Butterflies & Characters

by Liz Hsu

  My ma smiled and approached the bed. “How are you feeling?”

  “Not too bad. I’m actually just a little tired.” She tried to grin, but I could tell it was forced. When she really smiled, her eyes lit up. A real Ray smile made your breath catch.

  “We brought you a friend.” I held out the stuffed husky dog.

  She reached out and snuggled it like a little girl. Something about it tugged my heart, reminding me she was just a fifteen-year-old in a hospital bed—younger than me, even.

  “I remembered you saying how much you liked dog sledding with your dad,” I whispered into the quiet of the room.

  She squeezed the husky before looking up with bright eyes on the verge of tears. “Thank you.”

  My cheeks warmed at how happy she was, and her dad must have heard emotion in her voice because he took control of the conversation.

  After about an hour, during which we learned she’d be there a few more days, Ray yawned, and we said our goodnights.

  “See you tomorrow,” I said, wanting her to know she wouldn’t be alone with just her dad the next day.

  Her smile summoned something warm but sad inside my chest. I couldn’t imagine being sick this far from one’s friends. She looked so fragile and alone, and I could only leave knowing I’d be back tomorrow and that her doctors were taking good care of her.

  When we got home, I felt heavyhearted in a way I shouldn’t have for an acquaintance I saw a few times a year. Was it because she was even younger than me, or was it seeing her in the hospital that bothered me so much?

  I picked up my electric guitar and strummed through our most recent songs, but I wasn’t in the mood for their peppy rhythms. After a few minutes of deliberation, I switched to Pink Floyd and thumped out “Comfortably Numb” with its long guitar solo, before I turned off the amplifier and traded my electric guitar for the acoustic, which always sounded better when I felt moody. Continuing with Pink Floyd’s “Wish You Were Here,” I hummed the lyrics.

  As the chords drew to a melancholy end, my eyes shut too. I felt haunted, even now, by the sadness penetrating Ray’s eyes. Almost of their own accord, my fingers switched to “Behind Blue Eyes” by The Who.

  After that, I decided to call it quits for the night. I felt something close to moisture in my eyes but couldn’t force myself to play anything happier.

  I sat wiggling my freezing toes in Dr. Murray’s office for the second time in a week. Finally, on Saturday, five days after being admitted, I was able to simply rest at the condo instead of being medically monitored at the hospital. Most of it had been lonely and boring, but at least Charles had visited me after work every day. He’d even sent me an e-gift card so I could buy more books on my Kindle as I lay in bed.

  The fluid around my heart had finally started to reabsorb, but I had a lot of follow-ups and monitoring scheduled and was supposed to take it easy. Steroids for a few months, one lupus medication forever, and an immunosuppressant for months to indefinitely. I was still so tired. A fatigue unlike anything I’d ever experienced, except for the last two weeks. Eighty-five percent of lupus patients, apparently, complained about fatigue, so maybe this was just the new normal. And all the pills; I was on so many friggin’ pills.

  This was my last check-up before I’d go home to Savannah on Wednesday, the day after tomorrow. Clearly, we’d missed our trip to Stockholm. Dad had managed to get a refund from the airlines, so I felt a little less guilty, but still terrible he couldn’t go home this summer because of me.

  I wasn’t sure if I’d be going home to Georgia on Wednesday at all, or be able to travel alone with how I felt, but I was supposed to start junior year on August 1st—Thursday. I wasn’t up to starting school. There was still fluid around my heart, and the walk to the doctor’s office from the car had been brutal. Island High was a huge school, and the mere thought of all that walking had me sinking deeper onto the exam table.

  I hadn’t mentioned it to Dad, but I was terrified to go back home. Savannah wasn’t a small town, but Grandpapa, my great grandad, had to go to Jacksonville for his Prostate Cancer treatment, because they hadn’t liked the options in Savannah. I’d seen the awards lining the hallways—the University of Michigan was a top center for rheumatology. I knew how much Mom hated taking me to do anything. If I ended up needing to go to a big city—Jacksonville, two hours away—I’d never hear the end of it. I’d need chest X-rays for a while, frequent rheumatology visits, and apparently biannual eye exams. I plucked at the disposable paper strip under me, trying not to rip it to shreds. All of that, even if it was at one of Savannah hospitals, would be a decent drive from our island home. I couldn’t imagine if I ended up needing to do all that in Jacksonville. Mom would skin me alive.

