Big Easy Bonanza

was ridiculous. He turned around. The man who’d sneaked up was one of his customers, a man named Billy Ambrose.
    “You startled me.”
    “Sorry.” Billy gave him a winsome grin. “I didn’t know I was that imposing. You okay? Headache or what?”
    Tolliver tried for a smile that he suspected was more like a grimace and waved Billy into one of the stalls. “Fine,” he whispered, knowing Billy couldn’t hear him. He’d left his pills at home. Goddamn! Of all days to forget them. Worrying about Bitty was making him twitchy—even more so than he’d expected; and he’d known it was going to be a very difficult day indeed. He’d called out to her because he’d seen her stumble. He might have known. She’d been doing beautifully earlier, but how much could you expect of one human being? One very weak, unhappy, alcoholic human being who’d drawn hardly a sober breath in twenty years or more? But every now and then she cleaned up her act and was okay for a while.
    No doubt it gave her liver a rest, but it was a long-term solution by no means. For years her family had been trying to get her to join AA, with no success. Bitty was afraid to give up drinking. Life held no pleasures for her now except the sweet haze of alcohol. Without it, she wouldn’t want to live. And so, in a way, it was what was keeping her alive and they should all be glad of it. But it seemed that lately, for the past few weeks, she’d been worse than ever. Or was that his imagination?
    Probably not. She was worried about today probably. He needed to get to her … to help her get through it. He knew she wanted to stay sober, and she was going to need a lot of support.
    But he was useless with this nagging headache, this anxiety. He had to get out of here. He felt tired, dizzy, and spent.
    Staggering himself, though hardly aware of it, Tolliver threaded his way to the street. God, he hated Carnival! He hated the masks and he hated the costumes and he hated the booze and the noise and the forced, desperate gaiety, and the pressure and the crowds and the revolting, no-holds-barred vulgarity of the thing. There was something else he hated this much—or someone. What was it? The hatred felt familiar, but he couldn’t put his finger on it right now.
    What had he thought he was doing, coming outside? The crowds were so thick you couldn’t walk a step. But he had to get through them. He had to get home and get his pills, then there was something else he had to do … something to do with Bitty.
    Yes. Now he remembered. He’d get the car and go home and get the pills and do what he’d planned to do, which was take care of Bitty. As always. He’d been doing it ever since he could remember, and today was an important day.
    He wondered how Henry was. Would he get through the day okay? The thought of Henry—so young and vulnerable (though he thought himself so worldly)—made Tolliver suddenly warm and happy. If Bitty made it through the day okay, then Henry would be okay and maybe Tolliver would too. It was only that thought that was getting him through.
    His head was beginning to clear. It felt better now. He had walked for a long time—very slowly. As a small boy he could remember holding his mother’s hand, but not being able to see her. And that was on St. Charles, where things were tamer. The crowds were thickest here, right on Canal. Still, he didn’t need to go fast. He was doing fine. He walked and walked and walked, it seemed. But the faces seemed familiar, the costumes too. The same feathers, the same sequins—or was every exhibitionist in town wearing a red-feathered codpiece with silver-sequined suspenders? The same slave girl, the same top-hatted magician with the same ratty mechanical rabbit. Good Christ! The same teenage girl on the same balcony. The same crowd hollering, “Show your tits!” She had painted sunbursts on them.
    How long had he been walking? He felt disoriented. Had he gotten his pills? His limbs felt stronger now, as if he’d walked off the twitchiness. His head hadn’t hurt for a long time. Had he done what he’d set out to do? He must get back. He must start to find his way back.
    Bitty would be wondering what had happened to him.
    Henry would be going nearly mad, trying to take care of her, wondering where Tolliver was. He stopped a man in a gorilla suit and asked directions.

4
    Bitty smoothed makeup into the little bags beneath her eyes, then put on some eyeliner and mascara. Her hand was as