Chasing Butterflies

by Beckie Stevenson

  Chapter 21

  Yara

  “Excuse me.”

  The guy behind the bar looks up and smiles at me. “Sorry,” he says as he stands and wipes his hands down the front of his trousers, “we’ve only just opened and I wasn’t expecting anyone to be here yet.” I see his eyes slide over to the clock on the wall. “What can I get you?”

  “What?” I ask.

  “To drink,” he says, smirking at me. “Unless you came in here just to see me?” He winks and then reaches up to grab an empty glass.

  Oh. Maybe a drink would be good. Maybe it will stop my hands from shaking. Maybe I can numb myself to the point of not being able to remember. “Whiskey, please,” I say because that’s the only drink I know of.

  “With what?”

  Shoot. What do people normally have with it? “Um, lemonade?”

  “Sure thing.” He smiles at me again and turns around to grab a bottle of amber-coloured liquid. “So, I guess you’re new to the village?”

  “Not really,” I whisper as I watch him make my drink. “I just keep to myself.”

  “Ah,” he says, “a quiet one.” He pushes the drink towards me. “It’s the quiet ones we’re all supposed to watch out for.”

  Isn’t it just. “So,” I say as I take a sip of my drink, wincing as it burns all the way down to my stomach, “you must hear all the gossip around here.”

  “Yeah, I guess you could say that.”

  “I heard about Jasmine going to the hospital this morning,” I say. “How’s she doing?”

  His face falls, and I immediately feel sick and push the drink away from me. “Did you know her?”

  Did? “Not really,” I say. “We weren’t friends or anything. I just wanted to know how she was doing, but I didn’t want to bug the family.”

  He visibly swallows. “I’m afraid Jasmine died before they got her to the hospital. Apparently, it was her epilepsy.”

  Oh god. Jasmine is dead. I did it. I killed her. I must be as evil as Granny always said I was. “Oh, no,” I say, feeling the weight of what I’ve done settle deep in my bones. “Poor Gabriel.”

  “Yeah,” he agrees, nodding. Then he gazes at me curiously and says, “Wait, you know Gabriel?” I see the wheels start to turn in his head. Gabriel told me the other day that Jonny was his best friend, so he’s probably wondering why he doesn’t know me.

  “I’m Yara,” I finally whisper. “I don’t have a phone and he’s not been home yet. I just wanted to know if he was okay.”

  Jonny’s mouth drops open. “You’re Yara?”

  “Yes,” I say.

  “Yara Hendricks?”

  I nod again. “Yes.”

  “Fuck,” he breathes.

  “What?” I look around, wondering why he looks like he’s seen a ghost.

  “Yara,” he repeats.

  I like how he holds my stare. Not like everyone else in this village. “What is it?”

  “Nothing,” he says quickly, straightening himself up. “You’re not what I was expecting, that’s all.”

  I frown, not understanding what he means by that. But I have more important things to worry about. “Have you spoken to Gabriel?”

  “Only briefly. He’s pretty upset. He and Jasmine didn’t have the best relationship, to be honest, but well, you know, they’re siblings and you kinda have a weird bond with them whether you want to or not.”

  I wouldn’t know, but I nod anyway as I pull some money from my purse. “Do you know when he’ll be back home?”

  “In a couple of hours.”

  Not long. “Okay. Thanks for the drink.” I push the money toward him and hop off the stool.

  “Shall I tell him you were asking after him?”

  “No,” I say sadly. “But could you just tell him that I’m sorry.”

  “Sorry?” He frowns. “What are you sorry for?”

  “I have to go. It was nice to finally meet you.” I turn around and run as fast as I can out of the bar and all the way home.

  Gabriel

  I turn away from my mum’s heartbroken, grief-stricken face and look out the window of the taxi. The trees and hills that litter the distance of our pathetic little village still look the same to me. Jasmine’s death hasn’t hit me anywhere near as hard as it’s hit my mum, and I’m scared that she’ll see that and be disappointed in me.

