The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology

by Anthology

  I pull in a breath, not entirely sure how I want to answer that. I don’t want to lie to my sister, but I know if I tell her I’m so far from being okay, it will only lead to another discussion that I don’t want to have. I know they’re concerned. I know they worry about me and wonder how I’m carrying on from day to day… but that’s just it. I am living day by day. The girl who used to make plans for the future is now struggling to get out of bed, struggling to make it through her normal routine without completely falling apart.

  I look over at my sister—who is in every way my exact opposite, from her blonde curls to her tan complexion—and I try to hold back the tears stinging the corner of my eyes. My composure lasts a whole twenty seconds before the tears win out, spilling freely down my cheeks.

  “Oh, sweetie...” Jenny immediately drops the plate in her hand, and as it clashes back into the sink, she pulls me toward her, wrapping her arms around me.

  A sob escapes from my throat as I fall into my sister’s embrace, and I shake my head, barely able to get the words out. “I don’t want to be like this anymore, Jen. I don’t—” I can’t breathe. My lungs feel as if they are on the verge of collapsing, much like the rest of my world has, and there is nothing I can do to stop it. “How do I make it stop? How do I make it not hurt?”

  Her hold on me tightens and her lips brush across my forehead before placing a gentle kiss against it. “I don’t know, sweetie. I don’t know… but you don’t have to do this alone. We’re here. Understand me? We’re always here.”

  I nod into her chest, letting the hurt and pain escape the same way they have every single day since that night: through tears and broken sobs, through the cracks in my forever shattered heart. Time passes, and when my breathing returns to a steady rhythm and I’ve managed enough strength to lift my head, I meet my sister’s supportive blue eyes.

  Reaching out, she swipes her thumbs across my cheekbones in an attempt to erase what is left of the pain, pain that will only return the second I completely step out of this moment. “I know you miss him… but, Cass, he’d want you to be happy. He wouldn’t want you living your life in this never-ending cycle of guilt and regret.”

  My lips tremble as I drag in another shuddering breath, and her fingers move across my face lightly brushing away the dark brown strands of hair clinging to my wet cheeks. “If you can’t possibly manage to be happy for yourself… then be happy for him.”

  Jenny’s words linger in my ears, the truthfulness of them causing my chest to constrict in the most uncomfortable way. She’s right. Adam would want me to be happy. He’d want me to live my life with a smile on my face and a weightlessness in my heart, but that’s the problem: being happy is something I’ve forgotten how to do without him.

  With my mind in a fog, I allow Jenny to guide me out of the kitchen and into the dining room, where she sits me down at the table. Her lips find their way to the top of my head, and as she stands behind me, squeezing my shoulders gently, she whispers into my hair. “You’re going to make it through this, Cass. Maybe not tomorrow, or even three months from now. But I can promise you, you’re going to know what it means to be happy again, to wake up and it not hurt.”

  Another tear trails down my cheek, and as I wipe it away, I sniff back the ones that are eager to follow in its path. “Thanks, Jen.”

  “I love you.” Her arms loop around my shoulders, pulling me into another supportive hug, and then she pulls back. “I’m going to grab us each a cup of coffee, okay? I’ll be right back.”

  “Okay.”

  It’s only a couple of minutes before Jenny is returning with two mugs in hand, hot steam billowing from the top as she sets one down in front of me. I curl my hands around it, relishing the comforting warmth as I pull it carefully toward me and inhale the rich aroma of freshly crushed coffee beans.

  Shaking my head, I take a sip, savoring the flavor as it coats my throat. “I don’t know how you do it.”

  She eyes me curiously. “What’s that?”

  “This.” I tip my chin and gesture down at the cup in my hands. “How do you manage to wrangle three boys, and yes, I’m counting Ryan in that number, a three-year-old, and still have the energy to crush damn coffee beans.”

  A light-hearted chuckle slips from her throat. “Oh, Cass. Didn’t you know I’m superwoman?”

  “No.” I mock gasp, my lips screwing to the side. “Really? You’re kidding.”

