Chase The Butterflies

by Monica James

  “Watch out!”

  I wake with a start.

  Jolting upright, it takes a second for my sleep-clogged brain to realize where I am. I’m in my bedroom in my new home. I’m no longer in that dark alleyway, a pain so sharp tearing through my chest cavity as a bullet rips through my flesh, shattering bone.

  The darkness pooling in from the open window reveals it’s late. Revisiting my last memory, because the nightmare is too much to face, I smile, because it was of me saying goodbye to Angus. I asked if he wanted me to walk him home, or take him over to the Sands, but he shook his head. He jumped onto his bike and rode off down the road.

  I have no idea why he was in my yard flying his kite in the first place, but I told him he’s welcome back anytime, and I meant it. I’ve made my first real friend, someone who has changed my entire outlook on life. Moments before, I was sinking to the bottom of the lake with no real desire to surface ever again. But spending the day with Angus made me appreciate life because I should be thankful for all I have.

  My stomach grumbles, something which doesn’t happen often. Stretching, I rise from my bed, not as sore as I thought I would be. I have a skip to my step as I bounce down the stairs, wondering if I have any more food in the house.

  Just as I walk down the hallway, I hear a light scratching on the front door. Turning my head, I pause, unsure if I heard the noise or not, and wait a few seconds. When it sounds again, I yelp, terrified someone is trying to break in.

  No one stands before the frosted glass panel on the front door, but I’m certain the noise is coming from my porch. The moon is full and bright, not exactly an ideal night to be committing a crime, so with that thought in mind, I tiptoe to the front door, determined to stop living in darkness. If I’m going to do this starting over thing, then I need to learn how to depend on myself. I reach for a lava lamp, left behind by the previous owners for obvious reasons.

  I continue my slither toward the door, taking a deep breath when I reach it. Bracing the brass handle, I count to three before yanking open the door, lava lamp in hand. Adrenaline soars through me, and I bellow like Zena the Warrior Princess.

  My war cry is completely pointless because no one is there. Looking from left to right, I see that the coast is clear and feel utterly absurd, so I lower the lamp. However, just as I let my guard down, something furry brushes against my leg. I scream bloody murder and jump so far backward I topple into the door and land straight on my ass. Scrambling backward, I’m about to toss the now useful lamp at whatever critter is about to eat me, but stop when I see two emerald eyes watching me closely.

  When my brain stops imagining that I’m on the set of Supernatural, I squint and see those enormous emerald eyes belong to a gray tabby cat. He saunters into my home, none the wiser that I was seconds away from having a damn heart attack.

  “Is everything all right?” I yelp again when Jude comes barreling up my porch stairs and storms into my living room. He looks ready to pounce on anything that stands in the way. However, when he peers down at me, he cocks an amused dark brow. “What are you doing?”

  “I think I should be the one asking you that. You lingering around my home is getting rather creepy,” I taunt, unable to wipe the smile from my face as I lower the lamp. This entire situation is ridiculous.

  “I was hardly lingering,” he defends, scoffing playfully.

  “What were you doing then?”

  He opens his mouth but quickly closes it. Now I’m the one to raise my eyebrow. Has he inadvertently admitted to lurking? I don’t know whether to be creeped out or flattered.

  The cat works his magic on Jude and rubs against his legs, purring like a lawn mower. He looks down, smirking. “This is the reason for you screaming down the neighborhood?”

  “I didn’t scream,” I reply, pulling a face at his dramatics.

  “My perforated eardrums beg to differ.”

  I roll my eyes but can’t stop the smile from spreading cheek to cheek.

  Realizing I’m still sprawled out on the floor, I attempt to lift myself up, but Jude quickly swoops forward and offers me his hand. I look at it. He appears puzzled by my hesitation, which has me kicking my butt for being so suspicious.

  Jude has been nothing but nice to me. He has every right not to even bother being neighborly after the way I’ve treated him. But here he is, saving the day once again. This time, however, I don’t mind.

