Butterfly Girl

by Wayne Purdy

  He scoffed. “I doubt that. Did she tell that she killed someone?”

  A frisson of surprise surged through me. “She told me everything.” I repeated, but even I heard the skepticism in my voice.

  The bus driver poked his head in through the glass doors. “That’s it. I’ve got a schedule to keep. I’m leaving,” he yelled.

  “One second,” Eddie said. He put a couple bills into the kiosk, and it spit out his ticket. I sighed. I really thought I could change his mind. Then he bent down and hugged Jaime. “Hector is going to take you home.”

  She let go of his hand and took mine. Eddie handed the driver the ticket as he boarded the bus, turning to give his daughter a sad wave. She waved back. I stood with her as the bus pulled away, the windows were tinted and we couldn’t see him, but I told her he was still waving goodbye.

  After the bus was gone, she looked up at me. “Did my daddy just beat you up?”

  “Yeah,” I said. “He did.” We watched as the rear lights faded into the dark night sky.

  11

  Hazel

  Hazel sat on the well-worn sofa in Hector’s apartment. It was a sparsely furnished space that ran the full length of the bar downstairs; it had a kitchen, living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom. In fact, the second, smaller bedroom wasn’t even used. Heck kept the door closed. The apartment was lightly decorated, and the artwork on the walls looked like it came from IKEA, tasteful, but not terribly original. Something that caught her eye on the coffee table beside the sofa. It was a statuette roughly a foot tall. She picked it up. It looked like a primitive sculpture, a man with long robes carved into a hollow nook in a rock. It was heavy too, made from limestone. It was beautiful in its way, and the one piece of décor that seemed to have some meaning.

  She dabbed at her tears. She had never exposed herself to anyone like that before, which was ironic considering her job. She had never told anyone else her story before. It was too shameful. She still hadn’t shared it all. She held back the worst bits. The bits that even she couldn’t forgive.

  The phone sat on the chipped coffee table. She ran out of people to call. She couldn’t believe Eddie could do this to her. He knew it hurt her and he still did it. She hated him, and that was something she didn’t think was possible. She thought Eddie would always be a part of her life, now she never wanted to see him again.

  Hazel went into the kitchen and searched the cupboards for a glass, finding one, she filled

  it with cool water from the sink. On the counter, she spotted Heck’s notes and curiosity got the better of her. She opened the manilla folder and shrieked. A photo of a dead girl sat at the top of a stack of documents. She closed the folder quickly. What the hell? After a few seconds, she gingerly opened the folder again. It took a few minutes, but eventually she was able to look at the grisly image without swallowing bile. She was able to adopt a clinical, detached attitude. It’s just a picture, she repeated over and over like a mantra. It’s just a picture.

  On closer inspection, Hazel realised that it wasn’t a woman at all. It was a transsexual and the blood around the crotch was because his penis had been cut off. The body lay on a bright blanket, his arms and legs spread eagle. Hazel wondered if he had been killed like that or was he posed? It seemed a strange way for a body to come to rest naturally. The image looked like a display, like there was some meaning behind it. The realisation made her sick, but she continued looking. She found a stack of five more photos. She thumbed through them. A thought occurred to her and she assembled them into chronological order. The first one was of the transsexual completely wrapped in a khaki blanket, with only his head showing. She arranged them all as the murdered man was unwrapped, until the last image revealed him in his final stage.

  She gasped. Could that be it? It seemed so simple now that she laid out the six photos in progression. The man wasn’t murdered. He was transformed. She wondered if Heck noticed it. She didn’t know what to do. He would know she was snooping, and that felt like a small betrayal, especially after everything he had done for her. She gathered the photos and returned them to the file. She felt a pang of guilt. She momentarily forgot about her missing daughter. What kind of mother could do that?

  She read the notes Heck had written and saw the files with the Canadian Armed Forces letterhead. The military document wasn’t helpful. It was mostly redacted. That didn’t seem fair to Hazel. Heck was trying to solve a murder, that much was obvious, and it looked like the government was blocking him. She realised that he was looking into two separate murders. The photos were from a recent murder. She heard about it on the news. The military documents were from a long time ago when Heck was still in the army. Hazel could see that these two murders were similar. Were they linked?

