Butterfly (11 page)

handsome he got, it seemed to Rachel. His nose was slightly crooked and a scar made his

mouth uneven—the outcome, he had explained, of a fight—but she thought these tiny

flaws only made him more attractive. He had very thick hair, almost-red, and it fell over

his forehead in a single curl. His green eyes were lazy and seemed to be only half open

most of the time, and he had a kind of playfully sly way of looking sideways at her. But

his body was tense and wiry, and he was always in motion. Whether toying with a ciga-

rette or drumming a beat on the steering wheel, Danny was never still. Rachel sensed an

intensity about him, as if he were charged with too much energy and was looking for a

place to expel it. And whenever he turned those languorous eyes on her, and lifted one

side of his mouth in a smile, she felt a jolt go through her. Danny Mackay was
magic.

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Kathryn Harvey

No longer did she dream of searching for her sister in California; she had a new dream

now.

“Yessir,” he said as he switched the car radio to a station that was playing Gospel

music. “I’m going to make something of myself. I’m going to be a big man someday,

someone to reckon with!”

She smiled and hugged his arm.

“I’m looking forward to meeting your folks, Danny.”

“Ain’t got no folks,” he said.

The city of San Antonio sat at the edge of the Mexican badlands, and to Rachel it was

like entering old Spain. She was dizzy with excitement as Danny guided the old Ford past

beautiful old missions and Mexican plazas, and down streets with names like Soledad,

Nueva, and Flores. The Wild West was still here for the romantic-minded Rachel, in

street names like Houston and Crockett. They drove past dilapidated Spanish-style

houses, and big homes that looked like Southern mansions, and ordinary storefronts that

reminded her of small towns in Arizona and New Mexico. When they turned a corner

and there was the Alamo, it took her breath away. Rachel had read a book about the siege

of the Alamo, about the small group of brave men fighting for Texan independence, dash-

ing tragic heroes like James Bowie and Davy Crockett.

And to think that she was going to live here with Danny!

He finally pulled the car up in front of what looked to Rachel like an old farmhouse.

It seemed to squat on the edge of arid chaparral and was surrounded by giant prickly pear

gone wild. On what used to be the lawn was a rusting pickup truck, raised on blocks and

without wheels. Out back she saw lines and lines of washing. Danny told Rachel to wait,

and went up the steps. He knocked once, and was let inside.

Danny was gone longer than she had expected, so she decided to read. She had closed

her book in the cafe in El Paso and hadn’t opened it in the days since. She remembered

that she was just three pages from the end. Father had promised to show Mother and the

boys some real Martians.

Twisting around, she opened her suitcase on the backseat and rummaged through her

few things. The book wasn’t there.

Danny was back a few minutes later. “My friend says we can bed down here for a few

days, until we find a place of our own. What’s the matter?”

“I’ve lost my book!”

“We’ll get you another.”

It was a sad little house; Rachel sensed it the minute she walked through the front

door. The first thing that struck her was the pungent smell of dirty diapers. The second

was the drab woman at the ironing board, listening to the same Gospel hour Danny had

had on in the car. She barely acknowledged Rachel. A brief glance up from her steamy

work, a weak smile, a return to the monotony. Rachel saw a long rack of freshly ironed

shirts and dresses, and realized that the woman must take in laundry. From somewhere at

the back of the house came the unmistakable swishing rhythm of a washing machine.

There was a young man about Danny’s age, with limp blond hair and hands shoved into

the back pockets of his pants. He said his name was Bonner Purvis, and he led the two of them

BUTTERFLY

45

through a dining room where Rachel saw uncleared breakfast dishes on the table. Remnants of

hotcakes and congealed white ham fat lay soaking in syrup; a fly sat on the uncovered butter.

They were taken to a bedroom that had an iron bed with no sheets on it, the mattress

stained and sagging, a picture of Jesus on the wall over the head. “Used to be old Tom’s

room,” Danny’s friend explained cryptically.

