You took a deep breath and then exhaled slowly.  I noticed that your eyes became watery.  You paused and turned away to gather yourself. After a few moments, you turned towards me with that intoxicating smile again.  Then you began.  In 1899, we owned a pastry shop not far from here on Canal Street called Bonbons.  We made delicate pastries that everyone loved.  But our most requested treat was your beignets.  They were so light and fluffy people would order them by the dozen.  We ran out every day.  We were doing so well that we thought about opening another shop. That never came to pass though.  Because one balmy New Orleans evening around 6 the local root woman Madame Babet and her son CJ (Charles Jr) came in for beignets.  Madame Babet was a quiet woman that no one in or out of the French quarter crossed.  She was a powerful root woman that many sought counsel from. Especially women who had abusive husbands.  Abusive men would either disappear entirely or become submissive to their wives.  And in that time, a submissive man was unheard of.  This also included Madame Babet’s husband Charles Sr.  Before she became Madame Babet, she was just Babet. An abused woman that everyone felt sorry for. Her husband Charles was an angry, worthless drunk. On a fall night in front of a massive crowd of people at a local fair, Charles said Babet was talking sass to him.  And he would not tolerate it.  He struck her so hard that she fell to the ground with blood rushing from her mouth.  Onlookers were not surprised. Some cringed.  Others gasp.  Everyone walked off unphased. All but one.  Her name was Ms Claudette.  She was always dressed in all black. She was in constant mourning for her husband and daughter who drowned in Lake Pontchartrain a year earlier.  She had long silver hair and spoke with a raspy voice.  She was a strikingly beautiful woman who was always nice to everyone.  It was rumored that once that tragedy befell her she started practicing black magic.  She reached down and helped Babet up.  She told her to come and see her when she got tired of being treated like a rag doll.  She then looked at Charles Sr, winked, and told him she’d see him soon.  He trembled then nervously laughed.  About six months later, Babet was walking home from work as a seamstress and stopped to say hello to a friend.  She let time get away from her.  Before she knew it, it was dark.  She knew Charles Sr would be upset because she had to cook as soon as she got home.  He didn’t work.  He drank all day and cussed half the night.  By the time she started down her street, she heard him cussing loudly.  But she also heard CJ crying.  She took off running.  When she made it to the front door, she heard a loud thud.  She opened the door to find CJ balled up on the floor.  Both of his eyes were swollen from crying.  She could see hand prints on his arms.  This brought about a rage in her that she had never felt.  But she maintained her composure and carefully walked to the kitchen stove where her cast iron skillet lay.  Charles shouted: I “bess” to be eating something in a few minutes woman!  I've been waiting on you all day!  He walked behind her and began to shout something that she couldn’t comprehend.  Nor did she care to.  She turned around with that iron skillet in her hand and knocked him out cold.  She grabbed CJ and ran to Ms Claudette’s house near the swamp.  Ms Claudette was sitting on her steps smoking a pipe.  She invited Babet in with open arms.  No one is sure what transpired that night.  But Babet became Madame Babet.  And Charles Sr transformed into a meek, mild mannered shell of a man.  


You paused briefly before continuing.  Apparently, this Babet character has brought you a great deal of pain, you’re delusional or you have a great imagination.  Either way, I’m intrigued.  I nodded my head for you to continue.  You pulled your chair closer to me.  You seemed to relax a little when you came closer to me.  You dove back into your fairytale about the evening Madame Babet and CJ came into “our” pastry shop.  