  The door to Heck’s apartment opened, and Heck came in, holding Jaimie in his arms. The girl had her head resting against her head. She was sound asleep.

  “Jaime,” Hazel said, rushing towards them. Tears ran down her cheeks as she tried to embrace her daughter. Heck was caught up in the hug too, but no one seemed to mind.

  Jaimie stirred and looked at her mother. “Momma?” she said in a sleep-drenched voice.

  “I’m here, Pookie.”

  “Daddy beat up Hector.”

  Hazel looked at Hector with confusion. Hector gave her a crooked grin.

  “She’s tired,” Heck said. “I’m going to put her in my bed.” Hazel followed and tucked her in after Heck gently laid her down.

  “Sleep tight,” Hazel whispered.

  She followed Heck into the living room, leaving the bedroom door open a sliver. Hazel nearly tackled Heck, hugging him tightly. “Thank you, Heck.”

  “I was glad to help,” Heck said. She remained in his arms. She liked how safe it felt. She brought her forefinger and ran it along his broken lip. The bleeding was staunched, but a cut remained.

  “Did he really hit you?”

  “He needed to let out his anger. Feel like he was in control.”

  “You let him hit you?”

  Heck shrugged. Hazel pulled in closer and she could feel him closing the gap. She parted her lips slightly, ready to meet his, but he suddenly broke the embrace.

  “Hazel, Eddie said something.”

  Hazel tensed in his arms. “What did he say?” Her face was ashen.

  “He said that I don’t know you. The real you.”

  She turned her head away, refusing to meet his gaze.

  “He said you killed someone. A boy.”

  Hazel forced a laugh. “That’s ridiculous. I told you all my secrets. Wasn’t that enough?”

  “Is it true?”

  “Of course not,” she said. She sounded haughty, but then continued in a whisper. “Everyone has secrets.”

  Neither one of them had anything else to say. “I should call Regards,” he said, pulling his phone from his pocket. “He’ll be worried.”

  Hazel moved away. “It’s been a long night.” She yawned. “Could you call me a cab?”

  “You and Jaimie can share my bed. I’ll take the couch. I can bring you home in the morning.”

  “I don’t want to impose.”

  “It’s no biggie. You said it yourself, its been a long night. Besides, Jaimie’s already asleep. Its probably better that she isn’t woken up again.”

  “Thanks, Heck,” Hazel said. She went back into the bedroom and curled up beside her sleeping daughter.

  ◆◆◆

  The next morning, Hazel woke to the smell of fresh coffee and pastries. Heck had already been up and went to a nearby bakery and brought back something to eat.

  “What’s all this?” Hazel asked, wiping the sleep from her eyes. She didn’t take off her makeup before she went to sleep, and her face was a mess. Heck was already dressed in shorts and a polo. She pushed everything from the night before from her mind.

  “Breakfast,” Heck said.

  Jaimie came bounding out of the bedroom with the sort of early morning energy that only a child could acces
s. “Donuts!” she exclaimed, picking a chocolate dipped from the box. She sat on the sofa, happily munching away.

  “You didn’t have to do this,” Hazel said. She chose a cherry Danish for herself.

  Heck took a big bite from a honey cruller. “What are you doing today?”

  “Nothing. I have to go to the grocery store, but that’s it.”

  “What’s this?” Jaimie said, trying to lift the statuette.

  “Jaimie, don’t touch.”

  “It’s fine,” Heck said, he walked over and helped the girl lift it. “It’s pretty sturdy. I don’t think she can hurt it.”

  “What is it?” Hazel asked. “I was admiring it last night.”

  “It’s called the Bamiyan Buddha. There were two of them, carved into a niche in the side of a cliff in Afghanistan. The biggest one was a hundred and seventy feet tall. I got this guy when I was there.

  “What do you mean there were two of them? What happened to them?”

  “The Taliban didn’t like them because they said they were false idols. They blew them up.”

  “That’s terrible,” Hazel said. “All that history gone just like that.” She snapped her fingers.

