Butterfly Dreams

by A. Meredith Walters

  “I hate going to the doctor. I hate the tests and the questions. I hate that my friends, my family, they all look at me like I’m going to fall apart at any minute. That when they look at me, they don’t see Beckett Kingsley, they see a body in a hospital bed with wires and tubes everywhere.” Beckett gritted his teeth together and I found that I couldn’t look away.

  From his truth.

  His honesty.

  His everything.

  But then his face smoothed out and he relaxed once again. He took a deep breath and lifted his hands into the air in mock defeat.

  “But what can you do? Whine about it? Wallow in self-pity? That’s not how I roll. I can’t change what’s happened, only what I do from here on out. And one thing I won’t do is be miserable with the time I have left.”

  He left me a little baffled. I didn’t understand how he could be so calm. So resolute.

  “How can you be so damn optimistic? Why aren’t you more upset? Don’t you get angry? Or at least mildly pissed off? How in the hell can you sit there and talk about this stuff with a freaking smile on your face? Do they have you on antidepressants or something?” I scoffed.

  Beckett gaped at me for a second and then slapped his hand on the table, startling me. Shit. I had overstepped again.

  But he didn’t yell or become angry. He started laughing so hard that he was literally snorting through his nose.

  “Are you okay?” I asked, getting concerned when he began to gasp a bit. He pressed his hand over his chest, fingers touching the bandage I could see peeping out from his collar.

  “Seriously, Beckett, are you all right?” I asked. His face was red and he almost seemed to have trouble breathing. Was I going to have to call 911?

  Beckett shook his head. “I’m fine,” he wheezed.

  “What the hell was all that?” I demanded, irritated when he finally calmed down.

  “In the last four months since my cardiac arrest, no one has ever asked me those kinds of questions.” I frowned, not understanding what he was saying. Beckett rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Sure, my doctors ask how I’m feeling. If I’m short of breath or light-headed. They want to know about chest pains and dizziness. My parents coddle me and think I’m made of glass and my friends make a joke about it.” Beckett looked out the window, his blue eyes hooded, his brow furrowed. He wasn’t laughing anymore. He wasn’t smiling. He wasn’t jovial and optimistic.

  “No one has ever asked me if I’m upset. If I’m angry.” He turned back to me, his eyes meeting mine, and I couldn’t look away.

  “But you, a complete stranger, ask the things that no one else will. It’s nice.”

  “It’s nice? So that’s a reason to have a damn fit and freak me the hell out?” I frowned.

  “Don’t be so serious, Corin. Life’s too short. Trust me.” He reached across the table and took my hand in his. Fingers curling. Palms pressed. Touching. Holding.

  Feverish and smoldering.

  I pulled away and hid my tingling fingers in my lap beneath the table.

  Beckett blinked a couple of times and curled his hand into a relaxed fist. The tension that had been building in the air between us collapsed and disappeared. I was relieved.

  I was terrified.

  I was so, so disappointed.

  “I remember you saying in group that you have a pottery studio in town?” Beckett asked, abruptly changing the subject.

  “Yeah. It’s called Razzle Dazzle. It’s on Main Street just on the other side of Denny’s.”

  “That’s cool. I really like arty stuff. I don’t paint or sculpt or anything like that but I used to take pictures. I was actually pretty good too. My doctor suggested I get back into it or find some other outlet to de-stress. She says art is very calming. I just haven’t really gotten around to it.”

  “Sculpting makes me calm,” I responded lamely. Always lamely. It was my natural state of being. I sounded like a Neanderthal. Me Corin like pottery.

  “Maybe I could come by sometime,” Beckett ventured.

  “Oh, yeah, sure. Anytime. We’re open until five Monday through Saturday, but we don’t open until noon on Wednesdays,” I recited by rote. “We’re also closed on Sundays and on most holidays.”

  Okay, Corin, it’s time to shut up now.

  “Can I come by now?” Beckett asked.

  “N-now?” I sputtered.

  Beckett shrugged. “Well, it’s not like you’re drinking that coffee, and I took the rest of the day off, so why not?”

