The Butterfly Box_A SASS Anthology

by Anthology

  Upon reaching the table, I shrug my jacket off and gesture down at one of the empty chairs. “Anyone sitting here?”

  The elderly man, who I now recognize as the same gentleman who was standing in front of me in the registration line, straightens himself and waves his arm, encouraging me to have a seat.

  “It's all yours, son.”

  “Thank you.” I drape my jacket over the back of my chair and sit down, self-consciously reaching up to adjust the buttons near the collar of my shirt, a mannerism that has become second nature. “Lovely evening.”

  Lovely evening.

  What the hell… and this is exactly why I don't make small talk.

  Giving me a quick lift of his chin, he reaches his frail arm across the table. “Robert Kissell.”

  I take a hold of his hand, shaking it firmly before pulling back. “Sam Copeland.”

  We both sit in awkward silence for a few minutes, my eyes flicking around the room as my fingers absentmindedly trace the utensils resting on the table in front of me. For the second time this evening, I ask myself what it is I'm doing here and contemplate how rude it would be if I was to just stand up and leave. Not that anyone would really notice, much less care. The opportunity is stolen from me, though, as Robert finally decides to speak. His voice breaks through our quietness as he starts to freely share with me bits of his life: the time he spent in the military, and his wife, who had unexpectedly passed away four years ago. I don’t miss the sadness in his tone or the slight frown that tugs at his lips, and I briefly imagine what it must be like to love someone for most your life and then lose them so suddenly. It’s something I can't quite wrap my head around, seeing as I’ve never allowed myself to get close enough to anybody to allow such emotion to form.

  When your life is filled with so much uncertainty there is no space for selfishness. No room for falling in love.

  I listen awhile longer, my mind not entirely focusing on the words leaving Robert’s mouth. It’s not that I have no interest in the information he is sharing, I just feel like I’m wasting my time being here. An hour has already passed, and Miss Porter has yet to make an appearance.

  Excusing himself to the restroom, Robert stands from the table and disappears. I pull in a breath at the momentary reprieve, my hand coming up and sliding across my chest as if it will release some of the pressure sitting on my lungs, and something causes my eyes to shift. I glance over at the door, and my gut flips.

  There is a woman entering the hall.

  Looking hesitant—her hand clenched around the strap of her purse—she walks over to the registration table. Natalie greets her in much the same way she greeted me, and as she points in my direction, my entire body tenses. Despite everything telling me to turn my head, I can’t take my eyes off her.

  Brown hair with subtle streaks of red frame the gentle curves of her face, resting on her shoulders and down her back, and equally dark lashes blink in what I can only assume is nervousness, as warm, chocolate eyes stare out into the distance.

  I swallow down the lump in my throat, and as she begins to walk straight toward the table at which I’m sitting, I force my gaze away from her. My heart is beating at an abnormal rate, my leg and knee twitching as my pulse speeds up beneath my skin.

  God, please don’t let this be her. Please don’t let this be her.

  I stare down at my empty plate, concentrating all my thoughts on anything but this girl, this woman, who continues to carefully maneuver her small frame around the scattered tables. It’s not until I smell the sweet combination of vanilla and sugar that I sense she’s right beside me, and I gingerly lift my head to look at her.

  In the direct glow of the light, her fair complexion resembles that of a porcelain doll, and the absence of any heavy makeup lets me know that her age isn’t far from my own. There is something almost delicate about her, as if she is shattered glass on the verge of breaking, and for reasons even I can’t explain, I have this unusual urge to be the one to keep her together, to prevent her from falling so completely apart.

  Biting down on the corner of her bottom lip, she shifts restlessly on her feet, and if possible, the hold she has on the strap of her bag tightens even further, turning the skin on her knuckles ghostly white. “Is…” She lifts her chin, gesturing down at the chair two over from mine, her voice low and unsure. “Is this chair free?”

  In the time it has taken for Robert to leave me alone and for her to walk in the door, I have managed to lose my ability to speak. My mouth falls open, but nothing comes out. I quickly clamp my jaw shut and nod my head, silently informing her that the seat is in fact free for the taking.

