The city didn’t give me love.
It reminded me I already had it.
In myself.
In every random dance move.
Every bite of spice-laced food.
Every eye-roll turned giggle.
Every “yes” I said to fun, freedom, and being seen.
New Orleans didn’t break me down to build me up.
It just whispered,
“You were whole when you got here, baby. You just forgot.”
And then, like I had a live mic in my chest, I cupped my hands and shouted off the balcony.
“CHEERS TO THE HEAUX PHASE!”
My voice bounced off buildings like the city caught it, held it, and folded it into the soul of itself. It wasn’t for anyone in particular. But maybe someone heard me. Maybe it was for me.
A thank you. A goodbye.
I stood there a few seconds longer, then turned around, grabbed my purse, and walked out. Maison was parked out front, leaning against the car.
“Ready?” he asked as he opened the passenger door.
I didn’t answer right away. I looked up at him, the man who helped me taste life again, and said,
“Not ready… but I have to take everything I learned from here back home with me. So yeah… I’m ready.”
He smiled, leaned over, and kissed my forehead.
We got in the car and drove off, the rearview mirror shrinking New Orleans behind us, but never out of reach.
Because some cities don’t just leave a mark. They leave a mirror. To show you who you’ve always been.
And I was always that girl.
I just needed a little creole cooking, a little good dick, and a little getaway to remember.
The ride to the airport was quiet. The kind that happens when something was too good to put into a sentence. Maison parked at Departures and hopped out. He opened the trunk and grabbed my suitcase while I stood there pretending I wasn’t two blinks away from crying. I hated goodbyes, but that one was different.
We hugged tight and long. Like we were saying thank you without actually saying it.
He pulled back just a little, looked down at me, and kissed me so soft, like he wanted me to remember it a year later and still feel it in my chest.
“I got you something,” he said, handing me a small black box.
I opened it and paused. Inside was a delicate gold necklace with one word spelled out in dainty, cursive letters:
Heaux.
I blinked, smiled, and let out a teary laugh.