  Maybe I’m in shock, or perhaps I’m still angry at Jasmine because of the way she tortured and bullied Yara. Jasmine was a horrible person, and maybe that’s why I don’t feel sad that my sister just died. Or maybe I’m just a heartless bastard.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” my mum stammers as she begins to sob.

  I doubt it. “I don’t think we need to say anything, Mum.”

  “I do,” she says. “Jasmine was awful at times, and I know you two didn’t get on, but she was a lovely little girl once.”

  “Mum…” I begin, wondering if I should be honest with her or not. “I’m sure you loved her no matter what,” I say, finally turning to face her. “I’m just in shock, that’s all.”

  She nods. “What she did to poor Yara was unforgivable, but she must have just gotten in with the wrong crowd at school or something.”

  “Don’t do this, Mum. Don’t try and make excuses for her. She was what she was, and no one is going to judge you for grieving your only daughter.”

  She squeezes my hand and sniffs. “I guess it’s just the two of us now, Gabriel.”

  I swallow the huge lump in my throat and squeeze her hand back. “I’m sure Dad’s having stern words with her up there about her recent behaviour,” I say, feeling the decade-old ache swell in my chest.

  When the taxi pulls up at our house, Mum nods toward the phone in my hand. “Oh no, I forgot about Yara. Have you spoken to her? Did the doctors come for her?”

  “I don’t know,” I say, shaking my head. “Yara doesn’t have my number, and she told me she doesn’t know how to use a phone either.”

  We pay the driver and then climb out of the car. Staring up at our house, I have no idea what’s going to happen to the two of us now. Sure, Jasmine was a pain in the arse, but she was the only one left that Mum could look after.

  “I’m sorry, Mum,” I whisper as I pull her close to me. “I’m sorry I went away, and I’m sorry you seem to lose the people you love.”

  She breaks down and sobs uncontrollably into my chest. I tighten my grip around her and let her cry until she has no more tears left. When she’s done, she sniffs and then straightens, nodding up at the house behind me.

  Mum tucks a piece of her blond hair behind her ear and sighs deeply. “I should go in and call your Aunties and Uncles.”

  “I’ll help,” I say, because I don’t know what else I can do. “I’m sure I saw your old address book in the messy drawer the other day.”

  She turns and gives me a small, sad smile, and then I see her eyes move to something behind me.

  “Hi, Mrs King. I’m so sorry.”

  “Thank you, Jonny,” she says, patting his shoulder as he comes to stand next to me. “And thank you for being here for Gabriel.

  “It’s no problem.”

  “You stay out here for a minute or two,” Mum says, giving me a look.

  “Are you sure?”

  “Yes,” she says, patting my cheek with her palm. “I just need a minute to myself.”

  “Okay.”

  We both stand and watch as she walks into the house.

  Jonny turns to me and pulls me into a hug. “I’m so sorry, man. I don’t have the first fucking idea what to say to you.”

  “It’s alright,” I tell him, giving him a manly pat on the back.

  “I wouldn’t have come so soon,” he says, pulling away from me, “only I thought you should know something.

  “What?” I ask, noticing how he’s shuffling on his feet.

  “I saw Yara.”

  “Where?”

  “At the bar. She was there a few hours ago.”

  “S
he was in the bar?” I ask, confused.

  “Yeah, she was asking about Jasmine. And when you’d be back home.”

  Oh. “Okay,” I say, “and what did you tell her?”

  “The truth,” he says, wiping some sweat off his top lip with the back of his hand. “I didn’t know I shouldn’t.”

  I frown at him. “Why would you not tell her the truth?”

  “Because she was acting weird.”

  I roll my eyes. “Not you as well.”

  “No, man, not in that way. She told me to tell you that she was sorry.”

  What? “Why would she tell you that?”

  “Exactly,” he says. “She sounded like she was bailing, Gabe.”

  Fuck.

  “Come with me,” I tell him as I grab at his shirt.

  “Alright, alright,” he says, batting my hand away. “Where are we going?”

