Swallowtail Butterfly: “In the East, adults fly primarily in late spring and summer, but this butterfly is more common in late summer and fall in the South and Southwest. Where lack of freezing temperatures permit, the female adult may fly continuously. In lowland tropical Mexico, they may be found in any month.” – Encarta

Michael remembered when he met Janie at a diner on a Memphis spring morning ten years ago.  She was 18 and he had just celebrated his 21st birthday the night before.  His head felt a little thick, and his eyesight and hearing were not too dependable. She offered him coffee, but he didn’t hear her the first time.

“Hi, I’m Janie. I say, you look like you could use a whole pot instead of a cup,” she said, bending down a little into his line of sight, her scoop-necked tee-shirt allowed a peek of her breasts.

“What?”  Oh, yeah.  Give me some coffee, please.”  There was a caring look in her gray-green eyes.

“I hope it was a good time you had, not a bad one,” she said over her shoulder as she went back to the kitchen.

He watched her sashay away, swinging her tightly jeaned bottom in a deliberate invitation.  His head hurt, but not too much to read the proposition.  It was 4 AM, and he hadn’t been to sleep all night.  His friend, Tim, brought him to Jim Bob’s All-Night Diner for a birthday breakfast, then left him in a booth while he sought out the facilities to relieve a churning stomach.  Tim, the sober one, the designated driver, had eaten something during their all-nighter that sent him into the bathroom every twenty minutes.  The other partygoers had been dropped at their homes to sleep off the celebration.  All five planned to meet again at the racetrack later that day.

“Here you go,” she said when she came back with a pot of coffee, two cups, and a bottle of aspirin.

“How do you want your eggs?  With eyes or without?”

“No eggs, just toast.”

“You need protein to sop up some of that barley pop.  How about scrambled and a side of country ham?” 

“No, I really don’t want eggs.  Thanks for the aspirin, though.”  He took two pills and swallowed them with some coffee.

“Is your friend coming back?”

“He’s feeling a little rough, but he’ll be back.”

“Shall I bring him eggs, too?”

“Just the toast, toast only.”  Michael looked around the restaurant.  He was the only customer.  He could see the cook through the pass-thru window at the kitchen.  A few minutes later, she was back with a plate of scrambled eggs, hash browns, ham, and two plates of toast.  She put them down in front of Michael and stood with her hands on her hips. 

“Now, you eat as much as you can.  The sooner you get something in your tummy, the faster you’ll feel human again.”

“What is your problem?  I said I just wanted toast.  Take the rest of this back.  I’m not paying for what I didn’t order.”  His head throbbed at the exertion of making this statement.

The girl slid into the booth across from him.  “It’s okay.  I paid for it.  Just eat what you can, I’ll eat the rest.  What’s your name?  I’m Janie. I don’t think you heard me when I told you the first time.”

She sat and watched him eat, taking bites off the hash browns herself.  The cook yelled at her once to get back to work, and she ignored him.  He said he’d call the manager, and she said that was fine. 

“You don’t want to lose your job, do you?” Michael asked.

“Not much of a job. I was just doing this until something better came along, and it has.”  She looked directly into his eyes and smiled.

Tim came out of the restroom, looking pale green, glistening with sick sweat. 

“I can’t drive, old buddy.  I’m too fucked up.  Can you get us both home?”

“Don’t worry.  I’ll take you home,” Janie said, taking the car keys Tim held out to Michael.  “Hey, Howie.  I quit.  See ya in the movies.”  She undid the apron and laid it on the counter. 

The cook came out sputtering oaths. “Damn it! You can’t just quit like that.  The breakfast crowd will be starting in a few minutes.”

“Call Shirley. She likes the overtime. Bye.”

She dropped Tim off at his apartment, then took Michael home to sleep off the beer.  She sent him out with his friends for the afternoon while she stayed at his apartment.  He figured she’d be gone when he got home and was surprised to find a birthday cake, ice cream, and a tiny gray and white kitten when he returned at 9:00 that night. 

“What’s with the cat?” asked Michael.

“He was hanging out in the parking lot at the grocery store when I walked over to get the cake mix and ice cream.  He said his name was Moses and he was wandering in the wilderness.  I decided to bring him home for your birthday.  He might not want to stay, but he’ll let us know later.”

They made first time love for hours that night, discovering the pleasures of each other’s bodies.

“Are you homeless?” he asked the next morning.

“Not entirely.  I could go back to my Uncle Bill’s, but I’d rather not.  His job is done now that I’ve graduated from high school.  He is the school drama teacher and a sweet old queen, who loves everything Elvis. But I’m tired of hanging out in fairy land.  You will find I’m very useful around the house, I can cook, and I don’t eat much.  I do think Moses is homeless, though, so why don’t we offer him a permanent gig?”

She and Moses stayed with him for the next year.  She exaggerated the ‘I can cook’ part of her resume.  She was good at boxed cakes and boiled hot dogs, but Michael decided to do most of the real cooking.  Nevertheless, she didn’t eat much, and she was handy around the house.  She could fix any appliance that got sideways, and she was fun between the sheets. 

Janie had no end of interesting stories to tell of her adventures as an orphan in the custody of various relatives and near-relatives. She was born in Texas but lived all over the U.S. Her parents were murdered in a home invasion when she was six. She witnessed it from a hiding place in a closet through the louvers on the door. The effects of that trauma were still showing up in her life, even though she had been cared for by a loving family.

“They all tell family stories from a different point of view, and the heroes and villains change depending on the narrator.  I’ve been shuffled around several states.  I have a very complex view of my family.”

Janie got a job at a craft store while he continued working at the local newspaper and finished his degree in creative writing.  She bought materials for painting and showed him on canvas the colorful world that was in her head. She said she had painted since she was a little girl, and it was as important to her as breathing.  He read her his poetry and introduced her to his parents. 

Then one day, he came home from work to find a note.

Gone Greyhound back to Texas, maybe, it read.  I’ll call when I find out where I am.  Moses will keep you company until then.  Love, Janie

That was the first of her escapes.

“I wasn’t abused or a sex slave or anything exotic,” she once told him.  “My relatives were good to me, but because of one circumstance or another, no one could give me a permanent home, so I was passed around.  I lived with five families until I stayed with Uncle Bill, who got me through high school. I’ve been on my own for a while now. Aunt Betty in Louisiana was my favorite.  She bought my first art supplies when I was ten and encouraged me to draw and paint.  She gave me my passion.”

Michael thought Janie would eventually settle, and they might even get married, but like a nomadic butterfly, she would only light for a short time, then fly off again.  They rarely fought, and she never left mad.  She seemed to have little capacity for anger.  He never knew why she left.  She just left. 

It was to Texas that he first followed her, a little town called Canyon. And it was in Texas that they acquired the goddess-mobile.  It started life as a used 1982 Toyota truck with a camper shell.  Inside the camper, Jane hung beaded curtains, made devotional alters for her Buddha, golden plastic Ganesh, serene Vishnu, and an eclectic collection of saints.  She was ready for any possibility, if the hereafter came calling.

Michael installed a foldout bed, camper-sized refrigerator, and a sink with a 50-gallon water tank.  He put in outlets for a microwave and hotplate.  In the cab, Janie glued statues of saints, Joseph and Francis, a St. Christopher medal, a plush Garfield with rosary beads around his neck, assorted rocks, leaves, and seeds she collected in her travels, on a piece of green faux fur that covered the dash.  She painted designs and quotes around the outside of the truck and camper:

This is part of a short story about Michael and his wandering love, Janie. The story continues in the next post.