Marie's Tomb

The Kia Forte rolled to a stop on the unlit Basin Street, just south of St. Louis Cemetery No. 1. Four figures emerged from the vehicle beside the graveyard's whitewashed brick wall, its surface reflecting the eerie glow of the waning moon.

Dominique Tran's sister Lela, an enthusiastic first time visitor to New Orleans, had concocted the idea. They were to infiltrate the cemetery under the cover of darkness, each entering from a different side, in a race to locate the tomb of Marie Laveau, the 19th-century voodoo queen of New Orleans. The winner would be treated to a feast at Cooter Brown's Tavern, the runner up would buy the drinks, the third placer pays for the oyster, and the loser gets to stay sober and drive everybody home.

"Could you pop the trunk, Lela?" Jenny Desautel requested. "We should stow our keys and wallets there to avoid losing them while climbing walls. I really, really, really don’t want to go hunting for lost keys in a cemetery at night."

Agreeing, they deposited their belongings in the trunk, which Lela promptly locked. Then they dispersed to their assigned starting positions.

Dominique Tran sauntered to his designated point of entry on Conti street, distracted by the ominous feeling that he had failed the organic chemistry final test earlier that afternoon, again. Already failed the same class last semester, bungling second chance he was given would undoubtedly result in a summon to the dean’s office where he would likely be advised to reconsider his plan of pursuing a career in medicine. He wondered how many aspiring psychiatrists had to curtail their dreams due to inability to master organic chemistry.

Dominique casted a grateful gaze at the lanky silhouette of Phil Gautier ahead who was just rounding the corner to his starting position. Phil was Dominique's roommate in college who had finished his undergraduate studies in in two and half years and became a PhD candidate in organic chemistry at Tulane College of Science and Medicine two years before Dominique matriculated as a medical student. 

Despite his demanding schedule, Phil had devoted himself to aiding Dominique in his exam preparations, offering daily tutoring sessions over the past two months. Phil's effort weighed heavily on Dominique, filling him with a profound sense guilt at the thought of disappointing his friend.

In the desolate gloom of Conti street Dominique halted midway down the block and waited. In minutes his cellphone buzzed. It was a group call from Lela, ensuring everyone was in the ready position, and then she gave the signal to commence their escapade. The medical student haul himself over the wall and landed on the inside of the graveyard, immersing himself in the scent of musky earth and the chill of river mist. 

St. Louis Cemetery No 1 opened in the late 18th century and emulated the contemporary French and Spanish practice of above the ground burials. Tombs of neoclassical design with Romanesque arches and fluted Greek columns lined up like houses, leaving avenue and boulevards of walkways in between them.

Dominique Tran did not bother to read the epitaphs in his search, opting for a more expeditious strategy. Traversing the width of the cemetery along its central pass way, he gazed left and right, meticulously scanning each alleyway lined with solemn rows of graves. Then, having completed his survey of the cemetery's breadth, he repeated his methodical examination of the graveyard lengthwise. At it's southern edge where the cemetery met it's boundary wall his search bore fruit - he found a grave site with mound of offering in front of it.

Marie Laveau's grave stood as a revered pilgrimage site in of New Orleans, drawing countless gift bearing petitioners who sought the intercession of the legendary voodoo priestess. In front of Dominique stood a modest pediment roofed tomb not much more than six feet tall adorned with large piles of bouquets mingled with strands of Mardi Gras beads. A can of chicory coffee, a bottle Hennessy, a half-smoked blunt, and a box McDonalds happy meal round off the eclectic tributes. The heap of supplicant's thank-offerings advertised the identify of the interred. He turned on the flash on his phone and saw a bronze tablet affixed to the facade of structure, confirming this was indeed the resting place of the voodoo queen. 

On the surface of the tomb, multiple groups of XXX were scrawled in chalk, ink, pencil, and lipstick, a curious sight that caught Dominique's attention.

"What’s up with all the triple X graffiti?" he asked aloud when he caught a faint whiff of papaya in the air.

Jenny emerged from behind one of the adjacent tombs, a mischievous grin playing on her lips. "I thought I was being quiet—trying to sneak up on you."

"You were quiet." Dominique chuckled. "But I picked up the scent of your shampoo."

She walked over to the tomb and leaned against Dominique, who instinctively wrapped his arm around her shoulder. In that moment, what he once perceived as a protective gesture now felt like leaning on a pillar of unwavering support

"People believe that writing the Xs on the tomb while making wishes would make them come true," Jenny explained, gesturing towards the offerings laid out in front of the burial. "And once your request is fulfilled, you come back with a gift of gratitude."

"And what do you wish for?" Dominique inquired, curiously gazing as Jenny retrieved a piece of chalk from her jean pocket and inscribed three Xs on stone surface.

"That you don't have to leave New Orleans." Jenny replied.

"Unlikely." Dominique sighed with resignation. "Once the final test result is tabulated on Monday, I am likely to be dropped from the student roster. The school financial aid would be stopped and have to move back with my parents in Houston."

