Butterfly Beach

It was hot. It was muggy. It was late. They’d been riding around for two hours looking for a camp site, and their tempers were beginning to frazzle. Janice was distinctly disenchanted with the young man her daughter Davvy had chosen as the father of her second child. She’d been trying her best, but frankly, he’d been a wet blanket on this whole expedition in the lovely mountains of West Virginia. She knew that a lot of fellows had trouble getting on with their mothers-in-law – or mother-OUT-law, as she termed herself – so she had been trying to overlook his sulks, his sighs, the fact that he had to take a nap every afternoon, the fact that she and Davvy did all the work setting up the tents. And deep down she liked Alan. He was a minister’s son and had good values. It was just that on this particular trip he was a dud. She began to suspect that he didn’t really like to camp, but it was too late to do anything about that. Thank God for daughter Davvy’s equanimity. Right now she was nursing the baby in the backseat and playing "I see a color" with three-year-old Polly, whom they all called Polliwog.

They went over a pothole and bounced every which way. Good thing the car was old, scratched and already in need of a shock absorber job when they’d started out; a new car would be ruined in no time. The road was terrible, but the landscape was pretty, with a meandering river that could faintly be seen through the trunks of the beech trees that grew everywhere. Here and there were occasional open spaces where sunlight poured through the foliage. And the land had finally flattened out in this stretch.

"Hey ! How ‘bout here ? This would be a fine place," said Davvy from the backseat, calmly but with authority, as if Alan hadn’t already rejected five areas exactly like it during the preceding two hours.

"Oh, yes! Let’s check it out," seconded Janice, perhaps a bit too hastily. It was already after five in the afternoon, and she didn’t relish getting involved in another long search after traveling a couple of more hours.

She waited for Alan’s usual "But it doesn’t have enough trees" (or enough beach or enough flat land or enough …whatever.) However, this time he miraculously said, "Yeah, maybe. I’ll pull over first place I find." And soon, sure enough, within ten seconds, just before the road started to climb steeply again, they found a pull-off with a track leading down under the trees. Alan backed the car onto it and proceeded slowly until they reached a patch of mud. "Better not push our luck too far. I don’t want to get stuck."

They all piled out. Davvy still had Tommy on her breast, but she slowly separated the little lips, which were no longer exerting suction, and placed the baby in his carrying chair. In the meantime, Polly was pulling Janice towards the river; she had her mother’s attraction to any body of water, whether fast-flowing or stagnant.

"It’s perfect!" the little girl exclaimed when they got to the beach. There was actually sand, though not really the castle-making kind. But the river looked swimmable, and there were a lot of rocks off to the side that looked climable.

"I love it here! Come on Granny, let’s get our swimsuits on."

Janice said a silent prayer that Alan would not find something wrong with the place. Perfectionism was all very fine, but not if it meant setting up tents in the dark like the previous night, when they hadn’t managed to eat dinner until after 10 PM, with everybody starving and cranky.

Her worries ended back at the car, where she discovered Alan unloading the tent poles and telling Davvy how happy he was with the spot. As for Davvy – she was adaptable to anything. Alan pointed out that there were even three fire pits at different places among the trees. "See? This is much better than a campground," he declared grandly.

Janice nodded but reserved judgment. She preferred free camping in theory, but felt that it was silly to discount official sites altogether. For one thing, they had water; for another, you were sure you were not on the private property of someone who might come after you with a dog or a gun; for a third, you felt somewhat protected against maniacs, although the few campgrounds they had stayed in this week had made her uneasy with their Case your Guns signs. At any rate, this place seemed ideal. There was sun by the river, shade under the trees, and water to wash dishes and to bathe in. They continued to unload the car, appreciating every yard Alan had driven it along the leafy track, for it was still quite a trek to the spot they had chosen near the first fire pit. Alan carried the heavy tent and Janice the small two-very-friendly-people affair that she and Polliwog slept in, while Davvy juggled the baby and some of his equipment. The women went back for the box of plates, pots and silverware and the bag of food essentials they always hung from a branch in case of bears. Janice had never come across a wild bear in her life, but Davvy had in the Rockies.

