The Jade Butterfly

by Dawn Gardner

  “Frank, are you here?” Joni called out. There was no answer. Joni opened the door from the office to the garage. It was hung on something. Joni pushed with her whole body and was able to get the door open just enough to squeeze through. It was dark, so she reached for the work bench light. She flipped the switch. Frank was propped up against the backside of the door. There was a half-full bottle of Jack Daniels beside him.

  “Frank,” Joni shook his shoulders. “Are you okay? Frank?” Frank woke up and looked at Joni and tears started to flow down his cheeks.

  “He’s gone, Joni. They took my boy. Took him. And for what.” Frank looked for the bottle and brought it to his lips, but didn’t drink. He put the bottle down and grabbed Joni into his arms and cried even harder.

  Joni hugged him and then pulled away. “Frank, what are you talking about, are you talking about Jack?” Frank nodded his head and pointed to a piece of paper that lay on the garage floor a few feet away.

  Joni picked up the paper, the word Telegram was in bold on the top right hand corner.

  PURSUANT TO THE PROVISIONS OF THE SECTION 555, TITLE 37, UNITED STATES CODE, UPON THE DIRECTION AND DELEGATION OF THE SECRETARY OF THE ARMY, THE CHIEF, CASUALTY DIVISION, OFFICE OF THE ADJUTANT GENERAL, FINDS YOUR SON, PRIVATE FIRST CLASS JACK ANDREWS TO BE DEAD. HE WAS OFFICIALLY REPORTED MISSING IN ACTION AS OF THE TWENTY SEVENTH DAY OF SEPTEMBER OF 1972. FOR THE PURPOSE STATED IN SAID SECTION, DEATH IS PRESUMED TO HAVE OCCURRED ON THE TWENTY SEVENTH DAY OF SEPTEMBER OF 1972. PLEASE ACCEPT MY DEEPEST SYMPATHY….

  Joni read the word dead again and again. “No, this is wrong Frank. Wrong.”

  “Joni, they came here and gave me this. There was some explosion and Jack was in it. I can’t remember what they said now, but it’s true, Joni. Jack’s gone. He’s gone.” Frank hung his head.

  Joni’s body begin to shake. And she screamed at Frank, “He’s not dead.” Joni ran outside to the cold air and fell down on the ground outside her car. Frank followed her outside, “Joni!”

  “He’s not dead Frank,” she screamed again. Joni opened her car door and screamed into the sky, “He’s NOT dead.” She slammed the door and drove away.

  Joni arrived at her home and didn’t remember driving there. She sat in her car and the tears came. Joni couldn’t breathe, she stepped out of her car and threw up. She went into the house, crawled into her bed, clutched her jade butterfly and fell asleep. Joni awoke a few hours later, it was a bad dream, she said to herself. As Joni walked to the kitchen, she realized she had forgotten to check the mailbox when she got home. She ran out the door and there in the box was a letter from Jack. She knew he wasn’t dead. She opened the envelope as quickly as she could without ripping it. In her bare feet, she stood by the mailbox and read the letter.

  August 1, 1972

  Joni,

  I got 5 of your letters yesterday. I can’t wait to marry you, it’s what I live for here. Don’t stop writing me so much, the guys make fun of me for getting so many letters. I think they are just jealous. I don’t care. And when I show them your photo, well, they are even more jealous. I miss you so much. I hope you never have to see what I’ve seen.

  We were digging foxholes yesterday and it was my turn to come out and stand guard. A group of VC came at us. There was 6 of them and two of us. They shot my buddy, so I fired back. Joni for as long as I live I will never forget the face of that man clutching his chest. I keep waking up at night and seeing his face. I made it back to the foxhole with my buddy’s body, not sure if I killed anyone else. I just put my gun on automatic and fired. We are moving again, seems like we are always walking and digging. I wish they’d hurry up and end this hell.

  All my Love, Jack

  Joni stood at the mailbox. As if in a trance, she went inside and got her water bowls and brushes ready. The next two hours Joni’s brush moved across the rice paper. When she stepped back to look at her work, the grey and black roses filled her canvas. Her mind went to Jack in a jungle being shot or his body being blown up. She tried to stop the images from flooding her mind, but they kept coming. Joni saturated her brush with black ink. The brush dripped paint as she brought it over the artwork. She flicked the brush at her work, scattering black ink all over the art she had just created. She put the brush down, walked out of the room and shut the door, crawled into bed and closed her eyes.

