Champagne Nights || Shawmila [Completed]

four

"I need to find myself a wife." Those were the words that escaped Shawn's mouth on a Sunday afternoon.

He had let himself be convinced by Camila to be driven out of town for a short escape from the explosive chaos of New Orleans. He admitted to never venturing beyond the Marigny district since he had arrived, and Camila found it outrageous. So she forced him to accompany her through the most iconic neighborhoods until they reached the outskirts of the swamp. Camila didn't go there very often—the mosquitoes could be too annoying, and the brackish smell of still water twisted her insides—and yet she seemed to handle it well.

They boarded a small motorboat. Camila started it effortlessly, ignoring Shawn's perplexed and inquisitive gaze. The roar of the old engine shattered the tranquility, and the pair quickly embarked, navigating one of the many passable channels that had formed in the swamp. Shawn observed everything in silence. He fixed his gaze on Camila's determined and experienced look as she maneuvered through the roots of the cypresses emerging from the water. He admired the oaks and canebrakes that bordered the glimpses of vegetation, the water lilies or the bayou irises that stained the green uniformity with splashes of intense color. Dragonflies brushed the water's surface with their swift dance, while flies and mosquitoes buzzed lazily; perched herons took flight as they passed, losing feathers that floated until they dispersed into the mud.

"Whose boat is this?" Shawn finally asked.

"Mine," Camila simply replied without elaborating. They sailed for about half an hour until the woman docked the boat at an old rusty mooring. They were in the middle of nowhere, in a small shack surrounded by greenery and humidity. Above them, the sky was blue. She gestured for him to follow as they climbed the dusty pathway. The small porch creaked under their feet, and Camila easily opened the door. Apparently, the owner didn't worry about intruders.

"We shouldn't be here, Camila," Shawn hurried to clarify. His voice was strained with concern.

The woman chuckled, as if that transgression didn't worry her in the slightest, as if Shawn's reaction was naïve and childish. "Don't worry, no one will kick us out of here." They entered the kitchen, and Camila lit the small stove. She absentmindedly grabbed the kettle and filled it, placing it on the glowing stove. Shawn was surprised to see running water in that shack. Everything seemed utterly absurd to him, yet faced with Camila's indifference, he couldn't utter a word.

The woman poured the boiling water into a teapot containing dried herbs, let it infuse for a few minutes, and then prepared two cups full of that tea. Shawn watched in astonishment. "This isn't the first time you've done this, is it?" he asked.

"What, preparing some tea? No I actually make it quite often," she replied with a chuckle. She sat in front of him, keeping her gaze fixed on the table. "This is the house I grew up in," she finally admitted.

Shawn should have expected it, but for some reason, the idea that Camila could live in a place like that seemed far more absurd than what he had believed up until that moment. The contrast with the luxurious house she owned in the city was shocking. The fine fabrics and refined details were only a distant memory compared to the rough planks of the floor and the moth-eaten furniture present inside the old shack.

"I lived here for sixteen years until I decided to leave. It was George who gave me the opportunity to do so. He would often come around here to fish and he noticed a girl singing alone among the reeds. After a few weeks, he approached me and asked me out. So I accepted, and soon enough, I convinced myself to leave my family and follow him to New Orleans."

"Have you ever regretted it?" he asked her.

She shook her head. "No, George has always treated me well, as if I were made of glass." Inadvertently, Shawn scoffed. "I know you don't believe it, but it's true. He has always been kind to me, giving me everything I could desire without asking any questions," she reiterated.