  “I think you two need a day off after all the excitement yesterday,” he said, steering the conversation back towards Hazel’s plans for the day. He looked at Jaimie. She showed no signs that she needed a day off. She was tracing her finger along the form of the Buddha. “Well, maybe you do,” he amended.

  “What have you got in mind?” Hazel’s curiosity was piqued.

  “It’s no big deal. My family is having a barbecue today. I’d forgotten all about it. My sister sent me a text to remind me. What do you say? You want to eat some over-cooked burgers and swim all day?”

  Jaimie looked up. “Swim? I want to go swimming.”

  “I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” Hazel said.

  “Sure, it is. I have some nieces and nephews so Jaimie will have other kids to play with. You can relax. Have a couple drinks. I’ll bring you home after.”

  Hazel’s mood lightened. They could use a break. “We’ll have to go to my place first. I need a shower and we’ll need to pack a few things.”

  “No problem.”

  They pulled into his parent’s driveway a few hours later. The Collins’s home was a modest two-storey with a brick façade in a cookie-cutter neighbourhood. The lawn was green and the perennial garden well-kept and thriving, with pops of colourful begonias and petunias strategically planted to give the yard a little oomph. Judging from the cars already parked in the driveway, Hazel guessed that others were already present at the barbeque. Heck parked close behind a Hyundai. There were also two newer model cars, one an SUV and the other was a make that Hazel didn’t recognise. The last vehicle was almost as big an eye sore as Heck’s VW Thing. Almost. It was a white, rusted, dirty cargo van. A membrane of grime coated the windshield, so thick that it seemed impossible to see through. Big, green letters on the side of the van read; Collins Lawn Care.

  Heck opened the door for Jaime and lifted the girl out of the car. She looked at the house with undisguised admiration. Jaimie had only ever lived in apartments. She had never been to an actual house in the suburbs. For her, this may as well have been Buckingham Palace. “Are you rich?” She asked with the sort of unabashed, unfiltered questioning that only children and mothers-in-law can muster.

  “Jaime! That’s not polite.”

  “Sorry,” Jaimie said, although her body language suggested that she wasn’t. Her eyes were saucer-wide, taking in the house, the neighbour’s house, and the quiet, tree-lined street. She could scarcely believe that there could be a whole street without traffic. The street she and her mother lived on was bustling with urban energy; cars, buses, people, neon lights, emergency vehicles screeching by at all hours.

  “Not rich,” Heck said. “Just well-off, I suppose.”

  Hazel had grown up in poverty. Her family didn’t have two nickels to rub together. They got by and never went hungry but didn’t have money for new clothes or toys. Her mother was adept at picking treasures from thrift stores, elevating it to an art form. Hazel was determined to give Jaimie a better life, and she had, but they were a far cry from ‘well-off’. Middle class was a dream. Attainable, possibly, but a dream none-the-less.

  From the backyard, Hazel heard the sound of children at play. Jaimie heard it too and quickened her pace. Hector carried the sack of potatoes and led his guests to the side gate and into the backyard. If Jaimie was impressed with the front yard, the back yard blew her mind. The gate led directly into a large stone patio replete with outdoor wicker furniture and a large propane grill. Beyond the patio was the pool. It was in-ground and surrounded by a concrete deck with various seating areas all around. There were several children in the water, playing Marco Polo. Hazel counted three, possibly four. Little heads kept disappearing at one end only to reappear at the opposite. An older woman, Hector’s mother, Hazel guessed, stood and waved.

  “Hector,” she called, walking towards them. She was short and slender, almost elfin, with steel gray hair and twinkling green eyes. She wore her hair up, and a pair of eyeglasses were perched on her head like a tiara. She wore a one piece underneath a sarong and a pair of flip flops. She embraced Heck. It struck Hazel as funny that this tiny woman could have ever birthed the large man currently in her embrace. “I’m glad you could make it.”

  “Hi Mom,” Hector said. “This is my friend, Hazel and her daughter, Jaimie. I invited them over. Hope it’s okay.”

  Hazel was mortified. She assumed that Hector had asked to bring guests, but if it was a problem, Mrs. Collins never let on. “Of course,” she said, her smile beaming. “Your friends are always welcome here.” She shook Hazel’s hand.