  Another smile tugs at her mouth, and as she walks over to the china hutch in the corner of the room, I watch her fingers shuffle through the stack of white envelopes sitting on one of its shelves. Pulling one from the pile, she waves it in the air.

  “So… this came here for you the other day. I’m not exactly sure what it is, but…” She sets the envelope down in front of me, and the breath I’m in the middle of inhaling lodges itself in the back of my throat.

  Stomach suddenly a mess of bubbling nerves, I set my coffee mug down on the table and run the tips of my fingers over my neatly scrolled name, my eyes fixating on the familiar red logo situated at the top left corner.

  Jenny places her hands over mine, but I don’t look at her. I can’t. My eyes are glued to the envelope, and my entire body is stuck in a state of shock as the walls surrounding us begin to close in, slow at first, and then faster and faster.

  “You don't have to open it, Cass. Not if you don't want to. Not today. Not tomorrow. Not ever. Okay?”

  I swallow down the dryness in my throat and nod my head, barely registering the movement as my mind tries to catch up with my racing heart.

  “What if—”

  Oh God. My chest heaves as I try to capture enough air to fill my lungs, and I can feel a new wave of tears quickly forming, ready to line my red and puffy eyes. “What if it’s—”

  “Hey, listen to me. I know this is hard, and the last thing I will ever do is push you, but maybe… maybe this is the first step to finding some closure. Maybe opening this is exactly what you need.”

  Looking through a sheen of tears, I glance back down at the envelope, afraid to open it, afraid it will hold a lifetime more of heartache, and possibly worse: resentment.

  THE BELL ABOVE the coffee shop door chimes, and as I step foot into the small cafe that has become more like a second home, I inhale the sweet smell of butter, sugar, and exotic coffee beans.

  “Morning, Sam!” Addy’s jovial tone bursts over the early morning chatter filling the quaint space, and as I follow the sound, my eyes land on the rosy-cheeked, silver-haired beauty working behind the counter. A beaming smile on her face and a pot of coffee in her hand, she lifts her head to look at me. “What will it be today? The usual?”

  “Yes, ma'am.”

  Navigating around the occupied tables, I acknowledge the ‘good mornings’ and ‘how are yous’ being tossed my way by the regular patrons, and sit down on one of the free stools, shrugging my jacket from my shoulders and draping it over the empty seat beside me.

  A hole in the wall location, The Hideout has been my go to coffeehouse for as long as I can remember. Red brick walls and ambient lighting make for a comforting and inviting atmosphere, and the friendly staff, as well as the vast selection of delicious coffee and baked goods, means it's a favorite amongst many.

  “How are you this morning, sweetie?”

  A mug filled to the brim with hazelnut coffee is set down in front of me, and as I pick it up and bring it to my lips, I can't help the smile that works its way onto my face. “I'm alive and breathing, so I must be good, right?”

  Smiling softly, Addy reaches her hand out, gently patting my free arm that lies stretched out across the wooden countertop. “That’s right, love. Absolutely right.” She turns back around and busies herself at one of the several coffee machines lining the back wall, talking over her shoulder to me as she fills the other orders being called out to her. “Any exciting plans for today?”

  “Um…” My stomach rumbles, partially out of hunger, but mainly because I'm dreading today, or mo
re precisely, this evening. Setting my cup down, my fingers still clenching the handle, I lick my dry lips. “I, uh… yeah, actually. Remember that event I was telling you about, the one the hospital was organizing?”

  Turning around, she lays a newspaper down beside me. Her brows bunch together, the corner of her eyes crinkling, as she searches her memory bank. Despite being in her late sixties, Addy has a fairly good memory and one of the sharpest minds I know. It's no wonder her coffee shop has continuously thrived in an economy that has had several others closing their doors. “Yes. I do. Are you nervous about it?”

  Nervous doesn’t even come close to describing it.

  Chest uncomfortably tight, I breathe in deeply, pushing the air back out on a long exhale. “You can say that.” I take another sip of coffee, feeling the anxiety lying in the pit of my stomach beginning to swirl. The next thought formulates rather quickly, slipping from the tip of my tongue before I even realize that it has done so. “What if they don't show up?”

