Sailor & Lula by Barry Gifford

the time I saw a blue heron walking next to a river. He looked like a Chinese gentleman in a blue coat wobbling along the rocks. He appeared extremely vulnerable and
defenseless, yet he was undoubtedly a survivor. That is our duty, Johnnie, as intelligent men, to survive.”
    Reggie raised his glass to Johnnie’s. “Hasta siempre,” he said.
    â€œHasta siempre,” said Johnnie.
    â€œDo you know how it came about that copper wire was invented in Scotland?” Reggie asked.
    â€œHow’s that?”
    â€œTwo Scotsmen were fighting over a penny.”
    Johnnie finished off his martini.
    â€œI got to admit, Reggie,” he said, sliding off the stool, “you’re one in a dozen.”

OLD NOISE
    â€œYou didn’t raise a fool, Marietta. Lula got too much Pace in her to throw her life away on trash. My guess is she’s havin’ herself a time, is all.”
    Marietta and Dalceda Delahoussaye were sitting on the side porch of Marietta’s house drinking Martini & Rossi sweet vermouth over crushed ice with a lemon slice. Dalceda had been best friends with Marietta for close to thirty years, ever since they boarded together at Miss Cook’s School in Beaufort. They’d never lived further apart in that period than a ten-minute walk.
    â€œRemember Vernon Landis? The man owned a Hispano-Suiza he kept in Royce Womble’s garage all those years before he sold it for twenty-five thousand dollars to the movie company in Wilmington? His wife, Althea, ran off with a wholesale butcher from Hayti, Missouri. The man gave her a diamond ring big enough to stuff a turkey and guess what? She was back with Vernon in six weeks.”
    â€œDal? Just what, you tell me, has Althea Landis’s inability to control herself have to do with my baby Lula’s bein’ stole by this awful demented man?”
    â€œMarietta! Sailor Ripley prob’ly ain’t no more or less demented than anyone we know.”
    â€œOh, Dal, he’s lowlife. He’s what we been avoidin’ all our lives, and now my only child’s at his mercy.”
    â€œYou always been one to panic, Marietta. When Enos Dodge didn’t ask you right off to go with him to the Beau Regard Country Club cotillion in 1959, you panicked. Threatened to kill yourself or accept an invitation from Biff Bethune. And what happened? Enos Dodge’d been in Fayetteville with his daddy and asked you soon as he got back two days later. This ain’t a moment to panic, lovey. You’re gonna have to quit spittin’ and ride it on out.”
    â€œYou’re always such a comfort to me, Dal.”
    â€œI give you what you need, is all. A talkin’-to.”
    â€œWhat I need is Lula safe at home.”
    â€œSafe? Safe? Ain’t that a stitch! Ain’t nobody nowhere never been safe a second of their life.”

    Dalceda drained the last drop of vermouth from her glass.
    â€œYou got any more of this red vinegar in the house?” she asked.
    Marietta rose and went into the pantry and came out carrying a sealed bottle. She unscrewed the cap and poured Dalceda a drink and freshened her own before sitting back down.
    â€œAnd what about you?” said Dalceda.
    â€œWhat about me?”
    â€œWhen’s the last time you been out with a man? Let alone been to bed with one.”
    Marietta clucked her tongue twice before answering.
    â€œI plain ain’t interested,” she said, and took a long sip from her glass. Dalceda laughed. “What was it you used to tell me about how Clyde carried on when you and him made love? About his gruntin’ that come from way down inside sounded so ancient? Old noise, you called it. Told me you felt like you was bein’ devoured by a unstoppable beast, and it was the most thrillin’ thing ever happened to you.”
    â€œDal, I swear I hate talkin’ to you. You remember too much.”
    â€œHate hearin’ the truth is what it is.