Butterflies in Heat

by Darwin Porter

  "Teddy, don't you think you've had enough?" Ruthie Elvina asked. Her lips trembled with her voice. "I swear you could outdrink my captain if he was alive today."

  He brushed aside her suggestion with the wave of his hand. T eddy was like an exotic bird of prey. His pear-shaped body and long, thin neck were too small to support his enormous head with its hawklike beak. His eyes were bloodshot. His skin, beet-colored. Another martini in hand, he stumbled to his chair, spilling some of the drink on his Madras jacket. As he leaned back, an Ankh—dangling on the end of a heavy gold chain—clanked against his butter-yellow Oxford shirt, which was open and revealed a mass of salt-and-pepper hair. On a stool, he carefully arranged his bare feet, encased in white crinkled Italian loafers.

  "Teddy's in real estate," Ruthie Elvina said, almost apologetically. She seemed to be trying to catch Numie's eye.

  He was determined to avoid even that personal a contact with her. "That's fine," he said. "I've seen your name on signs around the island." He just was talking to be talking. "Everything for rent here seems to be at least seventy years old."

  Ruthie Elvina bristled at that remark.

  "Dammit," Numie thought. Now he'd gone and insulted her. Why didn't he keep his mouth shut?

  "You're right," Teddy said, "but I've got big plans with developers." He settled back in his chair, searching for the right shade angle from the tree branch overhead. "This time next year, I'll be hiring you as my chauffeur to drive me around in limousines." He opened his eyes wide and stared at both Numie and Ruthie Elvina, as if defying them to challenge his next remark. "I'm going to be a millionaire!"

  This struck a responsive chord in Numie. Regardless of your position in life, he realized we all carry the same dream of striking it rich. "What's your secret?" he asked.

  "I'm working on this project for a high-rise right on the beach," Teddy said. "On land Leonora and the late commodore own." The gardener was burning some trash in the back, and its yellow haze of smoke drifted their way. Teddy stopped momentarily, thinking it was a fire in the house. "With beautiful high-rise apartments, we'll get the money crowd. They'll arrive on yachts." He stared at Numie, as if debating whether to make the next point. "Right now we get the cheap campers." He grandly waved a hand in the air, slightly upsetting some of his martini. "I'm trying to give this town a little style."

  Anger flashed across Ruthie Elvina's face. "It's got style," she said testily. "Plenty of it."

  From the rigid arch of her back, Numie could tell that Ruthie Elvina considered herself the social arbiter of taste and style in Tortuga. She clearly resented this interference from Teddy.

  "As for me,' Ruthie Elvina said, "I'm trying to uphold tradition—iust like my captain wanted me to. Preserve the best of the past." Going out of her way to tum her back to Teddy, she deliberately addressed her next statement to Numie, although it was clearly said for the drunken realtor's benefit. "I'm starting a movement to restore some of the historical landmarks on the island. I don't think people appreciate the important espionage work that went on here in the Civil War when the Yankees captured the island." This was said like a pat little speech she'd delivered many times in front of civic groups. She turned around, squarely facing Teddy. "High risers could ruin our look."

  "Look, baby," Teddy said, his voice increasingly bitter, "you'll vote for us." He settled back, like a man assured of easy victory. "Only objection you have to high rise is nobody has met your outrageous price yet."

  Ruthie Elvina sucked in the air, her breasts jutting out all the more. She had all the self-righteousness of a Crusader storming the infidel. Then some of the air escaped her, and it was clear she'd decided that now wasn't the time for battle.

  "You're holding out on that beach footage for all you can take us for," Teddy said, almost intuitively knowing he could get away with this attack. "The land actually belonged to my cousin, before he was sent off to the asylum by your brother, that judge:

  Ruthie Elvina was fanning herself, as if to make her immune from all the hot air swirling around the patio.

  Teddy was impatient; he wasn't getting a response from her. Even though his brain was swimming with liquor, he seemed to know the way to reach her. He leaned forward, blowing some of his alcoholic breath in her face. "Before your dear, departed captain swindled my family out of it."

  He'd reached his mark. Ruthie Elvina heaved her fleshy body from her chair, towering over him. "That's a libelous story you've spread too many times, Theodore. " Her fleshy arms were shaking. "But up till now you've always had enough manners not to spread it right in front of me." She gazed straight upward into the sky, as if she could invoke some heavenly wrath to rain down on her enemy. "I could have you up on charges," she sputtered, "but everybody on this island knows you're the town drunk—and aren't responsible for your tongue."