  She stands for a lengthy moment, her eyes darting back over to the glass door—as if she is mentally calculating how quickly she can disappear out of it—and then slowly pulls the chair out, sitting herself on it. Her gaze lingers on her purse now resting on her lap, and the uneasiness coursing through her is thick and palpable in the small space between us.

  I watch as she uncaps the marker, her hand shaking ever so slightly as she writes her name on the obnoxious badge we’ve been given to wear, and my breath hitches.

  “Miss Porter.” Her name rolls off my tongue sounding more like a question than an acknowledgement.

  Casting a glance in my direction, she turns her head slowly until our eyes meet, and when they do it’s as if everything stops: the orchestrated music, the soft chatter from the people surrounding us, and I swear—even for a few brief seconds—the beats of my heart. My chest constricts as I stare at her, and my voice is robbed from me, my mind unable to form a cohesive thought because somehow, I’ve drifted into this beautiful woman’s world of heartache and pain.

  Glassy tears quickly line the surface of her eyes, and before my brain has a chance to kick-start, to command me to reach my hand over and properly introduce myself, she is sliding her chair back and rising to stand.

  She shakes her head. “I’m sorry. I can’t—” Voice trembling and lower lip quivering uncontrollably, she swings her purse over her shoulder and takes off across the floor, nearly knocking into another guest and tripping over a chair as she bolts for the exit door.

  I’m instantly on my feet, and although my heart calls out to her, is begging me to run after her and find her, I don’t move.

  I don’t move because it’s not really my heart at all.

  It’s his.

  I DON’T STOP.

  Regardless of how bad my lungs ache and how out of breath I may be, I continue to run as fast as I can, putting distance between myself and this man… this man who unknowingly owns a piece of my world. Hot and fast, tears stream down my cheeks, immediately cooling from the frigid October air.

  “Closure,” Jenny had said.

  Come for closure.

  I’m not sure closure is supposed to feel this way: to tear you open and leave you raw, to have you crying out in mind-numbing pain. Only, I’m not numb. I feel it. All of it. Every emotion I wish I was incapable of experiencing.

  Rounding the corner of fifth street, I disappear into the empty alleyway and lean against the brick wall of the building behind me, my chest heaving from exertion. I drop my tear-soaked face into the palms of my hands and finally surrender. My knees give out, and as I slide down the wall into a broken mess on the cold ground, my mind immediately takes me back to a time when smiling didn’t feel so impossible.

  ADAM TURNS THE key in the ignition, killing the engine on the moving van, as he swings his head around to look at me. “Are you ready?” he asks, a beautiful smile on his handsome face.

  I bite down on my lip, my stomach aflutter with wings of anxiousness and excitement. This is a big step for us; the first of many. “Yes.”

  My response comes out as an excited squeal, and Adam wastes no time pulling the handle on his door, kicking it open, and quickly rounding the front of the van as he makes his way to my side. Yanking my door open, he reaches in and helps me to my feet. His hands snake around my waist, and as he pulls me flush
against him, his lips find their way to my mouth. The gentle sweep of his tongue as it slips between my lips and tangles with mine immediately weakens my knees, causing me to fall even further into him.

  Adam and I have been together for six years, yet the way he kisses me and the tingly sensation that rushes down my spine as he does, feels as alive and new as it did that very first time.

  Breaking our connection, he pulls back, his eyes alight with a sparkle that has my heart bursting with an emotion I can't even begin to describe. Silently, he takes my hand in his, entwining our fingers as he drags me along to the house we now get to call home, and as we reach the front door, he stops. He pivots on his heels and stares down at me, his hand coming up to tuck a lock of my hair behind my ear. The words that leave his mouth pierce through my chest and weave themselves around my heart.

  “My heart belongs to you, Cass. Always forever.”

  “And mine to you, Adam. Forever always.”

  THAT WEAK AND tired feeling, the one you get after waking up from crying yourself to sleep, has been one that I’ve experienced nearly every morning for the past sixteen months. One would think I’d be used to it by now, but I’m not.