“Shoot, Bonner,” Danny said, and when he put a possessive arm around Rachel and

said, “It’ll do us just fine, won’t it, sweetheart?” she beamed like a sunrise and thought the

room was a palace.

They slept in it for two weeks, on borrowed blankets; and they dozed off each night

and awoke each morning to the constant beat of the tired old washing machine.

He left her there alone every day, but Rachel didn’t mind. Unlike her father, he really

was out looking for work. She didn’t know what Bonner did; the two were pretty secretive

about where they went, but she had no doubt that soon she and Danny would be in their

own place. And she knew exactly what she was going to do. First thing, she’d put up yel-

low curtains. Then she’d get some geranium seeds and plant them by the front door to let

folks know they had come to a friendly house. She’d get a cookbook, too. Not that Danny

and Bonner complained about her cooking. They came home and wolfed down her spe-

cial spicy hamburgers and then left again for the evening. Bonner’s mother said what a

blessing Rachel was, to free her from the kitchen and let her get caught up on her ironing.

A van came three times a week, bringing great big bags of dirty laundry and carting

away the clean. And three times a week Bonner took the money from his mother.

Danny made love to Rachel every night. She got so used to it that she thought noth-

ing of it anymore, especially because it didn’t take long. The tattoo had healed (the other

wound had healed, too, as her mother had said it would), and she loved the way he fell

asleep right after with his arms around her.

The only cloud to spoil what Rachel thought was really a happy time was that she

couldn’t reach her mother.

It was a long way from San Antonio to Albuquerque, but she had persuaded Danny to

let her make a phone call to the trailer park. Rachel had been devastated to be told by the

manager that the Dwyers had moved and she didn’t know where they had gone.

Rachel decided she would figure something out; she’d find them again, someday. And

then, as Mrs. Danny Mackay, she would be able take care of her mother properly.

And then Danny came home one night with good news. “Pack your things, darlin’,”

he declared. “I’m taking you out of here.”

“Danny!” she said, laughing. “Where are we going?”

“You’ll see. It’s a surprise.”

They stopped on the way for burritos and beans and then headed out of the center of

town, away from the river, eventually turning onto streets where there were bars and girls

loitering in doorways and an awful lot of men, Rachel noticed, in uniforms. “Two air

force bases up ahead,” Danny said as he steered the Ford onto a dark street. “Kelly and

Lackland. The flyboys come here for some fun.”

Danny slowed the car at the end of the street, where the pavement gave way to dirt,

and to fields beyond. Rachel stared out at the strangest sight she had ever seen. Right

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Kathryn Harvey

here, at the end of a street where all the businesses were dark and closed up for the

night, stood a brightly lit, castlelike house with rounded turrets, huge bay windows,

and gingerbread work all around. There were lights on in all the windows, so she could

see that the house was bright yellow with white trim. There were a lot of cars parked in

the dirt compound that was shielded by a prickly-pear barrier, and honky-tonk music

poured from the open doorway.

Danny carefully maneuvered the Ford along the side and around back. He paused to

light up a Camel, then said, “C’mon, Rachel.”

They entered through a screened-in porch and walked into a brightly lit kitchen,

where the savory smell of roast pork hung in the air. Rachel saw a black woman standing

at the counter rolling dough; there was an enormous bowl of freshly sliced peaches wait-

ing to be put into a pie. The kitchen was hot from the oven, and it was huge. Rachel had

never seen such a large kitchen.

“Howdy,” the woman said in a friendly way, looking up from her work and smiling.

Danny told Rachel to sit down and wait, he’d be right back.

She watched him go, the door swinging open and letting in some music and what

sounded like a cowboy yelp, then she looked uncertainly around the kitchen.

“Lordy,” said the black woman, wiping her hands on a white apron. “If you ain’t the

skinniest thing I ever did see! You must be hungry. Now you sit down there. No sense in

not eatin’ while you’re waitin’.”

Rachel did as she was told, and was soon sitting before a large wedge of warm apple

pie with a scoop of vanilla ice cream on it and a cold glass of milk.