  “Thanks.” The moment I slip my hand into his, my entire being is set alight—and not just physically either. My whimsical mind conjures up a scenario of Jude and me meeting in a different lifetime. I’m just a normal girl with no baggage and no problems who just wants to belong to someone who likes me for me. And Jude does. We take long walks along the lake’s edge, watching our brown-haired, blue-eyed children running in the summer sun as we reminisce on our life and how perfect things are.

  Jude tells me that he loves me each morning and kisses me on the forehead before he leaves for work. I then go about my daily chores being a wife and mom—my dream come true.

  But that’s not my life.

  My life is nothing like that.

  I haven’t given up on finding true love, but my eyes have been opened, and sadly, reality has ruined the magic.

  Returning to the here and now, I stand, thankful my two feet hold me up. My hand sits snuggled in Jude’s, resting low between us as we stand inches apart. He makes no secret that he’s watching me closely, and funnily enough, I do the same.

  He really is remarkable to look at, but there is something more to him than just a pretty face. He has depth, substance, and the constant sadness buried deep within those blue eyes reveals he’s something…more.

  He knows my story, and I suddenly want to know his.

  “Would you like some coffee?”

  Jude drops my hand, not hiding his surprise at my sudden hospitality. I hold my breath, not knowing how he’ll respond. I let it out when he accepts. “Sure.”

  Ignoring the unexpected fluttering within my stomach, I turn the hallway light on and make my way into the kitchen. Jude’s boots sound along the floorboards as he follows.

  “Do you have any milk?”

  Spinning around, I can’t help but coo when I see the cat snuggled in Jude’s large hands.

  “Sure. There should be some in the fridge.”

  Jude nods and walks over to it. He pulls on the handle, expecting the refrigerator to open because that’s what most fridges do. But mine doesn’t open without a tug of war. I watch on, hiding my smirk, as he attempts to battle the old steel block, but back in her day, they made them to last. I’m almost certain she could be used for a bomb shelter.

  After four attempts, he finally pries the door open. I bite my lip to stop my smile. My smile dies, however, when he sees the measly contents of my fridge. Half a carton of milk, a jar of jelly, and an apple are all that sits before him. In my defense, Angus was one hungry boy.

  Now that I can think straight, I realize this is the first time Jude has seen inside my depleted home. It looks better from the outside, but that’s not saying much, seeing as the outside looks like it’s ready for demolition. He doesn’t make a fuss, though, and simply closes the fridge, cat and milk in hand.

  After washing out the new crockery set I purchased from the thrift store, I pass Jude a saucer. We work in silence, moving about my small kitchen in sync. He pours a splash of milk on it, then places the cat and his supper in the corner of the room.

  “What are you going to call him?” Jude asks, breaking the silence.

  With my eyes still focused on the little fur ball, I grin. “He reminds me so much of the cat I had back home. He too had big green eyes and a little fat belly.” As if on cue, the cat’s tail shakes excitedly.

  Jude smirks, a dimple hugging his whiskered cheek. “What was his name?”

  “Jäg.”

  Jude can’t contain his laughter. “After Jägermeister?”

  I bite my lip. “Yes, he even had an orange collar.�
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  “Then Jäg it is.”

  Silence fills the room once again.

  The stillness isn’t uncomfortable, it’s merely pensive. I can’t help but wonder what Jude is thinking. He answers my query a moment later.

  “So, I couldn’t help but notice a few things around your home needed fixing up.” He rubs the back of his neck, appearing concerned he’s overstepped a line.

  I don’t take offense to his comment because it’s the truth. “That they do. I’ll get to it eventually.”

  “I would be more than happy to help. I’m good with my hands.”

  I choke on air. Thumping on my chest, I wheeze, “It’s fine.”

  He stubbornly shakes his head. “Write out a list, and I’d be happy to help. What are neighbors for?” he adds.

  I nod in response as I’m still finding it hard to breathe.

  My mind races with so many questions, but I don’t want to be rude or overstep any personal boundaries. But I need to know more about him.

  “So when you’re not offering to help your neighbors, what do you do?”