  “Oh, well, okay.”

  I stood up in a rush and knocked over the still-full cup of coffee.

  “Crap!” I yelped. Beckett grabbed a handful of napkins and started mopping up the mess.

  “I think you could use some de-stressing as well,” Beckett joked, dropping the soggy napkins on his saucer.

  I gave him a half smile. Not much.

  But he smiled back as though I had given him so much more.

  Chapter 8

  Corin

  Before leaving the coffee shop, I had excused myself to go to the bathroom to rinse off my shirt that had gotten stained in the Coffeepocalypse.

  I closed myself in the restroom and ran some water in the sink, trying to get myself together.

  Why was I freaking out?

  What was the big deal?

  The nerves in the pit of my stomach knocked around like a thousand butterflies, trying to crawl up my throat. Suffocating me. Ruining everything.

  This was the first time in my adult life I was developing something that felt a lot like friendship.

  Real friendship.

  Something genuine.

  Sure I had Adam, but most days I was pretty sure he didn’t even like me.

  Beckett seemed to enjoy being around me. As incredible as that sounded, he didn’t find me off-putting or odd. He had told me that he liked talking to me. He laughed when I was actually trying to be funny and not because I was acting like a freak.

  The dull ache in my chest that I had grown accustomed to had disappeared. The familiar pain in my joints, in my muscles, was gone. I wasn’t thinking about any of that right now.

  Because I was almost sure that I had just made a new friend.

  This isn’t kindergarten, Corin. Don’t be a dork!

  I joined Beckett outside after a few minutes. He was looking down at his phone, a dark scowl on his face. He typed out a text angrily before making a noise of disgust and then shoved the phone into his pocket.

  “Everything okay?” I asked.

  Beckett looked up at the sound of my voice, his face clearing. All signs of his earlier irritation gone.

  “Just peachy,” he responded a little too brightly.

  His phone chirped again and his face blackened again.

  “Do you need to answer that?” I asked, pointing to his phone.

  He sighed. “I can deal with it later.”

  “Is it work?” I pried. I really was being nosy today.

  “We really need to find you a filter that fits,” Beckett chuckled, not offended.

  “If you have somewhere to be, you can come by the studio later,” I offered, feeling mildly disappointed at the idea.

  “No, it’s nothing. Just…it’s just my girlfriend.”

  Girlfriend.

  I had almost forgotten about her.

  “Ex-girlfriend I mean. We broke up not long ago. She’s just letting me know she came to get her stuff. And you know, to tell me to go fuck myself,” he laughed a little awkwardly. I felt myself brighten. I couldn’t help it. Not about the guy being told to go fuck himself.

  But about the fact that he didn’t have a girlfriend anymore.

  Why was I so pleased about that?

  “I’m sorry?” I wasn’t sure what I should say. Because he didn’t seem too broken up over the whole thing.

  Beckett shrugged. “It was a breakup that was long overdue.” He cleared his throat and gave me a small smile.

  “What did you say her name
was?” I asked. Why are you beating this very dead horse, Corin?

  I could tell he didn’t really want to talk about her, but I was curious. Morbidly so.

  “Sierra,” he said hesitantly.

  “That’s a pretty name,” I replied lamely. It really wasn’t a pretty name. It sounded like something you’d name a horse. Or a mean cheerleader.

  A girl with lots of teeth who wore a ponytail on top of her head as she pranced around in crop tops and booty shorts.

  “What’s she like?” I asked as we started walking in the direction of my studio.

  “She wasn’t the sort of person I wanted to spend my life with, which is why we’re no longer together,” he said a little harshly, and I felt instantly ashamed for grilling him about her.

  Beckett looked contrite and his expression softened. “I didn’t mean to snap at you. But it wasn’t a good relationship. I had tried to hold onto this idea of what we used to have before the cardiac arrest, and it just wasn’t working. Neither of us were the people we used to be.”

  “You’ve changed,” I surmised.