  Chapter 16

  It had been about three and half weeks since Kim had left. Ellen’s divorce papers had arrived and actually this had made her happy, happier than she thought it would. She had then forwarded them on to her attorney to look over. Danny had called to ask about Joni and she broke the news to him about the ending of his parents’ marriage. He didn’t seem surprised. Danny had just said for Ellen to do what made her happy. At the present moment, she wasn’t exactly sure what that was. She’d start a search for jobs and then go down a rabbit hole of research about Alzheimer’s. Ted had been over a few more times for dinner after school. One night he had brought a classic movie, The Inn of Sixth Happiness. The movie was based on a true story of a British woman becoming a missionary and going to China. Ellen was touched at the thoughtful gesture. Ingrid Bergman was amazing, but at the two hour mark Joni fell asleep and there was still another forty minutes to go. Ellen had started to notice a pattern with Joni, she was not as clear in the afternoons and evenings. In fact, Ellen had stopped asking about Jack or anything else that could trigger her mother during these times.

  This Wednesday morning, Ted was taking them on an adventure. The school was closed for a repair to an HVAC unit that couldn’t be fixed outside of school hours. The adventure started early because a drive was involved. Ted wouldn’t give any details on the surprise trip, only that Joni was going to love it. And he had hoped Ellen would too. Ted arrived with coffee for all three of them.

  As they rode through the mountains, Joni kept asking about the parkway. Ellen promised that they’d go soon. Ted even suggested this weekend because it would probably be the last weekend before all the leaves were off the trees. After they were on interstate 81, Joni stopped asking for the parkway. Soon after they exited the interstate, they weaved their way to the campus of Washington and Lee University.

  Ted parked the car, and Ellen teased, “Oh, the teacher can’t stay away from school even on his day off.” He smiled. The air was brisk and the three of them moved quickly up the path to the main building.

  “I know this place!” Joni said.

  “Really?” Ellen studied the elegance of the building. The white columns were breathtaking and contrasted against the red brick; it was a stunning combination. The cupola on the top of the center building was elegant and classic.

  “Yes! I have been here. I’m trying to remember.” Joni was agitated.

  “Don’t worry Mom, you’ll remember. It’s such a beautifully elegant building.” Ellen said.

  “Yes, it is. It was built in 1824, well, this portion was, Washington Hall. They modeled the rest of the buildings in this classical style. Do you see George on the top Joni?” Ted pointed to the statue of George Washington that was nestled inside the cupola. They strolled around the grounds, Joni and Ted walked ahead. Joni was tall for a woman, but Ted stood above her a good foot. He engaged Joni by pointing out different parts of the architecture to her. Ellen enjoyed Ted’s love of learning, but also his love of teaching. Ellen watched his jacket pull tight across his upper back each time he’d pointed to something for Joni to look at. Then her gaze, traveled down to his bottom and then she imagined kissing him again.

  “What are you doing back there Ellen?” Ted said. Ellen’s face flushed.

  “Okay ladies, it’s a bit chillier than I had hoped. Back to the car, and just a short drive to our destination. I just couldn’t come here and not show you this building.”

  Ted parked the car in the parking lot for Lenfest Center for the Arts. They quickly entered the building and found their way to Staniar Gallery on the second floor. Ted pointed to a sign on an easel.

 
Journey Home, An Exhibition of Paintings by Washington and Lee Professor Emeritus of Art I-Hsiung Ju — “A Chinese artist is not only a painter, but also a poet and a philosopher.”

  “Joni, it’s an exhibition that features the Yangtze River and the Huangshan Mountain. I know how excited you got the other night when we were watching the movie and when they showed the river.”

  Ellen smiled. This man was melting her heart. She reached her hand down and found his hand and squeezed.

  Joni went to the first painting and stood about ten feet away. Ellen followed her. The grayscale painting was on four panels that hung together. Mountains jutted out of low hanging fog, trees grew from the spaces between the rocks and a small rock bridge arched over a small stream. Tears flowed from Joni’s eyes. It was not sadness, but joy. She was smiling and clutching her chest.