  He smirks. “For the record, I only offer to help the ones I like.”

  “Well, I’m glad you like me.” I bite the inside of my cheek, realizing how that comment could be misconstrued.

  But Jude’s gruff laughter makes me relax. “I work in town.” I look at him, waiting for him to elaborate since that comment is as vague as they come. “I’m a jack-of-all-trades.”

  And the ambiguity continues.

  Moving my mouth from side to side, I don’t know if he’s being evasive on purpose or just being a typical male. “Jack-of-all-trades is rather broad. Care to be a little more specific?” I smirk, keeping my tone light.

  He mounts the barstool and rests his forearms on the counter, leaning forward. “If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you.”

  I gulp.

  A threat has never sounded so promising.

  “Ah c’mon, you know all my secrets. It’s now my turn to know yours.” I hope I sound confident because I’m currently a bundle of nerves.

  He reads my determination and smiles. “Growing up in this town, you’ve got one of two options.” He holds up one finger. “You can either make something of yourself by leaving.” He then raises another. “Or you can stay here and watch your life pass you by because you don’t know any better.”

  I can’t help but pry. “But you’re still here, and you seem to know better.”

  “The fact that I’m still here shows you that I don’t,” he gently argues.

  I ponder on his comment. It appears he doesn’t want to be here, so why does he stay? There must be a reason he doesn’t leave. What’s holding him here?

  I don’t have time to ask what or whom.

  “Growing up, my mom told me I was special. That I would amount to something. She said I was destined for big things.” He appears to be lost in the past.

  “Well, they do say mothers know best,” I encourage.

  His lips tilt into a bittersweet smile. “They also say parents are blind to their children’s faults.”

  Thinking to how my mother behaved when I told her about Matilda and Bryan—and the fact it took her a week to believe me—has his comment ringing true.

  The sorrow must reflect on my face because the mood suddenly turns still.

  “Can I ask you a question?”

  Meeting his eyes, I nod. “Sure.”

  He hesitates before he inquires, “What happened on the night you got shot?”

  The sound of the kettle blaring reflects my inner scream.

  My face instantly drops as that was the last question I thought he’d ask. “Shit, I’m sorry,” he quickly apologizes, scrunching up his face. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have asked. Never mind.”

  His sincere regret has me shaking my head. “No, it’s fine. I’m happy to talk about it.” I suddenly realize that I am okay to discuss this.

  Needing some caffeine before I make my confession, I quickly prepare us some coffee. Jude sips his while I gaze into the blackness of my mug and lose myself in the past. “Bryan and I were out celebrating my birthday. I was so happy back then, so in love with my fiancé who could do no wrong. I was an idiot.

  “Bryan proposed. After ten years of dating, he finally decided to make an honest woman out of me. After celebrating right there on the sidewalk, we walked to our car. I ran into a man.” I take a deep breath. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. I was twenty-seven, fit, healthy, and on top of the world.”

  Jude reaches across the counter and squeezes my fingers, encouraging me to continue.

  “He asked for our keys, and I thought that was it. But he was playing with us, taunting us because what he really wanted was to hurt me. He dragged me into an alleyway. He had a gun. I thought he was going to r-rape me, but when he reached for my ring, as if taking my integrity wasn’t enough, I snapped.

  “I fought him, fought harder than I had ever before. Then…” My palms begin to sweat as I wipe them on my jeans. “Then I saw a man. I couldn’t make out his face. It was dark. But he was running to my rescue while Bryan was straggling behind. I understand he was in shock and terrified by what he saw, but I was, too. I expected Bryan not to let it get that far. Stupid, right? The man had a gun. But I felt safer with my rescuer than I did with Bryan. A complete stranger was running to my aid while my fiancé looked moments away from running in the opposite direction. He was supposed to protect me.”

  I sniff.

  Jude runs his thumb over my knuckles. “Did you see who the man was?”

  “No,” I whisper, looking down at my bare feet. “But every night, I know he’s in my dreams…I just can’t see who he is. I only remember bits and pieces, but I feel safe.”

