Chasing Butterflies Page 3

  “You say that like you’ve done it before.”

  She shrugged, and I was sure my eyes popped out of my head Looney Tunes style.

  “Why haven’t you told me? I thought you were my best friend.”

  She stepped back and glared at me. Then she folded her arms across her chest like I should know the answer to my own question. Finally, I said nothing and matched her stare.

  “You want to know why?” I nodded. “Because of how you’re acting now.”

  “How I’m acting? I feel like I don’t know you. And you’re keeping secrets. I would never judge you. You are the prettiest girl I know. I think you deserve a great guy. But I wouldn’t hold anything you did against you.”

  A few more seconds passed before she deflated. “Shit, I’m sorry.” She hugged me. “I should have told you, and I will. I’ll tell you tonight.”

  Tears stung the back of my eyes as I hugged her back. “We are such idiots.”

  She agreed. “I’ll be at your house tomorrow at eight to pick you up. And I’ll call you tonight and give you the details on how to give the best BJ ever.”

  I tried not to stiffen and managed to maintain a smile on my face. I went to the media center for lunch, wanting to avoid more sex talk with Debbie. What I didn’t expect was to see Trina sitting at one of the tables. She smiled at me, and I smiled back. I sat at a different table because it wasn’t like we were friends. She actually got up and came over.

  “Surprised to see the school slut in the library? Well, newsflash, I can read.”

  For the second time today I was being called out for judging people. I didn’t think I was that kind of person.

  “I’m sorry. I guess I was surprised to see you here.”

  She sat back in her seat and her eyebrow arched. “At least you’re honest. Most people in this godforsaken school aren’t. But I guess I brought it all on myself. I sleep with one guy who can’t keep his mouth shut and I’m labeled a slut. Go figure. But you know what, it’s freeing. I don’t give a shit what people think. I’ve slept with less guys than on one hand. But you think anyone cares that there are other more popular girls who have done it with more than they can count?”

  “It’s not fair.”

  Her shoulders lifted and fell before she let out a long string of air from her chest. “It’s high school. I can’t wait to get out of this place.”

  I smiled, finally feeling like someone agreed with me.

  “Me neither.”

  The light in her eyes danced as the corners of her mouth lifted. “So the girl going out with Ox, the fox, isn’t happy.”

  “Fox, that sounds like something my mom would say.”

  “Not as in hot, although he’s gorg. But he’s sly. You have to watch out for him.”

  I wasn’t sure what she meant by that. “Can I ask you something?”

  Her eyes narrowed. I plunged forward anyway. “What is it like to have…” I waved a hand around. “You know.”

  “Sex?”

  I nodded.

  “It can be really good with the right boy.”

  She didn’t elaborate, and I didn’t ask anymore. I didn’t know her all that well and didn’t think it was my place to pry.

  “I have to say, though, Lenora, if you don’t want to do it, don’t.”

  She glanced over my shoulder. I followed her line of sight and saw a guy in the grade ahead of us make a beeline in our direction.

  “And one more thing.”

  I frowned by her ominous statement, unsure as to what she was about to say.

  “Sometimes you shouldn’t trust your so-called friends.”

  With that, she left. Was she talking about Debbie or Ox? And what did I really know about Trina to trust her? She claimed not to be the slut everyone said she was, but she and that boy who had arrived went hand and hand deep into the stacks. I stared after them until they totally disappeared from sight.

  The next night, I stood staring at myself in the mirror. The yellow dress Debbie and I picked up during a shopping trip to Dallas did look really nice on me. It covered almost all of me with the halter style top but left most of my back exposed. The flirty skirt just barely passed mid-thigh. It was the kind of dress I didn’t think my parents would approve of. Mom, however, eagerly agreed it was the best choice. Dad hadn’t complained when he saw it either.

  Half of my hair had been pulled back in an updo with the other half cascading down my back. That and the makeup I’d put on, made me look older even though I didn’t feel it.