  “To Yara’s.”

  “Really?”

  “Come on!” I call as I start to run around the back of my house. “It’ll be quicker through the garden.”

  “Why are we running? What is it that you think she’s done?”

  “I don’t know,” I huff as I break into a sprint.

  When we’re at her house, I yank on the back door like I’ve always done, but it’s locked. “Shit,” I say. “Let’s try the front.”

  “Obviously,” Jonny says.

  I jab him in his side for that stupid comment. When we get to the front, we stop in our tracks. My eyes trail over the black Mercedes that’s parked by Yara’s gate.

  “Is that her?” Jonny tugs at me until we’re standing at the end of the path.

  I see a flash of pale hair through the tinted windows and I bolt towards the car just as a man stands in front of me, blocking Yara from my view.

  “Mr King,” he says. His voice is smooth. Professional.

  “Yes,” I answer. I try to peer around him to see Yara, but he keeps blocking me. “Who are you?”

  “My name is Doctor Jean-Luc Francois.”

  “Jean-Luc Francois. Really?”

  “Oui,” he says. I take a good look at him and realise he’s not a doctor at all. Doctors wouldn’t have tattoos all up their necks or look like they spend every moment of every day at the gym. And I’m betting Francois isn’t his real fucking name either.

  “Get out of my way,” I say, feeling like the world has started to spin in the opposite direction.

  “What the hell is going on?” asks Jonny. “And who the fuck are you?”

  I don’t wait for the idiot to answer. I try to push him aside so I can get to the door—so I can get to Yara—but he pushes my shoulder with ridiculous strength and I stagger backwards.

  “What the fuck?” asks Jonny, steadying me.

  “I’m in the process of transferring Miss Hendricks to a mental institute. As neither of you are family, I have no reason to reveal the whereabouts of this institute, and Miss Hendricks hasn’t given me permission to divulge it.”

  “This is bollocks,” I spit. “Move out of my way.”

  “No,” the guy says.

  I feel like everything is falling apart. The images in front of me are wobbling, and I can feel my whole body shaking as I stare at the car.

  “I mean it,” I threaten. “Get the fuck out of my way.”

  “No.”

  Fuck this. I swing my fist and punch the bastard in his gut. It’s like punching stone, and I immediately pull my hand back, wincing at the pain. Shit, that hurt.

  “All legal issues have been taken care of,” the guy says, acting like I haven’t just punched him with all my might.

  He finally moves and starts to walk to the front of the car, and then I see Yara’s face staring back at me. “Yara,” I breathe, pressing my hand against the cool glass. “Don’t do this.”

  I see a single tear fall down her cheek and then she mouths ‘I’m sorry’ before turning away from me.

  “No,” I shout as the car starts to move away. “Yara!” The car picks up speed, and I sprint to try and keep up with it. I hit the glass as my legs struggle to keep up. “Don’t do this. Please, Yara!” I know I’m acting like a loser, but I don’t care. She can’t leave me. Not now. Not after everything.

  I bang on the glass again, but I know I’m running out of time. “Stay. Please, stay,” I beg. The car screeches away and I slump to the ground.

  The last thing I see before the car completely disappears is Yara’s hand pressed against the rear glass window.

  Yara

  I try to hold onto my sobs as they splutter in my chest. I never thought it would be possible to feel your life restart and then completely end within the space of a couple of hours, but that’s exactly what’s happened to me this morning.

  I’ve shattered Gabriel’s family, and I’ve done it because I broke my promise to never hit back. Granny said I was stupidly strong and I guess she was right. And I know running away from what I’ve done is wrong, but I don’t want them to ever know that I was the cause of all their pain..

  I couldn’t be with Gabriel and not tell him the truth. If I told him the truth, he’d hate me. At least this way he won’t hate me.

  “Are you sure about this, Yara?”

  I look up to see Jez watching me in the rearview mirror. “Yes.”

  He whistles and smiles at me. “You’re one crazy, little chick. Anyone ever tell you that?”