  Beckett shrugged. “Everyone changes. Life is full of ups and downs. And our relationship couldn’t cope with the downs. I need someone who can ride the wave with me. No matter what happens.”

  I swallowed thickly, feeling myself pulled in by the intensity of his gaze.

  “Oh,” I murmured.

  Beckett looked away, somewhere off into the distance.

  “Plus she’s younger. She still wanted to party and go bungee jumping on weekends. She never really acclimated herself to how different life was now that I couldn’t do the things I used to.”

  “So she wasn’t okay with you not bungee jumping or whatever?”

  He shook his head, scratching at his chin absently.

  “Well, it sounds like she sucked. And you shouldn’t waste time on sucky people.”

  Wow. Really eloquent, Corin, I thought dismally.

  “So you don’t waste your time with sucky people? Does that mean I don’t suck?” he asked when we were close to the studio.

  I rolled my eyes, though quietly relieved that he hadn’t told me to shove my unwanted opinions up my ass. “I plead the fifth.” We crossed the busy street toward the shop. “Did you really go bungee jumping on weekends?” I asked incredulously.

  “Sure. And you haven’t?”

  “Do you know how easy it is to have your eyes ripped from their sockets by the force? You could have gone blind!”

  “You can’t spend your time always worrying about something happening to you. How do you ever experience anything living like that?” Beckett asked as I stopped just outside Razzle Dazzle.

  “At least you can go to bed at night with all your appendages intact,” I remarked primly, folding my arms over my chest.

  Beckett leaned in close. So close that our lips were only inches apart. “Being scared is never an excuse to hide. You should wake up every morning thankful you have another day to enjoy.”

  I stared into his eyes, hardly able to breathe. Beckett seemed to realize how close he was but he didn’t back away.

  “You need to live each day like you won’t get another, Corin. Don’t waste time being miserable.” His voice was so soft. So sure. So full of truth that it rattled around in my head. In my heart.

  “Are you taking your own advice, Beckett?” I countered just as softly.

  We continued to stare at each other, neither looking away.

  “I’m trying,” he answered and then leaned back, the cold taking his place. I shivered involuntarily.

  “Are you going to let me go inside, or are we going to stand out here all day?” he teased, changing the subject.

  “Come on then.” I turned my back on him to open the door.

  We walked in and Beckett stopped. “Wow, is it always this busy?” he asked, and I was pleased with how impressed he looked.

  I didn’t want to tell him that the packed house was a total fluke. That while our trade was steady at times, we were never as overrun as we currently were. But I was glad that he had chosen today of all days to come by.

  “Sometimes,” I answered offhandedly.

  “This is incredible, Corin. I can’t believe I didn’t know this place was here.” Beckett picked up an unpainted figurine from the shelf.

  Adam looked up as we came in. He glanced from me to Beckett but otherwise gave no indication that he cared one way or another that I had brought a random guy into the studio for the first time ever.

  “Do you run this by yourself?” Beckett asked, putting the figurine down and moving aside as a little boy ran past him on his way to the toilet.

  “My partner Adam and I run it together,” I answered, indicating Adam, who was still watching us from the other side of the room. He was being sort of creepy about it. I narrowed my eyes at my friend but that didn’t stop his voyeurism. His blatant curiosity was obvious. He had no shame.

  Beckett glanced at Adam and back to me, clearing his throat. His face darkened and he looked unhappy. “Oh. I didn’t realize. Shit. This probably looks bad.”

  I blinked a couple of times, confused.

  “Huh?”

  Beckett crossed his arms over his chest, his jaw tense. “Me coming in here with you like this. I didn’t know you had a boyfriend.”

  I choked and started coughing. “Wh…what?” I wheezed.

  “Crap. Are you okay?” Beckett asked, bending over to look at me, pounding me on the back.

  I took a deep breath and swallowed. “Adam’s not my boyfriend. Dear god, no!”

  Adam was still watching Beckett and me. I’d have to talk to him about that later. He needed to learn subtlety if he was planning to play spy.

