louisiana because at the time we were founded, King Louis the Fourteenth was the ruler of France. So we are the ‘Land of Louis.’ We had two major fires that ravaged our beautiful city, so what you see now is nothing like it looked when we were first built up over three hundred years ago, the French Quarter being the first neighborhood here. The first fire was in 1788, on Good Friday. We had eleven hundred buildings, and eighty percent of them were burnt to the ground. That means it burned down eight hundred and fifty-six buildings in one night. The next fire was in 1794, and it started just a block away from the first fire, meaning we hadn’t even had time to rebuild all the ones that had originally burned down. It burned down two hundred more,” Ronnie tells us.

“Most of the French colonial buildings that were here to begin with were built out of cypress, and you might’ve seen all the cypress trees all over the city. It’s oily. It’s amazing for hurricanes, but oil… is used to burn. Which is why we lost nearly the entirety of New Orleans in just one fire, two—no pun intended—just added fuel to the fire. The town was devastated. But we loved our home here, so rebuilt we did. This time, we built everything out of the brick and stucco we are now known for. All these buildings, all the beautiful courtyards, it’s all Spanish architecture from when we were taken over. But more on that history later.

“These days, we only have three of the original French buildings left. Three out of the original eleven hundred. Now, if you take a look at this building we’re standing in front of, this green and white structure was a place of residence. Notice how it looks completely out of place, like it doesn’t belong. Sort of looks like a giant version of the old man’s house in Up when they built the skyscrapers around it when he wouldn’t sell, right?”

“Saddest movie in history,” I murmur in Erin’s ear.

She turns wide eyes to me. “Right? I cry through the entire thing, even when I fast-forward through the first fifteen minutes.”

“It’s the only one out of the three original French buildings that was a place of residence. Its style is called a raised French colonial,” Ronnie explains, which makes sense. The bottom floor looks like a five-car garage, and above that is a wraparound balcony encasing the second floor, where the home actually sits. “Some fun facts about this place. It was used in the movie Twelve Years a Slave and also the coffin scene in Interview with the Vampire.”

“Oh, shit. No way! I love that fucking movie,” I whisper, and Erin nods excitedly.

“Me too! I could show you all the places Anne Rice owns around the city,” she tells me, and I grin internally once again at her wanting to keep me around a little longer. Could this be my “in” with her? Could I possibly use her love of the city to get to know her more? I wonder just how many days I could get her to spend with me, showing me around and telling me stories of all the rich history of this fascinating place.