  Despite the rumors, Ox had been really sweet that first night at dinner. When our parents practically dared us to go out, I had. And it had been fun. He hadn’t been the boy I’d thought he was. He hadn’t tried for more than a quick kiss on my lips when the night was over. And in fact, we had a lot in common too. We liked the same movies. I happened to enjoy superheroes as much as romance. I blamed that on my dad. So it had been really easy to fall into being his girlfriend.

  There had been a few times we’d gotten hot and heavy. I’d even let him feel me up a time or two. He’d wanted me to touch him as well. I’d complied, more out of curiosity than anything else. I hadn’t let it progress to letting him put his hand under my shirt. Maybe I should let him tonight.

  “Lenora, come downstairs for pictures.”

  I rolled my eyes and trudged downstairs. Not finding my parents in the living room, I glanced around. Mom called from the kitchen, and I found them with a cake and candles.

  “You got me a cake?” It wasn’t as if they hadn’t done so every year, but things had changed. Even though Dad kept his job, he had suffered a pay cut. So I just didn’t expect it, not sure why.

  Mom smiled and nodded. “Make a wish.”

  The wish could have been for anything. But I found myself wishing for guidance. I wanted to know if Ox was the right guy for me. So I wished for butterflies. Mom had once explained that you knew if you really liked a guy when your subconscious sent signals that felt like butterflies in your tummy when you were with the right one.

  By the time Debbie arrived, I’d already opened my gift, which was an upgrade to my current cell phone. Dad changed my plan to include data. I could go online wherever I was.

  “Thanks, Daddy,” I said, throwing my arms around him.

  “You deserve it,” he whispered as Mom captured the moment with her camera.

  They waved as we left the house. And I had the feeling it was going to be awesome. Turning sixteen felt sweet.

  “This is going to be the best party ever,” Debbie announced when we were on our way.

  Ox’s house was lit up and the two-story dream house was no doubt full of people from school. I felt like a rock star when I walked in. Ox announced me like I was headlining a rock concert.

  “My girl’s in the house,” he yelled over the music, which was great. The best part came when later Ox revealed a huge birthday cake with sixteen candles and everyone sang to me. It felt surreal. When Ox told me to make a wish, I wished that the dream of my night wouldn’t ever end.

  “Where are we going?” I asked when he dragged me upstairs and away from everyone else.

  “Your present is in my room.”

  My stomach fluttered but not in a good way. Instantly, I was nervous. I wanted to be ready for the next step. It seemed like everyone was having sex, or so it had seemed while wadding through the gyrating people on the makeshift dance floor. As much as I wanted to be, I still wasn’t ready. And how could I tell him no after he’d thrown me the amazing party?

  The door closed with a click that sounded more like the trigger of a gun. I jumped, wrapping my arms around me, rubbing at the sudden chill. Muffled sounds came from downstairs, which meant no one would hear us. When he turned to face me, he had one arm behind his back. In majestic fashion, he whipped out in front of him a blue box with a white satin ribbon and bent on one knee. My jaw dropped.

  “What?”

  “Open it.”

  With shaky hands, I did as he asked
. We were only sixteen, I told myself. There was no need to be nervous. Maybe he didn’t want to tower over me as I opened the gift.

  Inside the box, I found a ring on a bed of felt. It sparkled like nothing I’d seen before.

  “I know we’re young. And it’s crazy. But I love you, Lenny. This isn’t an engagement ring, yet. It’s a promise that one day we’ll be together forever.”

  I had no words as he took the box from my nervous hand. Then he lifted the ring before slipping it on my finger.

  “Do you promise you’re mine?”

  My stomach was tied in knots. Was this the signal? I had no idea as he waited there, an anxious smile on his face. I found myself agreeing and his grin broadened to show teeth. He leaned forward and kissed me. When his lips met mine, I expected something more. It hadn’t happened yet. But surely, the first time a boy tells you he loves you it should be met with fireworks. Only none came.