  Ted looked worried, but Ellen assured him with a light squeeze of his arm that the tears were a good thing.

  “Do you see how small the people are in this painting?” Joni asked and pointed to the people on the bridge, but didn’t take her eyes away from the artwork.

  “Yes.” Ted and Ellen answered together.

  “This is about the vastness of life. We are small and here to learn and love. See, they are crossing the bridge, moving to another level of knowing.” Joni wiped her eyes. “Oh, the beauty of the fog that hangs on these mountains, he is a master. He used to say, ‘Don’t worry so much about the paintings, worry about the movements because the painting is a dance’.”

  Ellen had never heard her mother speak in these terms before. Her mind replayed her mother’s last sentence.

  “Are you quoting the artist mom?”

  “If you can paint a rock, you can paint a mountain,” Joni said and moved herself in front of the next painting.

  Joni didn’t speak again throughout the rest of the exhibit. Ellen could tell she was enjoying herself, but by the end of the exhibit, Joni was drained. They walked to a nearby cafe and ate a light lunch.

  “I thought we would go see Natural Bridge.” Ted said as he asked for the check.

  “Let me get our lunch, Ted.”

  “No, I got it.”

  “I think we’d better head back. Afternoons and evenings can be tough sometimes. I think we should maybe do that this weekend?”

  The drive home was short. Joni slept and Ted and Ellen talked about the artwork. It was interesting to talk with a man on such interesting topics. She told Ted the artwork was incredible, but she was moved more by the passion and awe of her mother toward the painting and his gesture of taking them there. The car pulled into the driveway, and Joni woke up.

  “Thank you so much Ted for a lovely surprise.” Ellen said, hoping that Joni would say thank you. Joni got out of the car and slammed the door and headed toward the house. Ellen could tell the rest of the afternoon was going to be rough.

  “You are welcome, bye Joni,” He called out to Joni who was already pulling on the front door to get into the house. Ted grabbed Ellen’s hand before she stepped out of the car, “I’ll bring dinner over? I have some papers to grade at the house, how about six?”

  Ellen stepped out of the car and walked to the house. She turned back to Ted, “Okay, but you’ll enter at your own risk.” She motioned her head toward Joni.

  “I’ll take my chances.” Ted said.

  When they got into the house, Joni was angry and agitated. Ellen knew what Joni needed to calm her. In the last few weeks, Ellen had established a routine of afternoon tea and light television watching. She could anticipate her mother a bit, and this made Ellen feel somewhat proud of herself. She wasn’t going to win any awards for caregiver of the year, but she was doing better than she ever thought she could. Every few days, she’d send Kim updates via text. Sometimes she responded, sometimes she didn’t. Ellen couldn’t remember Kim’s schedule, but it included countries like Peru, Chile, Brazil and Venezuela. Ellen truthfully hoped Kim was having the time of her life.

  Ellen settled her mother into the sunroom with some tea, Miss Morris and her afternoon shows. The living room painting had been finished about three days ago. Joni had helped and was satisfied with the eggshell white color. Ellen rolled up the plastic, moved the paint cans and the plastic to the basement and pushed the furniture back in place. As she moved the sofa, she felt a bead of sweat run down the middle of her back. Four weeks ago, she probably wouldn’t have had the energy to move or clean after being out in the morning. The walking with her mother was good for her body and her mind. Ellen stepped into the kitchen and made another pot of tea. She walked into the sunroom, and refreshed her mother’s tea.

  “I’m going to read in the living room.” Ellen said and went over to check the sunroom door to make sure it was locked. She walked over to the papasan chair and gave the cat a pet behind the ears. “Do you need anything?” Joni shook her head no and then blew on her hot tea.

  Ellen settled in to the big cushioned white sofa with a book on her lap. As she sipped her tea, she gazed out the window. Her mind went the relationship of her mother and father. When she was a little girl, she remembered him coming home from work, racing to hug his legs in the kitchen. Ellen racked her brain trying to remember the exchange between her mother and father at the end of the day. She didn’t have a memory of it.