  My stepdad, Mark, was a dentist, and Mom worked part-time for him. I’d heard them complain about our insurance before, when my half-sister Mary Beth had to see an allergist. I dreaded the day my hospital bills came in. I hoped Mom wouldn’t be too hard on me when I went home—I couldn’t help any of this, but I knew it’d be a big burden.

  The door opened. “How are you feeling, Ray?” Dr. Ezra asked as he, a resident, and a medical student who’d seen me in the hospital all crowded into the exam room.

  “I’m feeling fine, thank you.”

  “Fine” wasn’t a medical term, so he continued what I’d come to realize was a routine rheumatology exam. “Do you have any joint pain today?”

  “No,” I answered truthfully. Between the NSAIDs and steroids, the inflammation in my joints wasn’t too bad right now.

  “And how is the dyspnea? How many stops did you make on the trip from the car to the office?”

  The paper under me ripped audibly as my nerves got the better of me. “We stopped four times,” I said with a shrug. “It’s better than last week.”

  He quizzed the medical student about how long the pericarditis could take to resolve in lupus. The student didn’t know, but the female resident answered it would be a few more weeks.

  Dr. Ezra tested every joint and felt over my internal organs for inflammation. After we discussed my chart, which included more quizzing of the medical student and resident, he talked to Dad and me about my follow-up. Then we waited for Dr. Murray.

  “Ray,” Dad said softly when they left. “Sweetheart.” He paused again and scratched his neck. I hadn’t noticed until recently that it was something he did when he got nervous. We’d never had this much one-on-one time; usually, we visited my grandparents, aunts and uncles, and cousins when we were together. “School starts a month later here, and the healthcare is really great.” He blurted it out, not sounding at all like the refined professor I knew.

  Then he sighed and started again, more slowly this time. “What I’m hinting at is I’d like you to live with me, at least for a semester. Your school starts on August first, and the local high school here starts September fifth. You could use a little more time to take it easy, and I can get you switched to my insurance. I work for the university, so we’ll have better healthcare options for you, and these doctors,” he gestured to the door, “they know your case.”

  Eerily, the door started opening, but then stopped as I heard the student ask Dr. Murray a question. I’d gotten to know Dad better during this visit, but so much remained a mystery. For example, he’d been dating his girlfriend for five years, and I’d never even met her except a rare hello on video chats.

  “Um, can I let you know tomorrow?”

  I was still exhausted to the point where I could barely think. My face had finally lost its rash and my joints weren’t aching, but I was still bone-weary and short of breath. Dr. Ezra had said my disease was still “active.” It would be nice to have a few more weeks off, but what about my life back home? I had a guilty, fleeting thought of my friends and Ross, but I was annoyed that he’d barely called me in the hospital. Sure, we were more an in-person couple and rarely talked on the
phone, even back home, but that had hurt.

  “Sure thing.” Dad took my hand. “We’ll get everything scheduled like you’ll stay, but I can cancel if it feels like too much. I just want what’s best for you, Ray. I think this and a little rest would be best for you.”

  My eyes gathered dangerous moisture as I squeezed his hand back. The only good thing about this experience was Dad. Having him come out and say that Mom had basically been lying to me my whole life was hard. Right now I was as angry as a hive of hornets at her; just thinking about her made me practically buzz.

  Things had always been a little strained with Dad. I’d believed he’d preferred an abortion and barely tolerated me. I’d thought he never truly wanted me in his life. Yet here he was, asking me to live with him. It wasn’t what I’d been taught. He wasn’t who I thought he was.

  I squeezed his hand again and dropped it. It would be nice to spend more time with him, but I wanted to sleep on it. My whole life was in Savannah, along with all my friends and half-siblings. Even if they were pests sometimes, they were my blood too.

  So I just nodded before Dr. Murray entered, confirming everything Dr. Ezra had said and telling us she’d see me next week.