Alan volunteered to go into the nearest town, about eight miles away, to get dinner supplies. Davvy quickly made a list, deciding on their "fancy" fare – chicken and mushrooms on rice (as opposed to the usual spaghetti, spaghetti, spaghetti). As Alan drove off, Janice turned to Davvy: "You know, I don’t think he really cares for camping. He’s always running off to do the shopping, and he takes ages doing it."

"Well, he sneaks in a cup of coffee and maybe tries to stretch out a few minutes away from the kids. But aren’t we lucky? Because you and I hate to shop."

Yes, Janice decided, they were indeed lucky. She shouldn’t be so hard on Alan in her mind. He really was a great guy. So what if he took an eternity looking for the ideal camping spot!

The two women set up the tents and arranged the cooking area. By then Polliwog, who had been very helpful sliding the poles into each other and pulling out the tent sides for pegging in, was begging to go to the river, so Janice and she quickly changed into their bathing suits and were soon splashing each other and climbing on rocks. Davvy elected to remain under the trees with Tommy and a copy of Tony Morrison’s Beloved – she was reading it for the fifth time.

Janice watched the lithe form of her granddaughter in her blue-and-white striped bathing suit and pink water wings. She was a sprite, an elf, a fairy, an ethereal being. The two of them had hit it off from the very beginning, perhaps because divorced Janice had felt especially protective of the offspring of single-mother Davvy, and more so because grandmother’s and granddaughter’s personalities meshed. They were absolutely inseparable when they got together, which wasn’t half often enough as far as Janice was concerned. They lived almost a continent apart from each other, and her job as school principal kept her busy, except for one month in the summer, which she zealously claimed as her own, whether or not the sewer lines burst, or some idiot wrote graffiti on the outside walls, or a July influx of non- English-speaking refugees from the latest war-torn spot overwhelmed the office staff.

When they were done swimming and climbing, they sat on the sand, and Janice dried off the little body with a towel and then hugged her closely, as the day’s heat had disappeared, although there was still sun on the beach. Indeed, there was one patch in particular … "Polliwog, do you see what I see?"

"Ohhhhhhh!" Together they walked along to a spot that was no more than a square yard in size, where butterflies were shimmering in some intricate vertical dance. There were tens, hundreds, thousands of them in blues, pinks, yellows, and purples. It was absolutely magnificent. Janice had never seen anything like it.

"Why are they all here, Granny?"

"Wish I knew, darling. And not a single one anywhere else."

"Maybe they like each other."

"I’m sure you’re right about that!"

They stood watching the glorious quivering; then, just as they were deciding to go fetch Davvy, she herself appeared, carrying a burbling Tommy. Polly jumped up and down with excitement . "Come, come! Look at this!”

Davvy too was fascinated by the scene, but it was Tommy who was most enthralled. He sat on the sand, his fat little arms reaching out to grab the fluttering bits of color, although, of course, they easily escaped his random grasps.

Alan, who had returned from his town expedition, joined the group and began musing about the temperature and components of sand along with mating odors and dances. However, since the supplies had now arrived, the women were more interested in dinner than in scientific musings. They had had only one sandwich apiece seven hours previously and consequently were ravenous. It was not easy to cook with only one pot and one pan, but they had established a fairly brisk routine and in about half an hour everybody except the baby was sitting on logs and oohing and aahing over the delicious chicken in a thick mushroom cream sauce that Davvy had created. Even Polliwog, who could be difficult about food, asked for seconds. The wine had made the adults feel mellow, and little Tommy was his usual bubbly self, high on milk.

Suddenly they heard the sound of a motor. It was the first vehicle that had gone by since they’d been there. It slowed down as it passed their campsite and came to a halt a few yards after the road began its ascent. Janice could just manage to discern a pick-up through the foliage of the trees. Then she heard doors open and slam and a female voice shout "Whee-hee," followed by a male "Here she comes!" There was a crash and rumble through the thickets, and she briefly glimpsed an oil drum rolling down the hillside, coming to rest at the next fire circle.

No sooner was this accomplished than another vehicle, this one a battered car, pulled up behind the pick-up. She wasn’t sure how many people crawled out, but they made a lot of noise, shouting about how many cases of beer the pick-up folks had brought. Then they crashed down the slope like a herd of buffalo.

"I knew it was too good to be true," she ventured.

"Now Mom … don’t be pessimistic."

"Sounds as if it’s going to be mighty noisy."

