Early Spring 01 Broken Flower

by V. C. Andrews

  "We'd better go home, Ian," I repeated. "Mama will be very angry."

  He looked at his watch. "I would like to see the collection and we have at least an hour," he told me. "You want to go back, go."

  I looked at the woods.

  "The bear could have come around and might be in there," Flora said.

  "That's possible," Ian said.

  I knew they were just trying to frighten me, but even though I knew it, I was still afraid.

  Flora's mother emerged again and went down the small stairway. She waved at us and continued to her right to walk out of the campground and down to the lake. Her hips were so big, she looked like she waddled instead of walked.

  "C'mon," Flora said, and we went into the camper.

  The first thing that I noticed was the odor. It smelled like burnt toast. There was a very small kitchen to our left and a table just to our right, now covered with the tablecloth Flora's mother had shaken out a few minutes ago. The dishes from breakfast and maybe from dinner the night before as well were still piled in the sink.

  The camper had a small living room and down a hallway after that two bedrooms with the bigger one being at the very end. Flora explained that Addison slept on the pullout sofa and she had the other bedroom.

  "My father keeps promising to get us a cabin up here one day, too, but I'm not holding my breath," Flora said.

  She led us to her bedroom. It was really just a double bed with built-in dressers. The bed wasn't made neatly. The blanket had been folded back unevenly and the top sheet hung down on one side. There were magazines and books on the floor. She went to one of the dressers and opened the bottom drawer to take out what looked like a big album.

  "This is it," she told Ian, and sat on the bed. She opened it on her lap and I saw butterflies in little plastic bags stuck to the pages. "I have five

  swallowtails on this page," she began, and pointed as she identified them: "A pipevine, zebra, black, eastern tiger, and a spicebush.

  "On this page I have the fritillaries. Here I have the northern metalmark and here," she said, turning another page, "I have three checkerspots.

  "When we were in Florida last year. I got three sulphurs and this great purple hairstreak."

  "Fantastic," Ian said.

  I thought they were pretty, but I felt sorry for them trapped in little bags. Did they die in the bags or before?

  "I'm getting a danaid from Hong Kong. Should be here in a few weeks," she told Ian.

  "Why are you collecting them?" I asked, and she looked up at me as if I was the dumbest person on earth.

  "They're beautiful to look at, aren't they?"

  "Yes."

  She looked at Ian. "Do you know that Japanese haiku about the butterfly?"

  "Which one? There are a number of them," he said.

  "What's a haiku?" I asked.

  "A poem, a three-line poem," Flora said. "I'm in advanced English class," she bragged.

  "You don't have to be in advanced English to know that," Ian said.

  "The poem I'm thinking of goes, 'A butterfly died on the water. He thought he died on the moon."'

  "How could he die on the moon if he died on the water?" I asked.

  "The moon's reflection on the water," Ian said.

  "Do butterflies think?" I asked, looking at them in the plastic bags.

  "Not like us, but butterflies are a wonder in nature, Jordan. They start as caterpillars, you know."

  I looked at Ian. I had forgotten that and I remembered now how interested he was in caterpillars and what he had taught me about them.

  "They live to consume, eat. They're always hungry. They die, in a way. They form a chrysalis, pupa. It looks like a tiny leather pouch under a leaf. Inside it, the caterpillar is changing, metamorphosing into a butterfly. They actually go through four stages of life, an egg, a caterpillar, pupa, and then finally, the beautiful butterfly."

  "Egg?" I said.

  "Yes. We begin as egg, too."

  "I know,"

  "Good. Then we're just like caterpillars, cute or ugly but just eating and sleeping until we hit puberty," she said, and my eyes widened. "Through puberty we mature. A little girl becomes a woman. Imagine when the butterfly comes to life and looks at itself. Its own body is probably the most fascinating thing in the world, just as ours becomes to us."

  "We don't know that they look at themselves," Ian said. "Aside from Homo sapiens, I know that only capuchin monkeys have a self-image."

  "Imagine that they do," Flora said, impatient with him, "It's how a teacher might explain it to her."