"Or you could move in with me to save money." Jenny suggested. "Maybe get a job here. My uncle Timmy is always looking for someone from the family to help him managing the fishing boats. Or, aren't you always griping about how your high school buddies making more money on the oil rigs than psychiatrists? Maybe look to them for opportunities."

"I have always wanted to turn my grandma's secret-formula fish sauce into a commercial product line." Dominique added, mulling over his options.

Simultaneously they felt hands on their shoulders. Dominique shuddered while Jenny drove her elbow into the torso behind her. Phil Gautier grunted and doubled over in pain.

“So sorry. It was a reflex. Are you OK?” Jenny apologies profusely.

"No worries, I'm okay. I was asking for it-creeping up on you guys like that." Phil reassured them with a good-natured laugh while slowly straightening.

"So this is the famous Laveau family tomb?" Phil asked, pointing to the three enclosure stone tablets adorning the front facade. "How many members of the family does it accommodate, three?"

“Eighty five.” Jenny responded, and then, noting her companions’ astonishment, she elaborated. 

“Upon the passing of a family member the remains are placed in a casket and temporarily interred in one of the vaults. As you can see this one has three vaults, allowing it to accommodate up to three family members at a time, which might seems plenty except for times of plague when they may need to borrow adjacent empty chambers as temporary repositories."

Paused to ensure she still held the full attention of her audience, Jenny continued. "During the hot days in New Orleans the temperature inside the vault can reach above 300 degree Fahrenheit, which accelerated the biodegradation of the remains. A year and the day after the interrement, the coffin is exhumed, the desiccated bones retrieved, bundled, and dropped into a small cave under the tomb where it will stay permanently alongside the remains of ancestors. It's an efficient tradition for New Orleans with limited burial grounds, circumventing the forbiddance of cremation by the Catholic church, while also ensuring that the relic of the entire family remains together for eternity."

“Speaking of being with your family, where is your sister?” Phil asked Dominique, abruptly changing the focus of his curiosity which was piqued by Lela's absence. "This tomb is right next to her point of entry, I am surprised that she did not find it first.”

“Let me check. Our parents made us install a tracking app since high school so we can always see where others are.” Dominique consulted his cellphone app with puzzlement. “According to this she is nearby. Let me call her.”

He dialed and everyone froze as the sound of phone vibration emanated from Marie Laveau’s tomb. 

Jenny inspected each of the three enclosure tablets on the facade of the tomb and noted that the fasteners in the bottom tablet had rusted away. With a light tugged the marble slab opened, revealing the empty chamber behind it, save for Lela’s cell phone buzzing with a photo of BTS on the screen. 

“Well, it took you guys long enough.” Lela’s voice ranged out from darkness as she emerged. ”Found the grave right away after I jumped the wall. Got bored waiting so I decided to checkout Louis Armstrong’s grave after hiding my phone in the empty vault to prove that I won. Well, now we are all here, let’s hit Cooter Brown’s. Time to celebrate my victory.”

The group proceeded to the bar, where Jenny fetched drinks while Phil attempted to learn the art of shucking oysters from the seafood man.

"I don’t think Armstrong was buried in New Orleans.” Dominique uttered as the sibling waited at a corner table.

“You're right bro. He was interred in Flushing Cemetery in Queens. I was not looking for his tomb. After hiding my cell phone so I can't be tracked, I drove to your school five blocks away, snuck into the organic chemistry department, pulled your scantron, corrected your answers, and scurried back here."

Lela scan the bar to ensure no one was within earshot, leaving Dominique in stunned silence.

"You are thinking how did she find the office and how did she get in. Well, Phil gave me a tour of the school, including the O-Chem department, while you were sweating over your test earlier. Then I used Phil’s key to unlock the office door while you guys were running around in the cemetery.”

“So Jenny was in on this, too, suggesting we leave our keys in your trunk?”

“Yeah. And I suspect even Phil had an inkling of our subversion as he threw in his radio frequency ID card with his keys, allowing me to enter the school building through the side door, bypassing the security cameras.” 

“How did you know the right answers to the test questions?”

“I used Kaysha Sim’s scantron. You told me she ranks number one in your class for two years straight, always getting the perfect score, right?" Lela revealed with mischievous smirk. "I erased all your answers and copied hers onto your card, enough so that you will pass anyway. As a unexpectedly high score would surely arouse suspicion.”

Just then Jenny returned with Dixie Beers and Phil proudly presented a large tray of raw oysters. They toasted, drank, ate, and ordered another round of beers and more oysters. 

After everyone had their fill, Phil invited Lela to a game of darts at the far corner of the bar.

“I reckon we ought to bring a gift for Marie Laveau, a token of our gratitude for her granting our supplication. What should bring?” Dominique whispered in Jenny’s ear.

“How about a bottle of your grandma’s secret-formula fish sauce?”

“Huh. Think the queen of voodoo would like that?”

“I believe she will think it’s the bomb.”