  Beckett gave me a smile that I swear looked relieved. Or was that wishful thinking? Why would I be wishing that? I didn’t care if he was relieved. Or if he decided to start a tap dance routine in the middle of my shop. Okay, that may be a little on the odd side.

  I sighed. My internal ramblings were giving me a headache.

  “Oh, I just thought—forget it.” He relaxed and I relaxed.

  “He’s my friend. Has been since we were teenagers. He opened the store with me. Helped me start the business,” I explained in a rush.

  “That’s good. Because I thought for a second I was going to have to defend this amazing face of mine for coming in here with you.”

  I rolled my eyes. “Your face is safe.”

  “Cor, where the hell have you been? I’ve been trying to call you,” Adam demanded, appearing beside us. His face wasn’t blankly neutral now. He looked a little flustered.

  “Sorry I’m late, Adam. Is there a problem?” I asked a little anxiously, unused to seeing Adam so put out. He was used to my flaky schedule and kept the wheels of our joint business moving without complaint.

  “You’ve been gone for over two hours. You said your appointment wouldn’t be more than forty-five minutes. You knew we had this booking.” I flushed in embarrassment at being chided in front of Beckett.

  Though I should have remembered. Adam really didn’t do crowds. He had a pretty serious people phobia. Which was unfortunate for a guy that ran a store catering to the public.

  Beckett had the decency to pretend to be looking at the drying pieces from an earlier group lining the table in front of him.

  “I’m sorry. I should have called. I had an…incident.” I dropped my voice to a whisper, hoping Adam picked up on what I was trying to tell him.

  Adam gave Beckett a pointed look. “Is he the incident?” he asked, and I discreetly punched him in the arm.

  “No! It was at the doctor’s office.” I peeked at Beckett, hoping he wasn’t hearing this. “I’ll tell you about it later.”

  “Here.” He shoved a pot of green paint in my hands. “The table over there needs this. I’m going on my break.”

  “We have all these people—” I started.

  “They’ve been talking to me, Cor. I’ve had to talk back. I need a break.
” He pitched his voice low.

  “Yeah, okay. Go ahead. Wouldn’t want you to pop a blood vessel trying to be friendly,” I said.

  Adam walked back to the office and closed the door, and I knew I wouldn’t see him again for another twenty minutes.

  “Uh, if this is a bad time—” Beckett began.

  “No, it’s fine. Why don’t you pick out something you want to paint and I’ll bring you some supplies.”

  Krista and our other employee, Jane, were handling the large group. “How has everything been?” I asked the two, checking to make sure everything was in order.

  “Fine. It’s been a pretty low-key group. Though I think Adam may have scared the kids when they asked if they could paint his shoes,” Krista snickered.

  I groaned. “Well, Mr. Moody Pants is having his break. He’ll be back out here in a few minutes,” I told her.

  “Oh, okay,” Krista said, her eyes flickering back to the closed office door.

  I nodded my head in Beckett’s direction. “I’m going to help out this customer. If you need me, I’ll be over there.”

  Jane, a pretty redhead with an unfortunately overlarge nose, widened her eyes. “I’ll help him! He’s hot!”

  I tried not to get annoyed. “No, I’ve got it. Thanks.”

  Jane pouted but didn’t argue.

  I headed back over to Beckett, who was picking up a butterfly from the shelf. “Everything A-OK on deck?” he asked. “Your partner looked like he was about to blow a gasket.”

  “Adam’s fine. He’s just not what you would call a sociable person. He never met a good mood he couldn’t slaughter. So he’s back in the office pulling up his big-girl panties and touching up his makeup.”

  Beckett chuckled. “I can see why you guys are friends.”

  “Hey, what’s that supposed to mean? I always pull up my big-girl panties.” I flushed. Beckett’s eyes heated. Great, now we were both thinking about my panties.

  “Did you pick something you want to paint?” I asked, indicating the butterfly in his hand. Changing the subject as fast as I could.

  “Yeah, I guess. So I just paint it? We’re not going to play Ghost with a pottery wheel?” he asked. I burned a deeper shade of red. At this rate my cheeks were going to stay that way permanently.