  Sitting with my shoulders hunched forward, I wait for Addy to bestow me with her words of wisdom, even though I'm secretly hoping that my verbalized concern does in fact turn out to be the case. While I've rehearsed my lines one-hundred times over, I know that the moment they are standing in front of me, whoever they are, my speech is going to be shot to hell. I'm going to stumble and choke on the words I’ve spent the last six months of my life trying to find.

  “Well, my dear, that is entirely their choice. I can’t imagine going to this event will be any easier for them than it is for you. The only thing we can hope is that they are interested in hearing what you have to say.”

  What the hell do you say? How do you express your gratitude knowing it has caused them pain and heartache? How can you possibly look at them and smile and expect them to look back at you and do the same?

  Nodding my head, I stare down at my now half-empty mug, my fingers fiddling with the corner of the white napkin resting beneath it. “Yeah. I guess so.”

  “Listen to me, Sam.” Fragile hands reach out and cover mine, squeezing ever so gently in a reassuring manner. “I know what is working in that head of yours. I've known you far too long not to... but, sweetheart, you of all people know that life is not always easy. That is something that is never promised to us, and as difficult as that may be to accept at times, we need to take the good with the bad.”

  I tilt my chin up, meeting Addy’s soft gray eyes.

  “You've been blessed, my dear, and you can't live your life feeling guilty over something that was beyond your control. Very few times are we offered second chances in this life. It’s up to you now to make something out of yours.”

  My chest deflates as a huff of air pushes from my nose. “I know. I know. It’s just…” I tighten my jaw and shake my head, letting the thought float away. “How is that you always know exactly what to say?”

  I'm gifted another warm smile before she’s turning on her heels and removing the banana walnut muffin from the grill, placing it down in front of me. Her hands work quickly as she slathers a knife full of butter across the top of it, and without having to be asked, she grabs the coffee pot and refills my mug. “I like to think I’ve learned a lot in my lifetime… as will you. I’m a firm believer that things happen for a reason. You just have to trust that no matter what, everything will always work out, even if not how we originally intended.”

  I let her words seep into the part of my brain that processes that sort of thing, and nod appreciatively. “Thanks, Addy. I needed that this morning.”

  “Anytime, love. Anytime.”

  DRAGGING IN ANOTHER breath, I grab a hold of the handle on the door and step into the banquet hall already bustling with people. My eyes roll over the carefully decorated interior, taking note of the soft lighting and the burgundy carpet. Round tables sit about the floor, draped in heavy white linen and adorned with fine tableware and pretty floral arrangements. For a moment, I’m convinced I’m in the wrong place, but then I notice the registration table off to my right; the one the letter instructed us to visit upon arrival.

  Hands shoved into the pockets of my coat, I walk with nervous steps over to the small rectangular table and stand in line behind an elderly gentleman. A thin layer of sweat coats my palms, and my lungs constrict uncomfortably as I wonder if they may in fact already be here. I take another look around, this time paying closer attention to the bodies mingling about. Some are older, others young, yet every single one of them is stiff with tension from the awkwardness filling the room.

  Who the hell’s brilliant idea was this anyway? Throwing a gathering, a meet and greet to—

  “Next, please.”

  My silent chastisement is abruptly cut short by the lady sitting behind the check-in table, her blonde hair twisted into loose curls, and her blue eyes soft and gentle as they stare directly at me, waiting for my feet to take a step forward.

  I swallow down the dryness in my throat that has seemingly taken up permanent residence, and a wave of apprehension sweeps over me.

  What the hell am I doing here?

  I momentarily contemplate escaping back out of the door in order to remove myself from this unnerving situation, but find I’m unable to move as I notice Carmen strolling toward me.

  Lips painted red and curled high in genuine happiness, she opens her arms and pulls me into a friendly hug. I bury my face into her shoulder and inhale her familiar scent, the soft brown strands of her hair tickling my nose.

  “My, my… look at this handsome fella the wind has blown in.”