  That rainy day of my brother’s funeral, I longed for sunglasses, but I didn’t own any. I’d gone to the party the night before and learned what my father found so interesting at the bottom of an empty bottle. Oblivion.

  I drank until my insides didn’t hurt. I drank, becoming the life of the party. I drank, not wanting the numbness to end. I drank until I woke up in a bed just as naked as the two girls on either side of me.

  A dried up condom clung to my dick like plaster, and I didn’t remember what the fuck I’d done. All I knew was that neither girl was the host of the party. I got up and made a beeline into a ginormous bathroom. I cleaned myself up, pulling off skin cells to free my limp dick from the spent rubber I flushed down the toilet. I dressed in record time, finding my clothes littered in different places on the floor. I didn’t bother finding the girl who should have been my ride. I hightailed it out of there and walked my ass home.

  By the time I made it home, Mom had carved a path in the worn carpet. Dad had shown his disapproval at me making Mom worry with a fist in my face. That was the main reason I’d wanted sunglasses that day.

  After, I was forced to clean my vomit off the floor with a stern warning to Mom by Dad to let me do it. Once I finished, we’d left in Dad’s truck for the show the army put on for lost soldiers. I sat next to the window as Mom laid her head on my shoulder. The bruise on my eye forgotten, it would be explained later with a made-up story about my teenage need to fight. I didn’t care what lies Dad told. My brother was gone, and I wouldn’t get him back.

  I hated my life, the one I was forced to live. My father took out his frustrations with life on Mom and me. And she loved him too much to leave him. If that was love, I wanted no part of it. It didn’t make sense that love should hurt so much. And losing my brother was proof.

  In death, Sandy was treated like a king, including a five-gun salute. I spent my time holding Mom up as she cried like the only person she ever loved had died. And maybe that was true. I hadn’t given her anything to be proud of in the last couple of years. I tended to get in trouble at school, using the pent-up anger I had and aimed it at others.

  It was business as usual when it was over. It seemed so unfair that the one person in the world I’d looked up to was gone. And why hadn’t the world stopped in pause? Why weren’t the streets littered with people outraged that one of the good ones had been ripped from this world while protecting them?

  Instead, Mom went to work that night, explaining bills still had to get paid. The only spending I saw was when we stopped at the liquor store to get Dad more beer on the way home.

  A part of me wanted to steal one from him and find that place where care no longer mattered. But I hadn’t liked losing part of my memory to the drunken haze. So I sat outside, away from my father’s line of sight.

  I sat on the back porch alone and dreamed of a life like those on TV, with a father who cared and wanted me to succeed. With a mother who didn’t work her ass off, but stayed at home to make warm meals. And a brother who wasn’t six feet under. I wanted just one day to live a normal life without fear, without going to bed hungry because it was better not to be seen. And going to the kitchen meant I might be fed a knuckle sandwich instead.

  In the days to come, Mom picked up a day shift as a waitress to make up for the loss of Sandy’s income. On a rare occasion I saw her, I pleaded my case.

  “Mom, I can get a job.”

  She cupped the side of my face. “No. Promise me you’ll finish high school no matter what.”

  There weren’t many things Mom asked of me, so I easily said, “Okay.”

  Then she forced my hand open. “What?”

  I felt the cool metal in my palm and realized she’d given me Sandy’s dog tags. “You should have these.” When I started to protest, she put a finger to my lips. “He would want you to have them.” I slipped the chain over my neck, and would wear them every day that would come after.

  Knowing he wore them made me feel close to him. And maybe somehow all the strength he possessed would leak into me. I missed him like crazy and didn’t want to spend the summer in my head. So, I found relief working construction.

  My coach hooked me up with it, and I’d been working my ass off with many side benefits. I was growing out of my scrawniness, picking up lean muscle with all the manual tasks, like lifting, I was given. Also, I was able to give Mom whatever she would take from my paycheck. More importantly, the time spent working meant less time thinking about my dead brother. Because he hadn’t been home in a while, I could pretend in my head he was still overseas, not buried in some cemetery.