“I’m Eulalie,” the woman said, returning to her pie-making. “Who might you be?”

“Rachel.”

“That’s a pretty name. Where you from, child?”

The ice cream was melting all over the warm pie. Rachel put the fork down and used

a spoon to scoop it all up. “New Mexico,” she said.

“Hi, honey,” said a woman who suddenly appeared in the doorway.

Rachel stared at her. She had never seen so much makeup on a face before, and Rachel

decided the woman must be rich to afford it. She was fat, too, which meant she ate well.

“Stand up. Let me look at ya.”

“Where’s Danny?”

“Talkin’ to a coupla old friends. You’re skinnier than he let on.” She came all the way

in and stared at Rachel’s face. In the past few weeks Danny had made Rachel forget her

homeliness, but this woman’s scrutiny brought back all of Rachel’s old self-consciousness.

“Stand still. I ain’t gonna eat you. Hmmm. How old are you?”

“Fourteen.”

“You got your periods yet?”

“I…I, uh…”

“’Sall right. I’ll check with Danny.”

As if he had been listening on the other side of the door, Danny came in. “So what do

you think?” he said to the woman.

“Sorta homely, ain’t she?”

BUTTERFLY

47

Danny grinned. “Rachel has hidden charms.”

Going to his side and taking possession of his arm, Rachel said, “Danny, can we go now?”

“Well, I’m afraid we can’t do that. You see, Hazel’s an old friend of mine and she’s very

generously offered to take you in and let you work for her. I don’t want her to think we’re

ungrateful.”

Rachel blinked up at him. “Work for her?” She looked at the black woman, who was

pounding that dough as if she were all alone in the kitchen and angry somehow. “What

kind of work, Danny?”

“Just doing what Hazel here tells you to do.”

“You mean maid work? Is this a boardinghouse, Danny?”

“It’ll be all right. Shoot, you’ll even like it, I’ll bet.”

“Like what? What are you making me do, Danny?”

Now he grew grave. His voice came on like a minister’s and he put on a stern-father

expression. “Well, the hard truth of the matter, darlin’, is that we’re flat broke and I can’t

find a job. We can’t impose on Bonner and his mother any longer, so one of us has to

work. Hazel has agreed to let you work for her here. Even though you are underage and

she’s already got all the girls she needs. It won’t be for too long, sugar. I promise. Then

we’ll move into our own place, just like you wanted.”

“But…” She glanced at the woman in the doorway, who was inspecting her fingernails

with a bored expression. “What do I have to do?”

“You just be nice to her customers, is all. Kind of like a, well, hostess.”

“Danny, no—”

“It’s real easy. The easiest way to make money as far as I know. You just lie back and let

the customer do all the work.”

“Oh God, Danny. No!”

His grip tightened on her shoulders. “Now listen. I’ve worked my butt off trying to get

a job, but it’s no go. So now you’re going to have to pitch in. You don’t want to be a para-

site off me, do you?”

Suddenly she heard her father’s voice saying,
You parasite.

“Danny,” she sobbed. “Please don’t make me—”

“Now listen, Rachel. You’re used to sex by now. You know there’s nothing to it. You

just take Hazel’s customers up to your room, and lie back, just like you did for me.”

She was crying in earnest now.

He gave Hazel an exasperated look. She shrugged and said, “The young ones always

cry at first. She’ll get over it.”

“Damnit, Rachel. I’m supposed to meet Bonner and already I’m late. Now, stop being

such a baby. If this is what you’re really like, then you can just forget about us. I’ll just go

out and get myself a girl who really cares about me.”

“Danny!
I
care!”

“If you did you wouldn’t be throwin’ such a hissy fit over nothing. For Christ’s sake.

You’ll have a place to live, regular meals, and a salary. Of course, Hazel will turn your pay

over to me to put into our nest egg. But I’ll give you an allowance. You can buy yourself

some pretty clothes.”