"Aw, they’re just having some Friday night fun."

Davvy was extremely non-judgmental. Janice appreciated this quality, but it could sometimes get on her nerves. She had a feeling this was going to be one of the nights it infuriated her. She herself veered in the opposite direction and had already judged these people, especially now that they were shouting "Where the fuck di’ya put the hammer;" "Where the fuck’s the opener;" and "Get yer ass over here."

"Gosh, those people are loud," declared Polliwog, mentioning nothing about the foul abusive language.

"Loud and vulgar," seconded Alan.

"Well, aren’t we all being high and mighty! " exclaimed Davvy in disgust as she started towards the river with the dirty dishes – it was her turn to do the washing up.

"Granny, let’s play hide-and-seek."

"OK," said Janice, "but that way." She pointed in the opposite direction from the noisy new neighbors.

"Tommy and I will take a stroll. ‘That way’, too," declared Alan, arranging the baby in the front pack and sauntering off.

Soon Janice and Polly were playing a child’s version of hide-and-seek, which consisted of Polly, eyes firmly shut, standing in full view of her grandmother. Janice wondered how old one had to be to get the knack of it; three apparently was just a little young. But they had a wonderful time counting until the other person "hid". "One-two-three-four-five-six-eight-eleven-twelve!" Polly would shout, while Janice hid her not-so-slim body behind a not-so-fat tree.

When they reunited back at the tent about half an hour later, Davvy announced that she had spoken with the neighbors. "They aren’t so bad. Just having a little fun, like I said. And they’ve got a boy with them."

"A boy ?"

"Yes. About nine or ten years old."

"And he’s listening to all that lovely language?"

"Since when have you been a prude, Mom?"

"Since never. It’s just that there are limits, and I feel that these people go beyond them."

No sooner had she said that than "Get yer fuckin’ass over here" came through the trees.

"I admit that it would be better if Polliwog didn’t hear all that, but they’re just having a party, that’s all."

"Well, they’ve spoiled the campsite as far as I’m concerned. If it weren’t getting dark I’d suggest we move on."

"Oh no, we’re not going to do that after all the trouble we had finding this spot!"

Alan seconded Davvy. "We’ll just ignore them."

It wasn’t that easy. "JIM, YOU SONUVABITCH" wafted through the air.

"How many of them are there?"

"I’m not sure. There’s a couple – the parents of the boy – and I saw two other guys. There may be more."

"Sounds as if there are at least ten of them."

"Naw, nowhere near that many. Hey, Polliwog, it’s time for our bedtime story. First, though, brush teeth and get into pajamas."

And so they began their normal nightly routine. Davvy had brought along more than twenty library books, and each night she read one to Polly until it became too dark. Then Polly would crawl into the little tent with Janice, where Janice would then continue the improvised ongoing saga of Princess Polly and the Pirates until she heard the regular breathing of the little one. She was always too tired to stay up and read her own book. She would curl around Polly – each had her own sleeping bag, but they still managed lots of snuggles – and fall asleep five minutes after her granddaughter. Just before she drifted off to sleep this time she heard a click, and then a radio began blasting cacophonous Heavy Metal sounds, but she was so exhausted she just moved down a bit in her bag and soon was sound asleep.

She awoke with a start. It was pitch black in the tent. She couldn’t see a thing. But she could hear her neighbors, who were still partying, if that was what it could be called. Things seemed to have turned sour. The woman was screaming, "You just try that, you chickenshit," and a man was shouting, "I’ll tear you to pieces, bitch!" There were a few crashes and thuds, then more vulgarities. The radio continued to emit thumping drums and screeching voices. It sounded as if it was two feet away.

Janice had to pee. She didn’t want to leave the dark sepulchral tent, but she really couldn’t hold it in anymore. Not able to locate the flashlight, she unzipped the tent flap by feel and squatted a few feet away from the canvas so as not to inundate it. When she was finished she stood up and glimpsed a scene straight out of Goya: flames leaping from the oil drum, dark figures lurching around in drunken movements, some of them falling on the ground, shouting fuck you’s.

She rushed back into the tent, not wanting to be perceived. She hoped the canvas was protection enough – these people sounded violent. And what if the flames set the trees on fire? After a bit of groping she found the opening of her sleeping bag and slipped in, then curled herself around Polly. She would protect her granddaughter against these forces of evil!