  We stopped by the front desk to make a follow-up chest X-ray and rheumatology appointment for next week, but Dad whispered to me in Swedish that we could cancel if needed.

  He dropped me off at home so he could run some errands, and I headed into my bedroom, feeling lost. I rummaged through my stuff to find my sketchbook, rubber eraser, pencils, and vine charcoal sticks. I sprawled out on my belly on the wood floor with them. Finally, my fingers felt normal enough to hold a pencil. If I couldn’t run yet, at least I could do this. I slipped on my headphones and turned on some alternative folk music as I flipped through a magazine until I found a perfume advertisement I wanted to draw, and started sketching.

  This was my release. As the white page became smears of gray and black, the moody tempos and questions in my mind swirled like a kaleidoscope until there was nothing left but pressing and smudging. It felt cathartic to draw instead of thinking about what the heck was happening in my life.

  My phone ringing startled me, Jeffery’s photo appearing onscreen and interrupting the music. “Hello,” I said, a little husky after having been silent for hours.

  “Rayanne!” Jeffery’s cheerful voice boomed. He didn’t give me a second to respond before asking, “How was the doctor?”

  I breathed in and looked down at my mournful sketch. My version of the ad didn’t look sultry, just sad. Jeffery. Until recently, I thought some of my new girlfriends or Ross might have become closer to me than my childhood playmate, but no. He’d been loyal and steadfast—like he always had been—as I’d been in the hospital, unlike everyone else. He’d liked me long before Carolyn and the popular girls did. None of them had even known who I was before Ross had shown an interest in me.

  “Dad asked me to live with him,” I whispered, almost like it wasn’t real. “School here starts September fifth, so I’ll have a whole month to recover, and my doctors are here. He said I could stay a semester or however long I wanted.” I paused, looking at my charcoal-covered fingers. I hoped I hadn’t touched anything it wouldn’t come out of. When I drew, a passion awoke in me, and I couldn’t contain the urge to smudge and smear life onto the page.

  Jeffery was silent for an uncomfortable beat. “I wish you would. Ray Ray, when you texted me those websites, it was scary. Dr. Brown said you were fine. I will miss you more than you can imagine, but it’s just one semester. It’ll be over before you know it. And whenever someone mentions your dad, you look like someone emerging from the desert and Dr. Ericson is water. When my dad used to fix your bike, you’d get this look in your eyes and, well, honey, I’ve been to your house enough to know Mark is not your dad. I think this would be healthy for you, and not just because of your lupus.”

  Jeff’s dad had honestly been more of a dad to me than Mark ever was. “I know. I’ll get to know my own dad.” With a deep breath, I told him, “Jeff, my mom lied to me. I’m so furious, so maybe it’ll be good not to see her. My grandparents sent her money. He couldn’t get a visa to move to America before he finished his degree—”

  “What?! You aren’t pulling my leg, are you?” He sounded almost as angry as I was. “Why would she do that?”

  “I don’t know,” I choked out. “I’m sure Ross will dump me when I tell him I’m not coming back next month. I don’t even think I want to be with him anymore. I’ve been thinking about our conversation. Thanks again for talking to me after the beach. I don’t know if I can be with someone who doesn’t respect my choices.” Dad’s words from the hospital came back to me: It was her body. Just like what happens to your body should be your decision. I didn’t want to have to keep saying no; Ross should just wait till I said otherwise.

  “Ray,” he said hesitantly in a way I associated with bad news. “I thought you guys already broke up?”

  “Why do you say that?” I knelt and gripped my knee, then frowned as my smudged hands left black bruise-like spots. When he didn’t answer immediately, I was forced to say, “Jeffery Lee Willis, you’d better tell me, or I’ll come down there and so help me!”

  He laughed. “Okay, okay. Carolyn’s just been really flirty. Ross hasn’t done anything, not that I’ve seen. But the way she was acting, I thought maybe—”

  “Carolyn?”

  He cleared his throat. “You know how I feel about that two-faced bitch.”

  “H-E-double-hockey-sticks! You’re joshing me, right?” My leg pinched painfully, and I heard the pop of my charcoal pencil breaking. Holy guacamole, those were expensive.

  “I always told you what kind of girl I thought she was. But I don’t think they’ve actually done anything.”