  The uneasiness rising up from my stomach quickly recedes, and I manage to find my voice. “Miss Rojas.”

  “Sam.” Her gloved hand pats my scruffed cheek as she pulls back, and the caring green eyes that I had spent a month's time under constant supervision of sparkle warmly up at me. A light-hearted smile creeps its way onto my face, and as if she's capable of reading my mind, she continues to speak. “I'm so glad you’ve decided to come, Sam. It takes a lot of courage to show up to these types of events, but take my word for it, you’ll leave here feeling much better than you did when you arrived.”

  Disbelieving laughter floats from my chest, the reaction brought on by my out-of-control nerves, and my lips form a straight line. “Well, that's if they even show up, right?”

  “You'd be surprised. Even so, it's good to get out and socialize, especially with people who have walked in your shoes. They know what it's like to be in your position.”

  I nod, her words providing me with the encouragement I need to make it through the rest of this evening.

  She places her hand on my arm right above my elbow. “I'm going to go say hello to some of my other past patients. I'll catch up with you a little later, okay?”

  “Yeah. Okay. It was good to see you.”

  “Likewise, Sam. And if for some reason I don’t see you again before the night is over, you take care of yourself, you hear?”

  “Thanks, Carmen. You too.” And on the breath of wind that leaves my lips, she is off, disappearing into the ever-growing crowd, leaving me to turn around and check in with the lady who has been waiting patiently.

  “Your name, please?”

  Let’s get this over with, Sam.

  “Um, Sam… Samuel Copeland.”

  “Thanks for coming, Mr. Copeland. My name is Natalie.” Her eyes follow the path of her manicured finger as it trails down the list of names on the paper in front of her, and as she lands on mine, she stops to highlight it. It’s mere seconds before she is rising from her seat, handing me a black marker and a blue and white ‘Hello, my name is’ badge, and pointing across the hall. “You’ll be sitting at table four. If you need anything, anything at all, please just let me know.”

  She flashes me a bright smile, and I give her an attempted one in return as I turn on my heels. I’m about to make my way to my assigned table when I realize I have no idea who in fact it is I’m supposed to be meeting. I stop mid-step and glance back at Natalie, my nervous
ness now evident in my tone.

  “I’m sorry, but how do I know who I’m—”

  “Oh, silly me. My apologies. Everyone I have checked in this evening so far has already known who they’d be meeting.” She places her hand over her chest and shakes her head, quickly flipping through her stapled papers. “Let’s see, Mr. Copeland, right?”

  I resist the temptation to roll my eyes, reminding myself that Natalie is more than likely a volunteer who has willingly given up her Friday night to be here.

  “Right.”

  “It looks as if you will be meeting with a Miss Cassidy Porter.” She lifts her head to meet my eyes, and something in my chest pulls unexpectedly as I notice the frown that has fallen on her expression. “Unfortunately, Miss Porter hasn’t notified us as to whether or not she will be attending, but I encourage you to stay. While we ask the guests to kindly RSVP, it’s not a requirement, so there is a possibility she may still arrive. We’ve come to find events like these are ones that people struggle to—”

  “Of course.” Gritting my teeth, I nod tightly. “Thank you, Natalie.”

  A slice of guilt cuts across me for so rudely cutting her off, but the truth of the matter is, I don't need her to elaborate. Being here, even contemplating the decision, is tough. Everybody here knows that. If Miss Porter doesn't show up, I can't blame her. And I certainly won't hold it against her.

  Crossing the hall, I weave myself around the tables until I locate the one I’ve been assigned. Eight chairs sit positioned around it, however, only one of them is occupied. I sigh, not sure if I'm doing so out of relief or slight disappointment. Outside of visiting Addy at the coffeehouse, I don't do much socializing, which one might find rather pathetic for a twenty-eight-year-old man. I just haven't had the desire. The people that I had once called close friends are off living their lives, getting settled in their careers, and tying the knot. Some have even crossed into parenthood, but me… I'm taking it one day at a time, attempting to appreciate everything this life has to offer from a different angle. A new outlook, so to speak.