"I died for beauty...", Belle started quoting Dickinson's Death poem again. Where she got the poem was another mystery. We both had ashes on our foreheads, in honor of Ash Wednesday. We'd partied all day yesterday, into the night, and got home about midnight.
"...Until the moss had reached our lips and covered up our names," she dramatically collapsed on the couch. Belle was dressed all in black, she'd dressed up for 7 o'clock mass at the cathedral and since I was her "constant companion", as I was introduced, I was along for the duration.
I guess we were catholics now. I didn't know if she was baptised in any faith, I know I didn't know what I knew about any religion in my life. I know.
But, as her companion, I escorted her to the church, with holy water crossed on our chests, genuflecting at the pew, up to communion and out the door past the priest, to whom she talked to about what an inspirational service/talk he'd given. I stood silently and smiled and nodded in agreement.
We had danced with the krewes as they had passed us by in the quarter, singing and cheering the parades until the end of the day. Now we were ashed and could relax. I painted while Belle continued to sprawl on the couch. Finally I applauded.
I put the finishing touches on the second charm painting. Belle especially liked the finches and had made us both wear finch costumes all yesterday. Lots of feathers. She looked astounding. I looked just plain silly. But I was only her "constant companion" and cheerfully accepted my roll.
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