  “Not yet,” I grit out. “She knew I was in the hospital.” I rolled the broken ends of the pencil back and forth. Back and forth. I barely had any girlfriends, since I’d been a tomboy when I was little and only had Jeff. Then I was shy. But I’d hoped Carolyn genuinely cared about me, in her own way. Sure she hadn’t been the greatest, but she’d helped teach me how to style my hair and even given me her old straightener. Evidently, I was wrong.

  “Is it such a bad thing, if you’re going to stay up there?”

  I didn’t respond. Ross and Carolyn made me so furious I thought about using some real curse words, not my made-up ones. Instead, I just rolled the pencil, trying to calm down.

  “Look, Ray Ray, I know the guy is what every girl wants to look at, I’m comfortable enough with myself to say that. But honey, he didn’t treat you like you deserve. Even before you said what you did, I could see that.”

  “I need to go. My dad’s calling,” I said quickly before my anger faded into tears.

  I’d thought my relationship with Ross was special. He had always told me how pretty I was. When we went out, he never flirted with anyone else. Ever. I didn’t think it was quite love, but it’d been nice, whatever it was. Worse, despite Jeffery’s warnings, I’d thought Carolyn was my friend. I was going to be sick for the rest of my life.

  Suddenly, it was all just too much. I struggled to suck in a breath.

  “Honey, don’t lie to me.” Jeffery’s voice was soft but steady. “We can talk later. Go draw it out. Heck, honey, even cry it out. But don’t make your decision based on him. Get better and get to know your dad, then come back for the second half of senior year with me. It’ll be like old times, Bonnie and Clyde-style.”

  Despite everything, he made me laugh. “Thanks, Jeff. And thanks for being honest with me. Please always be real with me. Don’t take this the wrong way, but lying in the hospital makes me want to say it: I love you. You are more than a friend—you’re my family.” I looked at the ceiling so I wouldn’t cry. “You’ve been there for me when everyone else I thought was my friend hasn’t.”

  “Aw, Ray Ray, honey, I
love you too. Get better so I can see you and squeeze the shit out of you.” He couldn’t resist trying to lighten the mood, but I heard the tension in his voice.

  I laughed like he wanted me to and said, “Byyyyyyye,” before hanging up.

  I looked down at my melancholy figure drawing with haunted eyes, flopped down on my belly again, and continued shading. My moody mix started up again. I decided I’d probably listen to the two guys I considered family above all else—Dad and Jeff—but I just wanted to pour my frustration, loneliness, and sadness into this paper for a little longer.

  For what felt like the hundredth time, I reread my message asking Ray to watch my band play tomorrow before she went home. She hadn’t responded, but I couldn’t blame her. Annoyed at myself, I closed it and read through some more of the medical journals Baba had sent me. I thought I was fairly intelligent, but the articles were confusing and complex. I’d been too busy and overwhelmed to have read too far. But I had twenty more minutes left of my lunch break, so I reopened one.

  I became so lost in it that I had to pull myself away from my phone to go back to work. SLE was a top ten killer of women aged fifteen to twenty-four. Ray had been released from the hospital, so she couldn’t be dying—yet. Beads of sweat dampened my shirt and made it cling to my back. Suddenly the phone was slippery in my perspiring hands. I didn’t want Ray to have this, especially not forever.

  When I walked into the house that afternoon, Ma was in the kitchen making tea. “Is Ray doing okay?” I asked. “She never texted me back.”

  Ma pursed her lips and poured a second cup of tea from the water boiler. She motioned for me to sit down. “Ray is doing fine, but Professor Ericson wants her to stay in Michigan. She’s considering it, so maybe that’s why she hasn’t written you back.”

  She’s considering it! My stomach rolled at the thought of Ray living here.

  “It’s a lot to move like that. She has to leave her mom, stepdad, and siblings.” She had a faraway look in her eyes, and I wondered if she was remembering her move from Taipei or stories of my grandparents’’ expatriation from China in the 1950s. “She has to leave her friends and school. I think she will stay, because it’s the smart thing and she’s a smart girl, but…” She shrugged and left it unsaid. It’s hard.