  Just as Teddy had known her vulnerable spot, it was obvious she'd hit his. He stared back at her uncomprehendingly for a moment. A lock of hair dangled over his forehead, and he looked momentarily deranged. "You will live to regret the day you made that accusation," he said softly but ominously.

  Ruthie Elvina turned around, slowly sipping her tall drink. "Teddy hallucinates," she said to Numie, wiping the sweat from her thick upper lip. "Alcohol's bad for the brain." She looked back in disdain. "Pay no attention to him."

  The argument ended as Leonora appeared. She stood in the shadow of the doorway, her face chalk white, her large eyes heavily coated with mascara. Hanging from her slender frame was a robe of coral and jade embroidery on black satin. It was an old Chinese theatrical costume. Gently adjusting the coral comb in her hair, she gracefully crossed the bricks on her coral satin slippers, heading for her guests. "Forgive me for being so late. I'm incorrigible. No, don't deny it." Her hand darted through the air in an undefined gesture. "I'm simply incorrigible. Reminds me of the time I inadvertently kept Queen Mary waiting for an hour." In the hot glare, she paused. A sharp pain shot through her side. That was such an obvious lie. Why did she tell it? It just slipped out, that's why. Since she'd last seen Ruthie Elvina, her own history was spectacular enough. Yet she could never resist putting gilt on the lily. But why Queen Mary? Why not someone more believable? Already she could see the eyes of Ruthie Elvina boring into her.

  "As I live and breathe, you look fantastic," Ruthie Elvina said, hoisting her fleshy body across the patio. "You haven't changed a bit in fifty years."

  "Neither have you," Leonora lied. My God, she thought. Even though they were the same age, Ruthie Elvina was a prehistoric relic on her last legs. Gently Leonora brushed her lips against Ruthie Elvina's hot, fleshy cheek, too heavily painted with rouge. The woman's cheap perfume offended Leonora's more sensitive nostrils. Leonora stared into the fallen face. Now her nervousness was ebbing. She was beginning to relish this moment, the coming together after all these years with her old high school rival. The beauty queen, Ruthie Elvina Saunders, versus the ugly duckling, Priscilla Osterhoudt. Now the roles were reversed. Ruthie Elvina was still Ruthie Elvina, the widow of the late Captain Bray, but Priscilla Osterhoudt had gone from Mrs. Norton Huttnar to Leonora de la Mer.

  "This is Teddy Albury," Ruthie Elvina said. For some reason, she seemed to be sweating more heavily than ever.

  "Theodore," he corrected, his voice slurred. He tried to rise from the chair, but fell back.

  "Don't get up," Leonora added quickly. Then she looked at Numie. His face was blank. Was he bored? She was certain of it. Did all of them look like patients in a geriatrics ward to Numie?

  Numie avoided Leonora's eyes. Now that Ralph had kicked him out, he was uncertain of his position at Sacre-Coeur. He must keep from making Leonora angry, though the task seemed impossible. "May I get you a drink?" he asked.

  "No, darling, a smoke," Leonora said. Her dreams had been so unrefreshing the night before, and her day so horrid, that she was floundering right in front of everybody. What a day to encounter Ruthie Elvina Bray after half a century.

  "What color?" N
umie asked, fearing Leonora was itching for a fight and would use any excuse to attack him.

  She glanced at her garden and the flowers growing there. "I feel in a rose mood today."

  Into her wooden box and out with a marijuana cigarette, Numie crossed the patio and handed it to Leonora, then lit it for her.

  She sucked in the smoke and sat up stiffly in her favorite peacock chair.

  "What lovely cigarette paper you have," Ruthie Elvina said, "and what a distinct aroma. I pride myself on knowing a thing or two about tobacco—my captain taught me—but I've never smelled that particular brand before."

  "It's Turkish," Leonora said.

  "Oh!" Ruthie Elvina said. "Well, I love the color anyway." She sighed heavily, sitting down. "Rose, like the roses in this pretty garden." At the mention of roses, a frown crossed her face. "Roses remind me of my sister, Minnie."

  "I remember her well," Leonora said. Her voice had a slow, nasal rendering. She was trying to disguise it, but her hatred of Ruthie Elvina was only exceeded by her equally loathsome sister, Minnie.