  "Is that what you want to be, a teacher?" Ian asked her.

  Flora shrugged. 'I don't know what I'll be. I'm still metamorphosing," she said. Then she looked at me again. "You're coming out of the pupa, Jordan. Early, but nevertheless, you're coming out. They might be able to stop you for a while with the medicine, but you're getting a taste of what it will be nevertheless. I hope it's easier for you than it was for me. I might be able to help a little,"

  She paused and went to another drawer, took out some of her clothes, and then brought out a cloth bag tightly tied with a cord.

  "What's that?" Ian asked nervously,

  "Something she can have if you want her to," she said, and slowly opened the bag.

  "Hell no!" Ian said when she took out what looked like a toy rocket.

  Flora shrugged. "She gave it to me. I left that out of the story about Gwen and me. You sure?"

  "Of course I'm sure."

  She put it back into the bag and tightened the cord again. "Whatever," she said, and looked at me. "Whether your brother likes it or not. Jordan, one way or another you're going to be a butterfly. And the medicine you take won't stop you from knowing what it's like."

  11 The Caterpillar and the Butterfly

  . Ian was strangely quiet all the way home. In fact, he looked angry, angrier than I had ever seen him. At one point, he stopped walking but he didn't speak. He just stood there staring at the ground.

  "What's wrong?" I asked. Mama was surely home by now and waiting for us.

  "Forget about them," he said, waving in the direction of the campers.

  "Who?"

  "Flora and Addison. Forget about them. Promise never, never to talk about what she showed you in her room or what she told you in the woods. It would be worse than sneaking a peek at the bear," he said. "You hear me, Jordan?"

  "Yes," I said. He was frightening me with his furious eyes firing up like hot coals.

  "Okay, good."

  "You're not going to be friends with her anymore?" I asked him as we continued.

  "I wasn't friends with her before," he said. "She was a curiosity. That's all."

  What did that mean? I was back in his dictionary, swimming aimlessly. "But you wanted her to talk to me, Ian. You told me."

  "I know what I told you. I thought she was going to help you understand your condition, explain the physiological aspects, what things to expect emotionally and psychologically, and not tell some lurid story instead. Imagine her keeping that thing in her dresser drawer, bringing it along on their trip. She's probably done using it and she wanted to give it to you," he muttered, more to himself than to me.

  He walked faster, so fast in fact. I had to run to keep up.

  "Why did she say I would become a butterfly and the medicine wouldn't stop me from knowing it?"

  He kept walking.

  "What did she mean, Ian?"

  "I told you to forget about her," he said, stopping. "I made a mistake about her. Forget about everything she said."

  It was easy for him to forget. I thought, but not for me.

  We walked on in silence.

  Mama was home when we arrived. She was getting ready to make us toasted cheese sandwiches. "Where were you two?" she demanded as soon as we entered the cabin. "I went back there and called for you as soon as I returned from the lake. I nearly got hoarse shouting at the woods."

  Ian glanced at me and then stepped forward
quickly, "We must have been just out of hearing range, Mother. I discovered some Sarrarenia purpurea" he told her.

  "What? Oh, never mind," she said, waving at us. "Just go wash up for lunch."

  "Where's Daddy?" I asked.

  "He's off with his boat buddies. I'm so glad he's come up here to spend some quality time with his family," she added dryly.

  Ian nudged me to follow him to the bathroom. "She's in a pretty bad mood," he said. "'Don't even suggest where we were or what we saw.."

  "Why is she in a bad mood? I thought she wanted to be here."

  He wiped his hands on the towel and looked at me with an expression on his face similar to the one Mama often had while she was deciding whether or not to tell me anything. I started tonwash my hands.

  "Our parents aren't exactly the loving couple they were when they first met," he said.

  "What does that mean, Ian?"

  "They argue a lot. Haven't you noticed?"

  Of course I had, but I didn't sit around thinking about it as much as Ian obviously did.

  "Our mother sees it as a case of false advertising," he said. "Promises were made and never realized. There's a lot of shattered glass around her, around them both, so tiptoe when you walk near them.