"Stick it up your ass!"

"I’ll cut ya, ya slut!"

Janice grasped Polly more tightly, and tried to sleep, but it seemed to take forever …

At some point she was aware of waking up again, aware that the radio was no longer blaring, that obscenities were no longer being shouted. Whew! The orgy was over. She resolved to get up early and enjoy the beach before these… these… hillbillies spoiled it. Surely they would sleep late, as they had been up most of the night.

Her sleep had not been a tranquil one, and she awoke groggily around seven. Alan was already up and had made coffee, a wonderful routine of his. She must remember that when she got irritated with him the next time. Soon Davvy emerged from their tent and another pot was brewed. Then Polliwog appeared, followed by Tommy’s whimpers. Davvy slapped the baby to her breast, and everybody made their way to the beach, the adults sipping coffee from their cups. It was a lovely morning, full of calm. The beach was still in shadow, but the sun was shining with full force on the silver rocks in the river. The peace didn’t last long. Soon there were shouts from the camping spot of their neighbors, and two skinny long-haired men in cut-off jeans came crashing through the woods, chasing each other onto the beach. The first dove into the river, and the second followed suit. They couldn’t have had more than three hours sleep.

"Gee, awfully early to swim," said Polly, who usually was ready to take the plunge at any time of day or night.

The men were not good swimmers. They flailed around for a bit, then emerged onto the beach farther down, just as a man, woman and boy came out of the trees. Janice caught a glimpse of the couple for the first time. Jack Sprat and his wife. She must have weighed two hundred pounds, whereas he was skinny as a rail, unshaven and missing the two upper front teeth. The boy was pudgy – on his way to resembling his mother more than his father. The adults had a beer in each hand. "Ya fergot yer cans," shouted the woman to the white-skinned swimmers, who ran up, grabbed the beers, and chug-a-lugged them down.

And then onto the beach padded a little poodle. Janice was utterly astounded. If there was one kind of dog she would NOT have expected this bunch to have, it was a poodle. A coon hound or a pit bull wouldn’t have surprised her in the least.

"Aw, he’s so cute. Can I go touch him?" asked Polly.

"Sure," said Davvy. "Let’s go make friends with our neighbors." She cast an arched glance at Janice and strolled towards the group. Janice followed very slowly, reluctant to get close but curious all the same. Alan remained behind with Tommy in the front pack.

"Can I pet your dog?" Polly asked .

"Sure. He don’t bite too much," said the woman. Then she laughed. Janice hoped she was joking.

Polly and the dog fooled around together for a bit. Then Polly asked, "Can he swim?"

"I dunno, he…"

The man interrupted, "Sure he can swim. All dogs can swim."

"I’m not so sure ‘bout…"

"I am. Here. I’ll show ‘ya." The man bent down, picked up the dog, and threw it into the river.

The dog promptly sank straight to the bottom.

Without hesitation Davvy jumped into the water, reached down, and retrieved the poor shivering animal, who appeared to be in a state of total shock.

"That there is the shiveringest dog I ever did see," said the man.

"Now look what you did. You never did like my dog."

"Aw, go wrap him in a blanket. He’ll recover."

“If he don’t, I’m comin’ after you with the hatchet.”

“You jest try it, you bitch…”

Davvy, trying to look casual with Polly in tow, beat a hasty retreat to Alan and the baby.. Janice had already removed herself from the sight of the poor dog.

It was decided that perhaps breakfast would wipe away the bad feeling they all had. Soon eggs were scrambling, bread frying in bubbly butter. Wonderful sounds, wonderful smells.

All of a sudden they became away of pop- pop noises coming from the direction of the beach.

"What the hell is going on now?" Janice asked.

"Dunno. I’ll take a look." Alan strode off and was back in less than two minutes, a scowl on his face. "Kid’s shooting fish."

"What?"

"Kid’s shooting fish."

"He’s got a gun?"

"Yeah. It’s just a BB, but still, he’s making a fish massacre."

"Hmmm…" said mild-mannered Davvy. "That’s pretty gross."

"I think we should leave." Janice spoke decisively.

"Naw, we’re having breakfast." Davvy refused to admit the seriousness of the situation.

"I mean, after breakfast."