  “It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Collins.”

  “Pish. It’s Annie.” Then she called her husband over. “Harry, come over and meet Hector’s friend.” The way she said ‘friend’ signalled to Hazel, and probably everyone else too, that she hoped that they were more than friendly.

  “Right,” Harry said, as he slid off the chaise lounge. He sauntered over with a beer in his hand. He was a hugger, and soon Hazel was caught up in his embrace. He smelled of summer, like freshly mown grass, coconut sunscreen, and his natural musk. It wasn’t unpleasant. “It’s nice to meet you.”

  Annie bent down to meet Jaimie’s eyes. “And who are you?”

  “Jaimie,” she said in a tiny voice.

  “And how old are you, Jaimie?” Annie asked.

  “Five.”

  “Five!” Annie repeated in mock astonishment. “I have three grandsons swimming in the pool that are your age, and a granddaughter a little older. Want to meet them?” Jaimie slipped her hand into Annie’s, allowing herself to be led towards the pool. She was already wearing her bathing suit, a cute, pink, one piece emblazoned with Ariel from The Little Mermaid. Hector and Hazel followed. Harry put his arm around his son’s shoulders. She caught a glimpse of what Heck would look like in a decade or two, as if you could chip time away from the older man revealing the younger, the way a sculptor does a block of granite.

  “How are you, Heck? You look tired.”

  “I’m fine. Just had a busy night.” Heck never divulged more than that and Harry never asked. Hazel was grateful. The last thing she wanted was to put her family dysfunction on display, especially because Heck’s family seemed so…perfect.

  “Busy night at the strip club?” He said it conversationally, but it seemed to Hazel that there was something else there too. Disappointment, maybe, or was she reading too much into it? “Maybe it’s time you got out of that business. Never mind the odd hours, you’re wasting your potential. You could be doing more.”

  Hazel winced. She was reluctant to reveal her job. Normally, she wasn’t embarrassed. It paid well, and it supported them, but she was afraid that the Collins’s may look down on her. She found herself wanting their approval.

  You silly girl, she thought. He
’s not interested in you. And if he were, you don’t deserve him. She subconsciously ran her fingers along her scars, reaffirming what she knew in her heart. And yet, he had invited her here, to meet his family. That had to mean something.

  “I tried that, Dad. Remember? Be all you can be. It didn't work out,”

  “Alright,” Harry said. “It’s your life.”

  Once they were on the deck, Hazel was introduced to the rest of the family. There was his older sister, Cass. She was a kindergarten teacher, and she was well suited to tend to children. She kept an eye on the children even as introductions were being made, watching them play. “Stay in the shallow end for now.” Cass barked. Jaimie was in now too, playing with the other kids as if she had grown up with them, so seamless was their play. Cass was blonde with her mother’s green eyes. She wore a black bathing suit that complemented her curves, although black was slimming, Hazel observed, before chiding herself for being catty.

  Cass’s husband, Sam, was a real estate agent. He was tall and lean, with a thatch of wiry chest hair, and a roguish smile. He appraised Hazel with an inconspicuous glare. It was the sort of hungry look she’d gotten from men sitting on Pervert’s Row. She shrugged it off. She’d been eye-fucked enough to know that Sam was harmless. His infidelity ended with his eyes.

  “Pleased to meet you,” Sam said.

  “You too,” she said, ignoring the lingering stare.

  Finally, there was the middle child, Paris. He was shorter than Heck, but stocky. He had the tanned arms and face of a man who worked outdoors, with blond, shoulder length hair and blue eyes. He looked like a surfer. When they shook, Hazel felt his rough, calloused hands. It was like grasping sandpaper. Paris owned the landscaping van in the driveway.

  Paris and Heck fist bumped, and then Heck passed the potatoes off to Cass, which was met with a chorus of laughter. “Great,” mumbled Cass. “You’re taking this home with you.”

  “What am I going to do with ten pounds of potatoes?” Heck asked.

  “What am I going to do?” She asked. “Hazel, you can get changed in the pool house.”