  "Where's shattered glass? Tiptoe? I don't understand you," I said. I was about to cry, too.

  "Don't worry about it," he said quickly. "It's not important at the moment. Just keep your mouth shut about you know what," he said, and left the bathroom.

  Mama had our sandwiches ready and made some chocolate milk, too. She put a bowl of fresh fruit on the table. Everything she did, she did fast and abruptly, nearly shattering the dishes and glasses when she placed them on the table, and nearly tearing off the faucets when she turned them on and off.

  "Aren't you eating any lunch, Mama?" I asked.

  She had her back to us and looked like she was mumbling to herself over the sink. She didn't answer. Ian shook his head at me and started to eat his sandwich. Mama paused and with her back to us, wiped her eyes. Then she turned around and smiled. It was like the sun coming out after a terrible dark rain.

  "What do you say we all go to the Claws 'n' Paws Wild Animal Park this afternoon? I'm sure you'll find it interesting, Ian. They have tigers and panthers, as well as giraffes, as well as all sorts of exotic birds. You can see black bears, too," she added.

  "That will be great," Ian said quickly. "I remember we were there once about five years ago. I'm sure Jordan doesn't remember any of it," he added, eyeing me.

  I shook my head.

  "Good. If the weather is nice. I thought we'd all go horseback riding tomorrow. I'll call and make a reservation for us. You'd like that, wouldn't you, Jordan?"

  "Yes, Mama."

  "Look at all the things we can do together,' she added. She sounded happy. but she looked like she was going to cry when she placed the pamphlets on the table. Besides the riding academy, there were descriptions of art galleries, museums, wildlife sanctuaries, an Audubon festival, and the Carousel Water and Fun Park.

  "Is Daddy going with us to the animal park?" I asked.

  "I wouldn't hold my breath," she said, and turned to the counter to pour herself a cup of coffee.

  She faced us while she sipped it, but she seemed to be looking through us. I looked at Ian. His eyes told me not to ask any more questions about Daddy.

  "We're going to have a good time here," she suddenly said. "Damn it, we're going to enjoy ourselves."

  She smiled at me again and then began to clean up the kitchen. Afterward, the three of us got into the car and headed for the animal park. Ian brought his camera. Daddy hadn't come back to the cabin. When I asked Mama if would know where we had gone, she said, "He'll figure it out somehow. ' Ian poked me and that was all we said about Daddy.

  There were wonderful exhibits at the animal park and we did enjoy ourselves. My favorites were the capuchin monkeys and the beautiful parrots. Ian was intrigued with the alligators and the snakes, especially the boa constrictor. He knew a lot about reptiles, even more than the guides, it seemed, and added information for us on our way home. I had the feeling he was talking continually to keep Mama from thinking about Daddy.

  I fully expected him to be watching television and waiting for us when we arrived, but he was nowhere in sight. Mama began to prepare our dinner. I helped her by peeling the potatoes and cooking the string beans. She was doing some chicken cutlets for us. She liked to cook and missed doing it after we went to live with Grandmother Emma. I set the table for four. The whole time Ian was in his room writing in his journal. As the clock ticked on. I kept waiting for Daddy to appear. I was afraid to ask about him, afraid it might start Mama crying. Finally, the phone rang and I could hear from the conversation that it was Daddy.

  "What do you expect me to do. Christopher, throw out all the food I've prepared? How was I supposed to read your mind from this distance when I can't when I'm right next to you?" she asked.

  She listened and sighed and shook her head and turned to me with her eyes big. "Okay, Christopher. Okay," she said in a tired voice. "I'll feed the children first."

  She hung up and returned to the kitchen, "Your father has made arrangements for me to join him and another couple for dinner at the Boat House," she said. And from the way he sounds, he wouldn't be able to make it back here for dinner anyway. Ian!" she shouted.

  He came out and she told him, too.

  "You two just stay in and around the cabin:"

  She served the chicken cutlets and then, while we were eating, went up to dress for dinner. I knew she hated rushing herself and wasn't happy about it. We were still eating when she came down.