CJ came to the counter saying he wanted 4 beignets. 2 for dinner.  And 2 for tomorrow. He was a short plump child with sun kissed skin, freckles and jet black hair. You told CJ there were only 2 left.  And he could come back tomorrow for the other 2.  CJ immediately began to cry and throw a tantrum.  He had to be at least 10.  And definitely too old for tantrums.  Madame Babet asked if we could make more.   I explained to her that it was impossible because the dough needed time to proof.  But I’d be sure to save an extra one for him.  It’d be on the house.  Madame Babet became stern and demanded I find a way to get CJ what he wanted.  She didn’t care if I had to take it from the customer that I had just sold a dozen to.  When the customer looked up to see it was Madame Babet and CJ, he tried to give his beignets to CJ.  CJ knocked the bag out of the customer's hand. The beignets fell on the floor.  All 12 of them.  CJ had a reputation of getting whatever he wanted.  Today would not be the day.  And we would pay the price.  Madam Babet demanded more beignets.  I tried explaining the process once more.  She insisted that I was being disrespectful to her.  And she will never be disrespected by a man again.  Gabriel said I tried to calm Madame Babet.  Then politely asked her to leave our store.  CJ ran behind the counter screaming for more beignets.  He began to kick you.  I pushed him away from you.  He stumbled, fell back and hit his head on the corner of the counter.  He was ok.  But his head was bleeding profusely.  Madame Babet she seemed to black out with anger.  The weather turned from a beautiful sunset to thunder and lightning with black skies.  Our last customer bolted out the door. The air seemed to be sucked out of the room. Madame Babet began to chant in creole.  Then told us to enjoy our last night together because tomorrow morning we’d be strangers.  Madame Babet, you can’t be serious.  This was an accident. And fresh beignets will be ready tomorrow by 6 a.m.  Madame Babet said it no longer mattered and that was our price to pay for hurting CJ.  She explained that as long as her bloodline survived we were damned to walk the earth as immortal strangers.  I would know you.  But you would never recognize me again. We would long for a love that could only be satisfied by one another.  Happiness will be sitting right in front of us and we’d never enjoy it.  She grabbed CJ’s hand and left.  We closed the shop in silence and went home.  I barely slept that night.  As the sun began to rise, I touched your shoulder to wake you. As usual, you were slow to rise.  You’ve never been a morning person.  You turned to look at me and screamed. 


You screamed so loudly our neighbor Bentley and his wife Carol ran to see what was going on.  By that time I was outside in total disbelief.  Carol went inside to check on you.  While Bentley stayed with me.  You explained to Carol that a  strange man was in your bed.  She tried explaining to you that I was your husband.  And everyone in town has always been envious of our beautiful love story.  You walked outside and pointed to me asking if I was your husband.  Both Bentley and Carol told you yes.  You said that you’ve never seen me before.  I fell to my knees, defeated.  Carol took you inside of her house to comfort you.  I explained what happened with Madame Babet to Bentley.  He looked in disbelief and advised me to go and beg forgiveness from Madame Babet.  At the time, I refused.  I went into our home to get a few things and disappeared.  I moved right outside of New Orleans in a small town called Ponchatoula.  Time seemed to stand still without you.  I was miserable.  After a month, I came back to New Orleans to find that Madame Babet mysteriously disappeared.  She left CJ behind to be cared for by Ms. Claudette.  She would never be found.  I went back to Ponchatoula with a heavy heart.  But before I went back, I managed to catch a glimpse of you at Bonbons.  You were as beautiful as ever.  I would eventually become a successful fisherman. But when people around me noticed I never aged, I had to move.  I’ve lived all over the United States.  I even lived in Mexico for a few years.  I’ve been in several relationships.  Nothing or no one ever brought me any happiness.  That is until a breaking news flashed across my tv about a prominent Louisiana businessman that died in a plane crash a few days ago.  Avery Dubois was the sole heir to Dubois technologies and the last descendant of Madame Babet.  I dropped everything to come to you.  See I’ve kept tabs on you over these last 126 years.  I’ve seen you struggle as I did finding your place in this lonely world.  You’ve never understood  why your beauty is timeless and craving a love that can never have, right?  


By now, I’m in tears.  How could he know all of this?  I have been endlessly traveling the world searching for answers to these very questions.  I’ve never been able to confide in anyone for fear of what would happen to me.  Is this really true?  And if so, why don’t I recognize him?  I saw the same news alert a few days ago as well.  I was living in New York.  But my heart was drawn back to Louisiana.  I didn’t know why.  So I decided to come back to New Orleans for a visit.  Could Gabriel be telling the truth? The urge to touch him became unbearable.  I stood up.  He immediately did the same.  And in one embrace, I was flooded with the memories of our story.  It was an overwhelming but wonderful feeling. For the first time since you walked in, I truly saw you.  My Gabriel.  The love of my life.  I am now whole again.  I don’t know what the future holds for us, but even Madame Babet couldn’t break our enchanted love.