  Even though my heart is breaking, I manage a small smile. “Just about everyone.”

  He shakes his head. “Your guy didn’t want you to leave.”

  “My guy doesn’t know what I did.”

  “What did you do?”

  I can’t tell anyone what I’ve done. I’m too ashamed. “It doesn’t matter now. I’m not ever going back. I’m sure he’ll get over me.”

  Jez shakes his head again. “He didn’t look like the kind of guy that would get over you easily.”

  I swallow and brush my tears from my face. “What do you care anyway?”

  He shrugs and turns the car onto the dual carriageway. “I dunno,” he says. “You just seem so lonely for someone so young.”

  I sniff. “I’m not paying you to think about how lonely I am.”

  “That’s true,” he says. “But I feel like I should offer you my help.”

  “Your help?”

  “Yes. You’re running, and I know how to help people who run.”

  Now he’s got my attention. “How?”

  “A job. Somewhere to stay. A new life.”

  “Oh yeah?” I whisper. “And how much is that going to cost me?”

  Jez laughs and puts his foot down on the accelerator. “Well that, Yara, is going to depend on what you want.”

  “I want everything,” I tell him. “A new life. A new identity.” I think about the caterpillars I used to keep and the butterflies they turned into. “I want to be reborn.”

  After

  I have not broken your heart – you have broken it; and in breaking it, you have broken mine.”

  ~ Emily Brontë, Wuthering Heights

  Chapter 22

  5 years later

  Gabriel

  I take one last look at myself in the lift mirrors and then step out onto the glittering black marble floors of the hotel foyer.

  “Oi, oi!” I hear one of the guys call. “Gabriel has finally decided to grace us with his presence. What were you doing up there? Printing the notes yourself?”

  I smile and shake my head as I start to walk toward them. A couple of women dressed in short, skin-tight dresses smile at the rest of the guys and then beam at me as they approach.

  “We think you’re worth the wait.”

  I look at the brunette, noticing the gleam of her white teeth as she smiles at me. “I always am,” I say automatically.

  “I don’t doubt that for a second.” She winks and then spins back around and walks out of the hotel with her friend who giggles and links her arm in hers.

  “What took you so long?” asks Jonny,
patting me on the back when I finally get to him. “Bernie has already tried to sleep with the barmaid. Twice.”

  “I haven’t,” Bernie slurs, frowning at me.

  “Bernie is going to be a complete fucking mess. I just know it,” says Jonny as he smirks at him.

  “Fuck off,” Bernie says.

  I laugh along with them and Jonny directs me to the bar. He orders us two straight whiskeys then nods toward the rest of the guys. “They don’t know what we’re doing yet.”

  “I don’t know what we’re doing yet,” I remind him.

  “Oh, yeah,” he says through a laugh. I lean over and pay for our drinks as Jonny winks at the barmaid. “Thanks,” he says to her.

  “No worries,” she says, giving us a smile as she flicks her long, pale-blond hair over her shoulder. My eyes linger on her for just a second and then I turn back around, taking a sip of my drink.

  “I’ve realised something.” Jonny drains his drink in one gulp and places the empty glass back on the bar.

  “What’s that?” I ask.

  “You stare at the girls that look like Yara. If you think about the girls you’ve dated”—his eyes find mine and then he raises his eyebrows at me—“they all resemble her too.”

  His words make me feel like I’ve been punched in the stomach. In fact, I would rather him punch me than bring her up. “I don’t know what you mean.”

  “You do,” he says, watching the guys as they tell each other how much money they’ve lost in the casinos.

  “So, what are we doing tonight?” I ask, eager to change the subject. “And isn’t it customary to let your best man organise your stag party for you?”

  “Yeah, but at least I’ll have a stag party that’s just what I wanted.”

  “Fine. What are we doing?”

  “Strip club,” he tells me.

  I roll my eyes. “Like we haven’t been to those before.”

  “Not one like this,” he says, grinning at me. “This one has a two-year waiting list.”