  One afternoon, I’d gone to the deli down from my worksite to get lunch and met a cute redhead. I was sure she’d make a comment about my eyes, which was the norm for someone meeting me for the first time, but she asked about the dog tags around my neck.

  “Are you in the military or something?”

  “Or something.”

  There was no way I’d admit I would be in eleventh grade the coming year when she looked like she was in college. I wasn’t hard on the eyes, or so I’d been told, so my age might not have been a factor. In the short moments she’d talked, I learned she was visiting family in town, which explained why I’d never seen her before. We made plans, or rather I had plans to be inside her later on that day. My head was so far up the memories of her short skirt, I didn’t pay attention when I walked in the front door.

  “Where the hell have you been?”

  My head shot up, and I realized my mistake. I knew better than to enter the house at that time of day if Dad was home. I could already tell he was in that mean place, drunk but not quite enough for him to be passed out.

  “At work,” I said, knowing that nothing that came out of my mouth would be a good enough answer. However, experience had shown it would be better than no answer at all.

  “Working? You little shit. You probably had your head in pussy.”

  The best way to survive that encounter was to say nothing more unless he asked me another direct question. It was like a replay of a bad dream. I knew the script all too well.

  “You think you’re some Romeo. You better remember it’s my face you wear. Now go get me some beer money. I’m out.”

  I never forgot I was the spitting image of him. Sandy had taken after Mom, and God hated me. That’s why I looked like my father.

  “No.”

  The word came out softer than I meant it, but I’d said it. I’d earned that money for Mom, not for Dad to waste on getting drunk.

  “What did you say, you little fuck?”

  Dad jumped to his feet from his chair. By that point, we were about the same height and his eyes narrowed as he stalked closer. He staggered some, causing me to stand a little straighter with the knowledge that I might have a shot.

  He jabbed a finger in my face. “I said give me some goddamn money for beer, you little shit.”

  “No.”

  The air left my lungs after I dodged a right cross to the jaw and my punch caught him in the side. Only I missed his gut punch. I bent forward and had my
light snuffed with an uppercut to the face. I went down before I could take a swing. Only, he wasn’t done. A solid kick to my stomach and parting words to Get the fuck up, was how he finalized my humiliation. In that moment, I thought of a hundred different ways to kill my father. Slowly, I rolled to my side, not wanting to be kicked again. It took several tries before I found my feet and braced myself against the wall. Jail was the only thing that stopped me from acting on the many ways he could die that played out in my head.

  Sandy. I missed my brother with a soul aching pain that mirrored the physical one Dad left me with. I wiped at the tears that burned to unleash from my eyes. I wasn’t a pussy even though I felt like one. Why couldn’t I be bigger, strong, more intimidating so Dad wouldn’t use me for a punching bag. One day, I would make it out of the hell hole and take Mom with me.

  Somehow, I managed not to slam my bedroom door as I tossed myself on my bed. I lay there a few seconds before I could totally reclaim my breath. Then I stayed longer, adding up all the things I needed to make a break for it.

  There was only one thing on the list—money.

  According to the bills Dad often left around for Mom to find and pay, I needed much more than I had to make it on my own.

  A short time later, I heard Dad banging around in the kitchen in search for alcohol Mom might have hidden. It wouldn’t be long before he came looking for me again. I managed to roll off the bed without hurting too much. Then I lifted the mattress and found my duck-tapped baggy filled with my earnings still there. I let the bed back down and straightened the sheets so Dad wouldn’t think to check under there.

  Having experience with bruised ribs and pain in general, I didn’t have a lot of trouble moving around without grimacing in pain. I made my way over to the window and opened it. The humid wall of night air hit me as darkness rolled in while I’d been curled up in a ball on our living room floor. Somehow, I managed to climb out the window without causing myself more injury. I stumbled around to the back of the house, trying to figure out my next move. No way could I take my dad. I tried and failed before, which only resulted in a worse pummeling.