Butterflies in Heat (62 page)

"I can't help you," he said, looking as if he felt strong, handsome, masculine, immune from her plight. "Put down that stupid gun and let me go."

She closed her finger around the trigger. "I'll kill you. Then
I'll
kill myself!"

"You really mean it, don't you?" His eyes widened.

"Of course, I mean it." She made a gesture to the door, silently defying that it would ever be opened without her permission. "I'm going to hang on to you; even if I have to kill you to do it." Her voice was getting even more high-pitched, her gestures airier. "I've always lost everything I've ever wanted." She sobbed. "Lola is tired of losing!"

"Come on ... " He raised his hand toward her, then backed away.

"Take off your clothes," she commanded. "Get in that bubble bath." She lowered her voice.
"I'll
be
in to rub your back." She glared at him, searching for some show of defiance. He was giving in, submitting, she could tell. As an
afterthought, she added, "and anything else I want to rub any time of the day or night I want to rub it. You're mine!"

He sighed in defeat. Not saying a word, he was heading back to the bathroom. He got out of his clothes slowly and into the water; he let the bubbles float over his head.

In front of the bathroom mirror, Lola adjusted her retrieved wig. Then she generously applied flaming red lipstick as a prelude to joining him in the bath.

Intimidating Ned had been easy, almost too easy. She couldn't quite believe it.

Getting Numie into her stable would be more difficult. But still an imminent prospect.

"The water's got cold,· he yelled.

"Don't worry," she said over her shoulder. "Your mother's going to make it scalding!"

Leonora in anger answered the sound of the buzzer. "Anne, you know I don't like to be disturbed when I'm meditating. What is it?"

"It's Sunshine," she said.

"Sunshine?" Leonora asked incredulously .. "You know I loathe it."

"No," Anne said, exasperated. "Sunshine is the commodore's cousin. He's demanding to see you.·

"Really!" An idea flashed through Leonora's mind. Lola had taken care of Sister Amelia. But one relative was just as good as another when your aim was breaking a will.

"Show the young man up,' Leonora commanded.

Numie had a hard time falling asleep that night. Tossing and turning, he wrestled the bedcovers in the guest cottage at Sacre-Coeur. In the dark, he was reaching back in space. Where had everything gone wrong? At what point in life had he taken that bad a turnoff? The same question, endlessly repeated.

Images clogged his brain, giving way to memories, both distant and close--all blending into one melting pot that churned inside his head. Tears filled his eyes, and at times he seemed on the verge of some new insight. But then it was gone. Everything became elusive again, including the solution for his escape.

If
only an answer to his letter would come. Maybe it had gotten lost! Getting out of bed quickly, he flicked on the lamp. Its glare gave him a headache. At the desk, he sat down and began to write once more a letter that remained his only hope for escaping Tortuga.

Shortly before dawn, he left Sacre-Coeur. As he walked down the deserted sidewalk, the whole island looked as
if
it was washed with purple paint.

The sun was up now, casting light on the rows of little shanties that bordered the graveyard.

Out early, the old shoeshine man was here, rocking on his front porch-his smile revealing decaying, yellow-green teeth. "Morning, young man."

"Morning, old timer. You get up early."

"Don't want to miss no business."

"I said next time I was wearing shoes, I'd be right over," Numie said, walking up the rickety steps. "Here I am."

Shining his shoes, the old man sang a loose-lipped tune, a kind of Dixieland. Between shines he paused to take a swig from a half pint of liquor tucked away under his ornate stand. Stretching his back, he scratched the sweaty armpits of a yellowing, pin-striped shirt. Then he snapped his dirty rag and went to work. Eyes squinting, he held the shoes up to his face, testing the gleam. "Right fine shine I gave you."

"Best I ever had," Numie replied, putting a dollar bill in the withered, outstretched hand.

In the now clear light of morning, Numie saw that the polish was applied too thickly, that
it
was the wrong color, and that some of the areas had been completely missed. "See you around," he called back at the shanty.

Beyond the graveyard, he was pleased about one thing: he'd carried out his vague commitment to return to that old man to get the shine. A small incident, perhaps, but it was important to him.

He planned to return again and again to have his shoes shined by that old man-just as long as he continued to live in Tortuga and the old man continued to live.

Back at the guest cottage, he dozed for hours. The heat made him toss and tum in sweaty sheets. He woke late in the afternoon.

Opening his eyes fully, he was startled by a tapping on his door. He must be dreaming. But, no, the tapping was growing louder. Bolting up, he reached for his robe and rushed to the door. "Anne," he said, startled. "Come on in." He was really glad to see her, though slightly alarmed at the prospect of bad news. "Does Leonora want me to drive her somewhere?"

"No, she's resting now after dictating her memoirs to me for hours." She glanced quickly at the disheveled room, then at his sleepy face. "I'm beat! Anything to drink out here?"

At the bar he checked a small refrigerator. "No beer," he said, smiling. Her presence warmed him.

