***This story is dedicated to my real 'Francis'.
My name is Dawn. I was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana to a very strict, religious, Catholic family. My father (who was actually southern Baptist but brought us to mass anyway) was physically and emotionally abusive to me and my older brother after our mother died when I was six. We dealt with it in our own ways (private, quiet rebellion).
I grew up in poor to lower middle-class, all black neighborhoods and went to all or mostly black schools. I am the youngest of my mother's eight children.
I went to a very small black, Catholic school and at seven, became a student lector at the school's weekly masses. I would spend much of my free time with the nuns in their convent and just hang out with them and ask them questions about their lives.
By the time that I reached the age of Confirmation (13), I was committed to become a Sister of the Holy Family. I came to find out that year that the reason why I was taken under the sisters' wings is because my mother had requested it and had wanted me to become a nun since I was 5!
We had always had white priests at the church parishes that I attended. They were the only white people that I actually knew (besides my pediatrician). I grew to love and revere the priests who led our parishes and found them to be fun and complete individuals. I don't think that I ever saw them as priests, totally devoted to the Church. I saw them as very wise friends who were concerned with helping people and making people's lives more spiritual and meaningful.
By the time that I reached 17, I was too far gone into theater and music to care about becoming a nun anymore. I was already into white boys because the black boys just teased me, insulted me and called me 'white girl' because I spoke 'proper', whatever that means!
I still attended mass and confession weekly and was part of my new parish's Catholic Youth Organization. This new head priest welcomed my input a lot and even trusted me enough to spend time at the rectory with some other kids. I was actually a church youth leader and participating in Sunday masses for the parish.
You would think that my family would be proud of me but they considered it part of my 'weirdness'. I was teased by being 'the good girl' or the wannabe nun. There was no way for me to please these people. I felt very alone even though I had family all around me.
Then one Sunday, things changed. That was when I met Francis. One of the most beautiful men that I have met, inwardly and outwardly. He was an angel.
I first met him on the alter preparing for services. I was going to prepare my reader's seat on the alter and tease the altar boys when I saw him. I only saw his back first, as he was working the other side. When he saw me at my seat, he greeted me with a sweet, warm smile. He had such a light in him!
I knew that he was Italian immediately because of the great big Roman nose and slightly olive skin. He wasn't very tall at 5' 7". I could also tell that he worked out from his muscular arms. I was to find out later that he was 26, from Boston, a Scorpio and close to ordination. He would be with the parish until next June.
He came over to shake my hand and I saw his eyes- sapphire blue, large and warm. They were amazing! "My name is Francis Contadino. You can just call me Francis or Frankie, if you'd like." He introduced himself, " You must be Dawn. I have heard so many good things about you from Father Richards and the deacons."
I smiled big and returned his greeting, "Hi! Yeah, I'm Dawn Landrieu. It's good to see you. I hope that you can add some life into these services here."
He nodded his head slowly and said, "I'll see what I can do about that...yeah." Then he flashed that super smile again and I thought that I would just melt right there!
I had just turned 18 at the time. Stood 5'2 1/2", was 24 pounds overweight but it was distributed well, I had a small waist and as always put nicely together by my stepmother. I usually wore a uniform because of school but that kilt never went above my knees- even when I sat (Three fingers below the knees, please)!
I wore square, grey, wire frames and had straight black hair that hang past my shoulders. I removed the glasses as often as I could, especially around young men. Especially when I would see Francis the future priest.
I was very much a lady and was raised to be a proper New Orleans Creole girl (even with my caramel skin and not 'good' hair that I got from my 'Darkie' father. My mother was deep, French Creole and my stepmother, Spanish Creole, so I really had no choice in the matter). I was always a pretty girl but had self-esteem issues (No wonder). I hated my looks. I was a much more shy person then. Some people in my family reminded me constantly about how not-so-pretty they thought I was. I knew they were wrong but it hurt all the same.
Anyway, that was our first meeting. After that Sunday, Francis and I became fast friends. We would spend a lot of time on projects and I would bring baked goodies to the rectory. We would also go in a group to other churches, shopping, school supply buying, etc. We would have very deep and long discussions about religion, politics and food (with others around, of course). We were becoming good friends.
I knew that something else was there, too. It wasn't blatant but I just knew. Call it woman's intuition or what have you. I could tell by his generous compliments on my clothes, grades, perfume, etc. I knew by the way he avoided touching me at all costs besides shaking my hand and that was always a quick exercise, with a finger tracing my palm. I could also tell by the way he would defend me when I was being teased by the boys. He seemed to take it more personally than I did.
How I really could tell was by his excitement when he heard my steps coming to the rectory door. He would answer like a lonely pup waiting for his master. I never really had to ring the bell if he was there. If I made it to the door and had to ring, I knew that he wasn't home or at least not downstairs.
Now, I enjoyed "The Thornbirds", but I didn't know if I was ready to go through what Maggie went through to get her man, so I just tried very hard to ignore what was obviously happening between us.
That March, seven months after we'd met, Francis planned a nice 'Accepted into you first choice of college party' for me. He had invited my parish friends, some school friends of mine and my favorite cousins. We had it in the kitchen and outdoors since spring is always in New Orleans early. Father Richards said that it was a reward for all that I did for the parish...and besides we were supposed to have a meeting there anyway!
I also knew that he understood that my father was not happy to see me going out of state for school. He did not plan on even giving me the bus fare to go off to college! That's why Francis really wanted to do the party.
He'd outdone himself and seemed to take pride in watching me have a good time and be queen for a day. He had written me some innocent poems disguised as a card that I read later and saved. It was one of the best parties that I've ever had.