  I’m not sure I ever will be.

  Swinging my legs off the couch, I force myself into a sitting position and run my hands through my unruly hair, matted from a night’s worth of tears. I attempt to comb out the tangles and give up fairly quickly when I realize the need is pointless. I have no plans of going anywhere today, and the characters in the book I’m currently reading have no way of knowing what kind of hot mess I am at the moment. Pushing myself from the couch, I venture the few steps into the kitchen. The wood floor is cool beneath my feet, and as I grab the empty coffee pot and fill it with water, I make a mental note to slip into a pair of socks and adjust the thermostat. October seems to have swept in out of nowhere, although, when your days run together and you lose all sense of time, I suppose paying attention to the months isn't something that really crosses your mind.

  At least for me, anyway.

  I quickly start the coffee machine and then head down the hallway, retrieving a pair of socks from the clean laundry basket on top of the dryer and turning the heat up a few notches to remove the cool autumn chill. As I make my way back for my cup of coffee, I dance around on one foot in order to pull my socks on my feet, and the doorbell rings. My heart jumps against my ribs, feeling as though it's about to beat right out of my chest, and my voice is riddled with curiosity as it floats from my mouth.

  “Ye—yeah… Who is it?”

  “Cass, it's me.”

  Air seeps from my lungs on a sigh of relief as I hear Jenny’s voice, echoing through the solid oak.

  “Jen?” Hurrying over to the door, I slide the lock free from its hold and step back, opening it to reveal a fully dressed and beaming Jenny. “What are you doing here?”

  She brushes past me, welcoming herself into my house, her arms folded tightly across her chest and a concerned expression on her face. “I didn't hear from you last night and you didn't answer my calls or texts this morning. I was worried about you.” Walking over and leaning against the arm of my couch, she regards me cautiously, her eyes flicking over me as if she is searching for her answers before I’ve even given them to her. “You okay? I take it last night didn't go—”

  “As planned?” I frown and shake my head, pushing the door closed. “No. Not at all. Not unless your idea of ‘going as planned’ is crying alone in a dark, vacant alleyway.”

  As the words leave my mouth, a humorless laugh forces its way out, and my frown slips even further at my inability to be normal, to process my grief in a healthy way. My gaze drops to the floor as I toe imaginary specks of dirt on the small area rug beneath my feet.

  “Oh, sweetie.” Jenny's voice grabs me. “Look, you went, okay? It took a lot of courage to even show up there. I'm so proud of you for taking that step.”

  A swell of emotion clogs my throat making it impossible to speak, and I lift my head, giving my sister a curt nod and willing the corner of my eyes to stop their incessant need to prickle. Damnit. I'm so tired of crying. Tired of being broken.

  “Are you doing anything today? Ryan has decided to take the kids to the zoo. So, I was sort of hoping we could have a sister day? Grab a cup of coffee and then maybe see a movie or something?”

  I twist my lips to the side, contemplating her request. While going out was the last thing on my to-do list today, I could really use a change of scenery. And spending time with Jenny these days is more times than not, a rarity. I nod my head in agreement and toss my thumb over my shoulder in the direction of my bedroom. “Yeah, okay. I just need to shower and get ready.”

  She smiles softly. “No hurry. Take your time. I’ll just sit here and wait.”

  THE AIR TODAY is even colder than it was yesterday, and as we stroll down the sidewalk, appreciating the beautiful colors of the trees’ changing leaves, I adjust my scarf to block out the bitter wind.

  “So, where are we going again?”

  Jenny’s hand hovers over her eyes, shielding them from the sun’s early morning rays. “There is a coffee shop I’ve been dying to go to for the longest time. They supposedly have the best pumpkin spice lattes in town. Ryan stops in from time to time. It’s only a few more blocks down.”

  “Did they just open?” I ask, not sure why I am now just hearing of this place. I have lived in this town for nearly eight years, and my need for caffeine after so many restless nights has ensured that I have visited every coffee shop there is.