  We’re silent, and Jude most likely wishes he’d kept his mouth shut.

  “I got shot. Two bullets were fired. One tore through my chest, and the other was a stray. The doctors said I was lucky, that I was a fighter, but I don’t feel like either.” I rub my temple, squeezing my eyes shut. “I thought there is no way something so small could cause me such great harm. But that’s the thing about a wound—it’s not about what you can see, it’s about what you can’t see that hurts you the most.

  “With all the bandaging, I still felt the same. But when the bandages unraveled, I saw I wasn’t the same.” Tears fall down my cheeks, the betrayal still so raw. “Bryan was repulsed by me. I could see it every time he looked at me. For the first few months, I couldn’t taste, feel, smell. Love. I felt dead inside. Bryan stayed away, treating me like a leper. That’s why he cheated on me with my sister. Because…I’m incomplete. I’m nothing.” I’m sobbing by this stage, unable to see anything but my watery regrets. The tears are streaming down my face, the betrayal still so real.

  “Victoria. I’m so sorry.” Jude clenches my fingers, the weight comforting. “You’re wrong. You’re everything. You’re so much and more. He’s a goddamn coward.”

  His words only make me cry harder.

  “I’m sorry I’ve made you cry.” His apology is filled with nothing but pain and regret.

  His warmth touches me. Wiping the tears from my eyes, I shake my head. “You didn’t.”

  His jaw clenches as he spits, “I’m so sorry you went through that.” I can see he has one final question to ask. “And the man? Did you ever find out who he was?”

  “No,” I whisper, “but I wish I did. I’d throw my arms around him and thank him for saving my life.”

  “Do you want to remember?” he asks apprehensively.

  “Remember?”

  He nods. “Yes, that night. There are holes in your memory for a reason.”

  I begin to tremble. “I’ve got PTSD. It’s normal.”

  Jude doesn’t look convinced. “The answers are right there at your fingertips…” He brushes his finger along mine. “You just have to let them in.”

  I don’t know what that means, but I allow him to comfort me because it feels nice to let my
guard down.

  “How about we finish our coffee another night?” he suggests, his thumb rubbing wide circles over my inner wrist.

  “Sorry for being such a mess. I promise I’ll pull it together and have a normal conversation with you one day.”

  Jude smiles, and the sight warms my heart. “This is the most normal I’ve had all day.”

  I can’t help but smile also. “Me too.”

  Jäg weaves himself between my legs, purring loudly. The sound soothes me. Bending to pick him up, I meet Jude’s stare. The air sizzles and pops around us, a tangible static overwhelming me.

  “Okay, then.” He clears his throat. “Good night.”

  “Good night.”

  His words are that of departure, but his actions reflect a desire to stay. A whisper of a butterfly’s wings flutter within, but I squash it down. “Night,” I repeat, turning my back and making my way down the hall. I don’t hear the back door close until I reach the top of the stairs. I can’t help but smile at Jude’s chivalry.

  It’s not until I strip off do I realize that not once today did I attempt to cover something that isn’t and will never be there. When flying that kite with Angus and allowing myself to grieve with Jude, I grasp that I finally felt like…me.

  I’ve transformed and grown into something inexplicable, and I can’t wait to find out what that is.

  Caterpillar: The Feeding Stage

  The larva stage is a time for growth.

  The Second Stage: Larva

  The sound of banging disturbs my peaceful slumber, which is a shame, as it’s the first one I’ve had in months. Stretching the sleep from my bones, I laugh when my new friend does the same.

  I seem to be acquiring a lot of them lately.

  For someone who wanted to be left alone, I sure as hell have managed to do the opposite.

  Jäg meows, hinting he’s probably starved. After I find out what that banging is, I’ll head down to the store and fill my empty cupboards.

  Slipping on an oversized sweater, I pad down the stairs, chuckling at Jäg as he tries to keep up. “No point in you running. There is absolutely no food”—I pause, my eyes feasting on the unbelievable sight before them—“in the house,” I conclude, looking at the array of food spread out on my countertop, making a liar of me.