  "Clean up the best you can," she told us. "I don't expect us to be late, but just in case, be sure you get to bed by ten, Jordan. See that she does, Ian."

  "No problem," he told her. "'Have a good time," She smirked, kissed us both, and left.

  Ian continued to tat quietly. Why wasn't he as upset as I was? I wondered.

  "I think Daddy drank too much again," I said.

  "Very likely," he said, nodding.

  "Mama was not happy."

  He continued to nod and then he said, "Shattered glass."

  We cleaned up the kitchen and put away our dishes. Afterward. Ian returned to his room and I watched television. I almost fell asleep on the sofa, but just before my eyes closed completely, I heard a tapping on the living room window. It took me a few moments to realize what it was. Flora was standing there and beckoning to me.

  I looked toward Ian's room to see if he heard, too, but he didn't appear. Flora beckoned harder and made a face. What did she want? I rose and then hesitated. Shouldn't I tell Ian? I wondered. She tapped again on the window. I went to the door and unlocked it and stepped out on the porch. She came around and looked up at me.

  "Where's Ian?" she asked.

  "He's in his room working," I said.

  "Working? What kind of work does he do?"

  "He does writing and reading and projects."

  "Your brother is a real character,'" she said. "I think he overreacted a bit in my room today."

  "No, he didn't," I said in defense of him, even though I wasn't quite sure what she meant.

  "Believe me, he did. But I understand why. Despite how smart he is, he's immature."

  "Ian's not immature!" I said.

  "Relax. It's not a crime to be immature. Does he have a girlfriend? Well?" she asked when I didn't reply.

  "No."

  "Did he ever have a girlfriend, go out on a date?" I shook my head.

  "See? He's sixteen and he hasn't been with a girl."

  I was about to say he was only thirteen, but I remembered he had said he told her he was sixteen, too.

  "What you and I have to talk about, he can't appreciate even though he's so brilliant, Jordan. He's a boy and we're girls and there are things boys just don't understand about girls and their problems and vice versa. I know you think you're too young for all that, but be
lieve me, you have had a period. You're not too young."

  "I gotta go back inside. My mother doesn't want me out here at night without Ian," I said.

  'Look. I didn't mean to scare you or anything. If you want to talk to me about yourself. I don't mind. You can find your way back to my camper without Ian. I'll tell you the things you should know about yourself,'" she added in a whisper.

  She looked behind me at the door. "I have to go inside," I repeated.

  "Go, but I'd advise you not to tell Ian what I just told you. Girls should have their privacy, you know, their own secrets. I don't tell my brother anything hardly. I never told him what I told you, for example, and I never will."

  I didn't think her brother would care anyway. I started to turn away and she reached out and seized my wrist.

  "All I'm saying, Jordan, is you need a girlfriend and I would be your girlfriend."

  I looked back at her and then to get her to let go, said, "Okay."

  She smiled and released my wrist. "I was just like you," she called to me as I stepped up to the porch. "Don't forget that. I can help you deal with your problems. You won't meet many girls like me. Your brother can read about precocious puberty and tell you stuff from books, but he didn't live it. I did and you are."

  She waved, turned on her flashlight, and started away. I watched until she disappeared into the shadows and was gone. Then I went back inside and turned the door latch closed. I expected Ian to be out of his room asking me why I had gone outside. Maybe he had heard Flora talking, I thought, but he hadn't come out of his room. I went to his doorway and looked in to set what he was doing. He was lying on his bed, still dressed in his clothes, but asleep. I thought about waking him up and telling him what had just happened, but I didn't do it.

  Instead. I went to my own room and thought about the things Flora had said. Maybe it was true about boys not understanding girl problems. Despite the way Ian had reacted to her story and what she had tried to give me. I couldn't help thinking about it all. And what about Ian? I never ever thought of him as immature, but it was true that he never had a girlfriend or from what I could tell, even a crush on a girl at school. He rarely if ever went to parties and if he did go, he always left early and claimed it was boring and stupid.