  Jack. She was still nowhere in finding anything more about him. What details did she have? China, Jack and was there anything else? Ping pong. On a whim, she pulled out her phone and goggled the three things. The first result was an article about Ping Pong Diplomacy 1971 and next an article about Jack Howard the captain of that team. Could it be? Ellen then searched for a listing of all the names of the American Ping Pong team members. Sixteen players in all. And as luck would have it, two Jacks. Jack Howard, 36 and Jack Andrews, 19. Ellen figured out her mother’s age in 1971. 21. Her mother would have just turned 21 in December of 1970. Ellen was betting that the Jack she wanted to focus on would be Jack Andrews, but she wasn’t ruling anyone out just yet. There were articles about Jack Howard visiting China for the 35th anniversary of their peacemaking trip. Ellen tried Jack Andrews into the search bar. Links came up, but none were relevant to the Jack Andrews she was looking for.

  There was a rapping on bay window. Ellen startled, looking up to see Ted’s smiling face. She looked at the time on her phone. It was dinnertime. Ted held up a bag from the Chinese restaurant.

  “Hey there! I’ve got dinner. ” Ted set his messenger bag down inside the living room. “I have a couple more papers to go, but I didn’t want to be late to bring two beautiful ladies their dinner, so after we eat I’m going to knock those out. You were looking pretty intensely at your phone. Everything okay?”

  “Yep, I’ll tell you later about what I found. Thanks for dinner, Chinese, you’re so clever.”

  “Mom, Ted is here with dinner. Are you hungry?”

  Ellen brought plates and silverware to the table in the sunroom. Ted opened up the bag and placed the individual boxes out on the table.

  “I just ordered a variety, wasn’t sure what you ladies liked.” Ted said. Joni came to the table and sat down.

  “Joni, would you like lo mein?” Ted asked.

  “Who are you? And how does Ellen know you?” Joni said.

  “Um, I’m Ted your neighbor from down the street.” Ted looked at Ellen.

  “You’re sexy. You remind me of him,” Joni said. Ellen cringed, she hoped that Joni wasn’t going to ask to have her breasts touched. Ellen decided to try the redirect method, she had read about.

  Before Ted could respond Ellen said, “Mom, would you like lo mein or fried rice?”

  “I’ll take the fried rice.” Joni said.

  “Good, more lo mein for me,” Ted joked. Joni just stared at Ted.

  “I really enjoyed those paintings today. I don’t know much about Chinese art.” Ellen said.

  “Me either. I found the exhibit through the art teacher at the school.”

  Joni said nothing and moved her fork
along the rice. Ted lifted the bag off the table, realizing the fortune cookies were still in the bottom of the bag, he dumped them on the table. “Can’t forget about our fortunes.”

  Joni grabbed all of the cookies, pushed her plate away and left the table. Ellen followed her up the hallway and to her bedroom. As Ellen got closer, Joni walked faster. Joni got into her bedroom and slammed the door.

  “You’re not taking these cookies Ellen.”

  “We didn’t want any of them anyway.” Ellen said. She leaned against the wall outside her mother’s door and laughed to herself. This must be what having a teenage daughter is like. Then loud Chinese guitar music burst from her mother’s CD player in her room. Ellen walked down to the front door, took the keys out of her pocket and locked the front door. Ellen mumbled to herself, take that Houdini.

  “Well, sorry to say there will be no fortunes for you and me. They are currently being devoured by a teenage girl trapped in a sixty-nine year-old body.” Ellen said to Ted.

  “That’s okay. We have the wine.” Ted held up a bottle of pinot noir and grinned.

  “Let me get the glasses.” Ellen turned and went back into the kitchen, coming back with two wine glasses.

  Ellen and Ted finished dinner, cleaned up and sat together on the sofa. They were in the middle of the second glass of wine.

  “Tell me what had you so entranced on your phone.” Ted asked.

  “Oh, so, remember that time at dinner my Mom mentioned ping pong. So I googled China, Jack and ping pong and came up with this.” Ellen reopened the link and handed her phone to Ted.

  “Wow, I remember this. Do you think that one of these guys could be her Jack?”

  “I don’t know. I can’t find out anything about Jack Andrews.”

  “My sister used to work as an investigator, she’s pretty good at finding people. If you want, I could ask her.”

  “That would be great. I’m not sure where this would lead, but I don’t know. It might be a good thing.” Ellen took a sip of wine. “You know, I don’t know much about you. Tell me about your sister, your family?”