This made them all giggle into their shoulders and tug at each other’s arms. “Red-Rover, Red-Rover, send Malakai right over!” I ran hard and I made it through. I was golden. I felt the sun on my shoulders and the children laughed. They looked at me to rejoin the line with their hands out. I was taller than all of them. I did not want to be taller than any of them. I stared at their hands and at the gap. I wanted to play all night. An adult yelled supper from a porch. The hands dropped. The lines broke and four of the children ran off. The others decided it was a good time to go and left. “Goodbye, Malakai!” I said nothing to the children as they ran away. The sun was setting and everything was pink and no one was in the streets. The next day was Fat Tuesday, the day of New Orleans. The city emptied to the parade routes on Fat Tuesday. I went to work at the church and caught the trolley home when the sun began to set. I didn’t have anyone to go to the parade with so I decided to not go. The trolleys heading into the city were full of people in costumes and masks and their mouths were all open in laughs or shouts and they all looked very happy with one another. I got off and walked to Magazine St. Miss Mae’s neon eponym was seared in red below the pink sunset. The outside of the bar was black and both of the doors were
SEAHORSE RODEO FOLK REVIEW
AUGUST 2010
propped open to the night and the street light at the corner began to glow. I sat at the bar. Miss Mae sat at the end of the bar in a blue cloud of smoke, looking at me, and the presbyopic bartender stood in front of a line of liquor bottles one hundred deep in the mirror. “A beer, please,” I said. He reached down and handed me a beer. “What will you have for the lady?” he said softly. “I just wanted a beer for myself.” “What will you have for the lady?” “I just want to drink the beer I ordered.” I looked around and no one but Miss Mae staring at me was in the bar. She bent her neck back and blew more smoke. “Please, I don’t mean to offend her, but I don’t see why I need to buy her a drink. I’m not looking for trouble.” I looked at Miss Mae to my left. She said nothing and took a long drag. “Leave him be. He doesn’t know,” said a calm voice to my right. The man in the white suit was sitting next to me. “The lady will have a vodka from me and a beer from the young man,” said the man in the white suit to the bartender. The bartender made the drinks and placed them in front of Miss Mae. “No,” I said. Something shifted in me, magnetized to the surface. “Every year, on Fat Tuesday, for every