"Naw, it’s too beautiful here."

"It may be beautiful, but those people are definitely NOT beautiful."

"Well, it’s not nice, but a BB gun isn’t really dangerous."

"Yes it is, if it hits you in the eye or the ear. God knows how much control a ten-year-old has. And what about those adults? What if they get mad at each other again and start shooting? I bet they have real guns somewhere. I don’t want Polliwog or Tommy anywhere near those people."

"Breakfast is ready!" Davvy called to Alan, who was breathing heavily and staring moodily through the trees towards the beach. She served up the eggs, and conversation gave way to mastication.

When they were all done, Polly cocked her head and said, "Hey, I don’t hear any more pop-pop sounds."

It was true. Silence reigned. Their neighbors had apparently gone off for a stroll or perhaps finally fallen asleep. Perhaps everything would be all right after all. It was Janice’s turn to do dishes. The others decided to accompany her to the river. Solidarity was a good thing in the circumstances they were in. When they arrived they saw that the sun was at last hitting the sand, and the butterflies were hovering over the same patch as they had the previous day.

"It must have something to do with temperature," said Alan. "They weren’t there a while ago because the beach was still in the shade."

"It still doesn’t explain why they’re only in that spot rather than all over the beach."

"True. I wish I knew more about science. Oops! I smell poop."

"Here. Give him to me. I’ll change him back at the tent," Davvy swooped up the odiferous little fellow and walked away quickly.

"Granny, will you play Go Fish with me ?"

"Sure, Polliwog, if that’s what you want."

The women settled down by the tents. After changing Tommy Davvy put him in his plastic chair and began to read her book. Janice and Polliwog got involved in a vicious game of Go Fish. Somehow Polliwog ended up with all the cards, much to her giggles and Janice’s dramatic dismay.

Suddenly pop-pop-pop could be heard again by the beach.

"Where’s Alan?" Janice looked around anxiously.

"Dunno. Strolling, I guess."

"Well, I hope he’s not near that insane kid."

"For heaven’s sakes, Mom, Alan knows how to protect himself from a BB gun."

"Bah. He’s a pacifist. He doesn’t know how to deal with people like this.

"Do you, Mom?"

"Hell no! That’s why I think we all ought to leave."

All of a sudden through the trees they heard a roar. It was Alan’s voice, hollering: "YOU ASSHOLE KID ! TAKE THAT GUN OFFA THIS BEACH. YOU’RE KILLING THEM FOR NO REASON AT ALL. WHAT THE FUCK IS THE MATTER WITH YOU?"

Then what sounded like a bear thrashed through the underbrush, and Alan emerged wild-eyed. "Pack up! We’re outta this place. Those people are hopeless. He was shooting the butterflies, for Chrissakes!"

The women stared at him for a few moments. Never had Janice heard such language from Alan, the minister’s son. For a moment she stood stock still. Then she shook herself out of her amazement and began to take the tent pegs out of the ground. Davvy put up no protest; apparently, she, too, felt that a line had been crossed with the butterfly slaughter. They packed in silence. Even Polliwog kept her mouth shut. Within twenty minutes they were in the car. It was the fastest they had ever broken camp.

Alan gunned the motor and they sped out of the leafy lane.

"I’m glad you made that decision," said Janice quietly. "But I must say, I was surprised to hear you speak like that."

Alan grimaced. "I asked him politely, and he just kept shooting at them. So I talked to him the way his parents do. It’s what he’s used to, and it got results."

"Listen, some people haven’t had the advantages we have," chimed Davvy from the back seat.

Janice turned around. "Those were AWFUL people. There’s such a thing as being too tolerant, you know."

Davvy settled back and said, "I don’t think it’s ever wrong to be too tolerant. It’s certainly better than being too prejudiced."

Janice supposed that was a barb at her. She had judged these people right from the beginning, when they rolled down the oil drum with whoops and where the fuck’s. But was that prejudice or just the ability to size up a situation? Was Davvy going to get herself in trouble one of these days with her inherent trust in people? Janice hoped not.

But there was no point in worrying about that now. She unfolded the map in her lap. Her job was to direct them to the next national park, where she knew the endless process of finding the very best site would begin yet again. Perhaps this time, however, she might get them to agree on spending the night in an official campground.