  Ruthie Elvina paused with a deliberate awkwardness, as if trying to fathom what Leonora meant by her last remark. "Minnie was the rose of the family," she said.

  Leonora coughed on the smoke. On a day like today she was not prepared to listen to a story glorifying Minnie.

  "You shouldn't smoke so much," Ruthie Elvina said pressing on with her story. "My daddy called me in one day and sat me down right beside him." Her eyes tried to attract Leonora's, but they were lost roaming the garden. "My daddy told me he wasn't going to waste his time giving Minnie advice."

  "Why was that, dear?" Leonora asked, being deliberately provocative. "I would imagine any young girl would be in dire need of advice from her father."

  Ruthie Elvina stopped in the middle of her story. Her face reflected her puzzlement. She leaned forward in her chair and continued, "Seeing that Minnie was such a beautiful rose, and roses have a way of getting plucked—even those a bit faded." Her voice drifted off.

  Realizing the story was at Ruthie Elvina's expense, Leonora was suddenly eager for more details.

  "My daddy warned me," Ruthie Elvina said, "that I'd better pay attention to my books. And pick up all the feminine tricks I could on the side, 'cause I was just a great big waxy magnolia." She made petals out of her fingers, outlining the frame of her face. "And great big waxy magnolias need all the help they can get in this world."

  Leonora laughed with relish, until she realized her voice was too harsh. "I can hardly believe that story," Leonora said, now savoring every moment of it. "You know yourself you were voted the most popular girl in school and were the queen of the prom."

  "Popular, yes," Ruthie Elvina replied, "but I never thought I was much of a beauty."

  "You were," Leonora said, "especially in that bathing suit you wore." She was sucking in the smoke rapidly. Having dreaded Ruthie Elvina's appearance today, she was now enjoying it—the most fun she'd had all summer. "First beauty contest ever held in Tortuga. All the boys said you had the prettiest legs in town."

  She stared at Ruthie Elvina's varicose legs, encased in support stockings. Her white molded shoes were planted solidly on brick. Her arches seemed to have fallen. The huge bulky mass of her legs gave no clue whatsoever that they were ever shapely.

  Ruthie Elvina shifted uncomfortably in her chair, tucking her flowery dress over her chubby kneecaps. "No one at school knew back then that you'd go to New York and become so famous."

  "If I recall correctly, no one at school ever gave me much credit for anything," Leonora said. No sooner were the words out than she regretted them. That remark revealed the sting of rejection was still smarting. She recalled that the chief rejecter was Ruthie Elvina herself.

  '"I'm sorry you feel that way," Ruthie Elvina said. "Everyone thought you were very smart—perhaps a little bit standoffish."

  "Let's forget about these school girl memories," Teddy said, "and get down to the business at hand. Got to get home pretty soon. Time for my siesta."

  "Yes," Leonora said, sitting up rigidly, "just why are you people here?" She dreaded their explanations.

  Ruthie Elvina giggled nervously. Then with a flutter of her hands, she said, "We're planning an old island homecoming. All the important people born on this island are returning for an old island days tour."

  Then she shifted in her chair, as if trying to conceal some irregularities in her own internal plumbing. "Naturally we couldn't conceive of a tour without including Sacre-Coeur."

  Leonora was all ears!

  "It's the grandest house on the island," Ruthie Elvina said. Just as a smile was starting to form at Leonora's lips, Ruthie Elvina delivered her punch line, "Except mine, of course."

  Leonora's face, lit by a diffused radiance of the sun through a shade tree, turned pale as death. Ruthie Elvina was baiting her with that remark, and she was having a hard time not snapping at it. Sacre-Coeur, as everybody knew, was far more dazzling than Ruthie Elvina's broken-down, old clapboard, fading, sea-green relic would ever be. The fake portraits she hung on the wall, pretending they were ancestors! The reproductions passed off as heirloom antiques. "I don't allow strangers into Sacre-Coeur. My privacy must be protected."

  "Just this one time," Ruthie Elvina countered, "I didn't think you'd mind. After all, you're our most famous homegrown daughter. Besides, I've already had the programs printed, and you're listed as part of the tour. You didn't return my phone calls, but I just knew you wouldn't want to be excluded."