She paused for a moment, hesitating. "Then Scotch," she replied.

"Sorry I don't have any cubes," he said, handing her a half-filled glass. Her words, the tone of her voice, was suddenly having a disturbing effect on him.

She downed some of
it.
"Why don't we go for a drive?" she asked. A little sigh came from her. "I'd like to get away."

"Where to?" he asked. He was sorry his question sounded a little cold. It wasn't meant that way. He had a hard time expressing feeling.

In his presence, she looked helpless. Hand at her throat, she seemed to be in some sort of pain. "Any place away from here."

On the way to nowhere in particular, he drove the Lincoln past a saloon with swinging, green-shuttered doors, a dingy grocery store, then a Navy shop, and finally a red-brick bank building.

"What am I going to do?" he asked, not expecting an answer.

Her look was strange. "Correction," she said. "What are we going to do?"

Numie's eyes were wide and glazed. Did she mean that? Afraid to ask, he didn't say anything, just kept his eyes glued on the road.

"We're in the same boat," she said after a long pause.

He could almost sense her nerves tightening. His certainly were.

"Each of us wanting to get out of this hole," she said, "but not knowing how to go about it."

Outside, sallow-faced young men hung out on street corners wearing their masks. He mentally transferred his own face onto that of those mannikins, remembering too well how he used to stand around waiting for some miserable excuse of life to come to him. Turning the corner, he wanted to escape the tawdry town, with its decaying bars, its yellow-streaked windows, its termite-eaten lumber. "I've written a letter," he said impetuously. "But haven't got an answer yet."

Anne rolled down the window, letting in the smell of the late afternoon. Soon all the bars were gone, giving way to birds of paradise growing alongside the road.

He turned from their sight. Their long-pointed tongues seemed to be sticking out at him, mocking him. God, he was paranoid today.

"Hope it comes soon," she said, shifting in her seat.

He was heading for the ocean, to the childhood haunt and ghostly memories of Leonora. The land that spelled such defeat and despair for her gave him a curious kind of solace. It was the doorway that could bring change to Tortuga. If Ruthie Elvina, Lola, and Leonora could be tempted to sell, high-risers would go up on its shore, signaling the end of the long and sleepy isolation of the island town. He wouldn't be around to see it, but he sensed its coming.

"My own hope of getting a job in New York is getting pretty slim," Anne said in a warm, confidential tone.

Suddenly, the thought of Erzulie and his own impotence came racing through his mind. Fear struck him, forcing him to turn from the ocean and head in another direction to the lonely pier at the end of the street. As he neared it, he was relieved. No sign of life anywhere.

"This place is creepy," she said, crossing the rotten boards with him.

At the edge, with the water right at their feet, he pointed to some distant boats on the horizon. "Some day, I'd like to get on one of those boats and go away. Way out there." A sea gull dropped a dead fish nearby, then scooped down to reclaim it. "To visit all the islands south of here." In a near whisper, he added, "To dock in all the strange ports."

Her voice had a sudden sharpness. "Looking for what?" she asked, seemingly impatient with childish fantasies.

"I don't know," he said defensively. He felt like a little boy in her presence. "What were you looking for when you came to this port in the first place?"

"People never look for anything but themselves," she said, turning her face from the water. "That's what I think." In total contrast to his restlessness, she seemed anchored to the spot, like granite statuary. "They may tell you they're seeking money or peace or fame or love, but they're not." Her voice softened. "That's all part of finding out who you are."

A rustling in the garbage pails behind him caused him to jerk around, startled. But it was only some alley cats. One looked like Castor's calico reincarnate. How he wished it were! "Do you really want to find out about yourself?" he asked her.

"Probably not," she said. "I'd be terrified for sure." Moving closer, she held tightly to his arm. "I didn't quite tell you all. The job in New York." She faced him squarely. "I was turned down."

Dark clouds, like a late summer rainstorm, seemed on the horizon. Remembering the storm and the panic of Leonora, he didn't respond at first. Then he asked, "What will you do?"

The first drops of rain began to fall. Still she stood there motionless. "Stay on here unless I get a better offer." A streak of lightning tore across the sky. "I have to eat." She smiled. "An old custom my daddy taught me back in the Bronx."

Numie felt tension building and he thought an unbearable explosion was about to go off inside him. He didn't care whether he got soaked or not. After that other storm, it wouldn't bother him. "Then you're not leaving after all?"

The rain was pouring down now, coating the furry boards of the old pier. Even the pelicans were gone, and the cats were off under a warehouse seeking shelter.

"I'm going to leave," she answered, rain hitting her in the face, "but not as soon as I'd like." She turned to the sea for a long moment, arching her neck. "When you go, guess you'll go alone?"

Under her thin cotton blouse, her breasts were clearly outlined. "I guess," he said, taking his eyes off her long enough to glance at the waves washing up against the pilings. "Who would go with me?" he asked the water, not daring to face her.