  She shakes her head. “No. They’ve been open for a while, actually. Just one of those hidden gems that only the locals seem to know about.”

  “Locals, huh?” My mouth quirks up. “So then, what the hell are we?”

  Jenny laughs, the sound echoing softly as we continue our journey across town, our hands shoved in our pockets and our breath forming small clouds of mist. “Clueless… that would make us completely clueless.”

  Allowing the grin that has been playing at my lips for the last fifteen minutes take over, I shake my head and thread my arm through hers. We share a few more light-hearted laughs, stopping only when we’ve reached the front door of the small cafe. Tucked in a small row of shops, far enough away from the busy streets, the glass-windowed building sits. I tilt my head back in order to read the hand-painted sign hanging above us.

  “The Hideout… well, if that couldn’t be any more accurate.”

  Jenny tugs me along. “Come on, let’s go.”

  The bell overhead chimes as she pulls open the door, and as we step foot inside—my hands coming up to remove my scarf—we’re instantly greeted by the smell of coffeehouse delights. I inhale deeply, my stomach grumbling with the need to suddenly be filled with whatever deliciousness this little shop has to offer.

  Jenny looks over at me. Her lips spread across her face, and then she moves. I fall in step behind her as we navigate through the small round tables occupied with people, my eyes roaming over the uniquely decorated interior. Red brick walls, and warm, soft lighting provide a comfort that is different from most of the upscale coffee shops around town. Black metal fixtures hang from the ceiling and hand-made artwork covers the walls.

  Reaching the bar, we each pull out a stool and shrug off our jackets, draping them on the back of our chairs.

  “Good morning, ladies.”

  Our attention shifts to the elderly woman working behind the counter. Her silver hair twisted in a high bun and a warm smile on her face, she quickly wipes the space in front of us clean and lays down two cardboard coasters.

  “What can I get you this morning?”

  Jenny pipes up, resting her arms on the wood and clasping her hands out in front of her as she orders for the both of us. “I’ll take a pumpkin spice latte and she’ll have a hazelnut coffee.”

  “You’ve got it.” Tossing us another cheerful smile, the barista—who I’m beginning to think may be the shop owner—turns on her heels and
starts on our orders, continuing to talk to us over her shoulder. “Not sure I’ve seen your lovely faces in here before. Is this your first time joining us?”

  “It is, actually,” Jenny replies, dominating the conversation like she always does, and I feel a bit of relief that she is. Creating small talk isn’t something I excel in, not before Adam, and certainly not after.

  “Well, we’re glad to have you girls.” She spins back around, setting our drinks down in front of us, a kindness in her gray eyes that permeates the air surrounding her. “My name is Adeline, but everyone calls me Addy.”

  Jenny proceeds to introduce us, and after taking a sip of my coffee, I hold out my hand for Addy to shake.

  “You girls need anything at all, don’t be afraid to let me know, okay?”

  I nod, a friendly, but genuine, smile on my lips. “Will do. Thank you, Addy.”

  Within moments, she is on the move, working the counter and speaking to the customers who continue to filter in and out of the front door. Hope blooms in my chest as I sit sipping my coffee, a huge part of me glad I accepted my sister’s offer to come out. I miss spending time with her. I miss this sort of normal. Rising to my feet, I smooth my hands over the front of my jeans and lean in close to Jenny’s ear, excusing myself to the restroom so I can wash my hands before eating the muffin Jenny ordered for us to share. She nods, and as she continues to spark conversations with the people beside her, I work my way toward the back of the shop where the bathrooms are located. My eyes continue to roam, drinking their fill of the cozy little cafe and its array of diverse patrons, from the elderly couples enjoying their morning coffee, to the college students trying to recover from their Friday night party hangovers.

  Not paying mind to the steps I am taking, I’m nearly knocked on my backside as I walk straight into a wall of firm muscle. A spicy musk fills my nose, the smell oddly familiar. Warm hands reach out to steady me, gently clasping my elbows, and as I find my footing, I tilt my head back to catch a glimpse of the stranger I have so rudely collided into.