  A long silence. The hot sun was bad for Leonora. As a rule, she never appeared in it. Even the shadow in the patio wasn't sufficient to conceal her anger. At first, her voice faltered, then she regained her composure. ·"Are you sitting here telling me that people will be arriving at my house—whether I invited them or not? And you took it upon yourself to open Sacre-Coeur to the public, putting me on exhibit?"

  "I know I should be tarred and feathered," Ruthie Elvina said, "but Sacre-Coeur's so important to the success of the tour. I feel just awful, but I know you'll cooperate:

  In a voice cold as the winter wind, Leonora asked, "What did you ever do for me?"

  Ruthie Elvina seesawed with uncertainty in her chair, not completely aware of the fury she'd provoked in Leonora. "I was your best friend in school:

  "You were my worst enemy!" Leonora got up, throwing her cigarette onto the bricks. "I hated you then, and I hate you now: She'd always wanted to get even with Ruthie Elvina. If she could sabotage the old island tour, that would be striking back in some small way. Whatever she'd wanted in Tortuga—a prize, an invitation, a friend, whatever—Ruthie Elvina was always there first, grabbing it up.

  "Surely you're mistaken," Ruthie Elvina said. "I've always admired you greatly."

  "Get out!" Leonora screeched. "Both of you. Get out!"

  I've got important business here," Teddy protested.

  Ruthie Elvina heaved herself up from the chair. "But the programs are already printed."

  "Print them again," Leonora said. Her hands were quivering, her facade of coolness shattered. Ruthie Elvina had done it again—shown her up as vulnerable.

  Ruthie Elvina reached into her purse. "Here's an invitation, " she said, handing it to Leonora.

  At first Leonora stood motionless, then she reached out and gingerly accepted the envelope.

  "You're invited to a party tonight aboard the Saskatchewan, " Ruthie Elvina said. "I remember when we were just young girls, and I didn't invite you to my sixteenth birthday party. I knew you wanted to come, and I was wrong to hurt you like that." She stood for a moment in grave silence, then she took a hesitant step toward Leonora.

  Instinctively Leonora backed away. The more she heard Ruthie Elvina talk, the weaker she felt. For her, going back into the past with Ruthie Elvina was the same as taking her out in mid-ocean and abandoning her. In spite of her name, the lioness of the sea didn't swim.

  "My captain served aboard the Saskatchewan, " Ruthie Elvina said, "
and I'm sort of the unofficial hostess tonight." A quivering hand reached toward Leonora's.

  Leonora concealed her hands within her robe, leaving Ruthie Elvina's hand dangling in the air.

  "Please," Ruthie Elvina said, "let's forget the past. Accept the invitation. I know it's too late, and we can't make up for what's gone before. I did do things to hurt you. But life has made me pay." A sharp edge came over her voice. "Look at you now—and then look at me." Her lip trembled. "You've already got your revenge, Priscilla." After saying that, she turned to Teddy. "I know you've got something to tell her. I'll go on and call you tomorrow." She turned and waddled across the patio.

  For one brief moment, Leonora wanted to run after her, throw her arms around Ruthie Elvina, and have a good cry. She knew she'd never see the old woman again. But as of this moment she'd stopped hating her. Instead she felt sorry for her. Ruthie Elvina, the big, waxy magnolia who'd bloomed too early. The petals were gone now.

  Leonora herself had bloomed much later, and from that vantage point could afford to be forgiving. She hated herself for not being more charitable to her long-ago enemy, but was too paralyzed to do anything about it.

  Leonora walked in her garden, wishing she was alone and freed of the drunken realtor. Ruthie Elvina had touched off painful memories.

  Leonora remembered what she did the nights other children were playing or getting invited to parties. In her long black braids and middy dress, she'd design costumes for the house pets, a male cat she'd named Jennifer and a German shepherd, called Boulder. She'd decorate her bedroom with ribbons and crepe paper, then invite the animals. Jennifer would always tear up his costume, but Boulder never did, providing she kept feeding him.

  "Let me have one more drink," Teddy said, stumbling over to her and interrupting her thoughts. "It'll take it to tell you what I've got to."

  "Darling," Leonora said, "it's time for my afternoon massage." Nevertheless, her interest was piqued. "Numie, another cigarette. And get this gentleman another drink—whatever his poison." She seated herself stiffly in the peacock chair. "You're not the most beautiful thing in the world, and you look even less attractive when you're drunk. But I'll hear you out."