How I Got My First Awakening

As I sat there on the front porch steps of my small Louisiana cottage, feeling drops of sun caress my cheek, I was awakened from my trance-like state by the sensation of eyes burning into my soul—eyes belonging to none other than Robert Lebrun. I had noticed young Robert sneaking glances at me the entire afternoon, brushing his arm against mine ever-so subtly on the long traverse home from our morning swim. I could not help but to admit that his school-boy crush was quite flattering, for a handsome, charming man like Robert could have his choice of any young creole woman east of the Atchafalaya River.

Nonetheless, I could only view our relationship as platonic, for he and I both knew I was spoken for.

Out of the corner of my eye I noticed my husband, Léonce, walking toward the two of us. The crunching sounds of his shoes against the pavement shattered the silence that had become of the calm evening.

He spoke but a few words to me before he said was inclined to go out and play billiards at a hotel located the next town over.

“I will be back later, my dear,” Léonce announced, kissing my forehead gingerly before his departure.

“You always will be back later,” I shot back at him without thinking. Fortunately for me, as with most of the words that part from my tongue, my unconscious utterance befell only the ears of the winds that graced us that autumn night.

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As promised, my husband did not return home until much later that night. His entrance disturbed me from my previously peaceful sleep. I tried my hardest to ignore his mildly inebriated attempts at conversation, for I no longer had the energy to entertain him. I began to slowly drift back asleep until Léonce jarred me awake, insisting that our son was sick. I did not move. If you are so worried about him, I thought, you can help him yourself. This thought, evidently, did not cross his mind, for after his incessant demands, I ended up in the next room caring for our son.

I placed the palm of my hand firmly to his forehead and soft, round cheeks, but felt nothing out of the ordinary. I stayed in that room a few minutes, silently staring at the boys in their slumber. I stood there trying to feel an ounce of the maternal love and nurturing that a mother should feel, but I could not garner so much as a hint of that emotion. I had never really connected with my children; I always thought of them more so as a obligation and a burden than a blessing or a “gift from god,” as every other woman suggested. I returned to my bedroom, not giving my husband so much as a sideways glance, and returned to my place in bed. Lying in bed, still and quiet, a single tear licked the side of my face as I realized the sadness that had become of my life.

A few weeks passed and I continued seeing Robert. We connected. We connected far deeper than Léonce and I ever did. Although I would not admit it to myself then, I found myself missing him while he was away. I felt pangs of jealousy when the young city girls would throw themselves at him. Although I would not admit it to myself then, I was falling in love with Robert Lebrun. It was not until Robert broke my heart that I realized I had given it to him at all.