White Butterfly
the light coming on and her standing there in the harsh electric glare. There was sweat on her face and glistening in her pubic hair. She looked at me with an emotion I could not read.
    “I love you,” I said.
    I passed into sleep before her answer came.
     
     
    IT WAS AFTERNOON IN MY DREAM. That golden sort of sunny day that they only get in southern California. Bonita Edwards was sitting under that tree with her legs out in front of her and her hands, palms up, at her side. There were birds, sparrows and jays, foraging through the grasses around her. A little breeze put the tiniest chill in the air.
    “Who did this?” I asked the dead girl.
    She turned to me. The bullet hole showed sky-blue in her head.
    “What?” she asked in a timid little voice.
    “Who did this to you?”
    Then she started to cry. It was strange because it wasn’t the sound that a woman makes when she cries.
    Regina was leaning up against the tree with both hands. Her skirt was hiked up above her buttocks and a large naked man was taking her from behind. Her head whipped from side to side and she had a powerful orgasm but making the same kind of strange crying noises that Bonita Edwards made.
    I hated them all. I could feel the hatred down in my body like a deep breath. I grabbed Bonita by the lapels of her pink party dress and lifted her. She hung down, heavy like the corpse she was, still crying.
    Crying in that strange way. Like a kitten maybe. Or an inner tube squealing from a leak. Like a baby.
    I opened my eyes, feeling chilly because I had kicked off the blankets. Edna was crying in little bursts. I got up and stumbled to the door. At the door I looked back to see that Regina had her eyes open. She was looking at the ceiling.
    I was frightened by her. But I dismissed the fear as part of my dream.
    Soon it will all be over, I thought. They’ll catch the killer and my nightmares will go away.
     
     
     

— 6 —
     
     
    I WENT TO THE KITCHEN to put Edna’s formula on the stove. Then I got a diaper from the package that Jesus brought home every other day from LuEllen Stone.
    Edna was crying in the corner of the living room where we’d set up her crib. I turned on the small lamp and loomed over her. That silenced the cries for a moment. Then I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. That got a smile and a coo. I carried her back to the kitchen, where I laid her on a sheet rolled out over the kitchen table. I filled a red rubber tub with tepid water and undid the safety pin of her diapers.
    She was crying again but not angrily. She was just telling me that she felt bad. I could have joined her.
    I washed her with a soft chamois towel, saying little nonsense things and kissing her now and again. By the time she was clean all the tears were gone. The bottle was ready and I changed her fast. I held her to my chest again and gave her the bottle. She suckled and cooed and clawed at my nose.
    I turned toward the door to see Regina there staring at us.
    “You really love her, don’t you, baby?” she asked.
    I would rather her call me that sweet name than make love to any other woman in the world. It was like she opened a door, and I was ready to run in.
    I smiled at her and in that moment I saw something shift in her eyes. It was as if a light went out, like the door closed before I got the chance to make it home.
    “Baby,” I said.
    Edna shifted in my arms so that she could see her mother. She held one arm out to her and Regina took her from me.
    “I need some money,” Regina said.
    “How much?”
    “Six hundred dollars.”
    “I could do that.” I nodded and sat down.
    “How?”
    I looked up at her, not really understanding the question.
    “I asked you how, Easy.”
    “You asked if I could get you six hundred dollars.”
    When she shook her head her straightened hair flung from one side to the other and then froze there at the left side of her head.
    “Uh-uh. I said that I needed that money. I ain’t ax you fo’nuthin’. You
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