Butterfly

by Sylvester Stephens

  “Everybody is filling our heads with us being too young. But what if they’re wrong, Butterfly? What if we were meant to be together? I don’t have to sow my wild oats to know that I only want you.”

  “Yeah, that ship has already sailed, huh?”

  “Okay, I made a mistake! How long are you going to make me pay?”

  “I’m not trying to make you pay for anything, Jeremy. You cheated on me! I just can’t forgive that. I’m sorry.”

  “Not this time. I’m not accepting no this time. I love you, Butterfly.”

  “I love you, too, but we can’t undo what you did. And I can’t forget it.”

  “You’re right, we can’t undo anything. Just like we can’t undo when we were in that basketball gym and we first laid eyes on each other. Or we can’t undo the first time we kissed. Or we can’t undo the first time I held your hand. We can’t undo any of those things, Butterfly. Nor can we forget them. You wanna know why?”

  “Why?” I said softly.

  “Because you still love me, and I never stopped loving you.” Jeremy kissed me.

  “I want to believe you, Jeremy, but I’m scared. I’m scared as hell!”

  “I’m scared, too! But I’m even more afraid of losing you.”

  “Okay, Jeremy,” I sighed.

  “Okay, what?”

  “Okay, I’m yours. I’m going to trust you with my heart. Please don’t break it.”

  “I won’t...I promise.”

  Jeremy and I stayed up all night talking on the beach. We revealed our most vulnerable secrets, but in a healing way, it was therapeutic. We hung out as much as we could for the remainder of the summer and became even closer.

  In September, I finally fulfilled my dream. I had become what I always wanted to be. Not by becoming an international model and traveling all over the world, but by enrolling as a freshman at Spelman College in Atlanta, Georgia. I’d be lying if I said I didn’t “like” being a model. But the truth of the matter is, I “loved” being a Butterfly!

  About the Author

  Born in Saginaw, Michigan, Sylvester Stephens was introduced to the arts by the entertainment era of his elder siblings. He is the author of The Nature of a Woman, The Nature of a Man, The Office Girls and Our Time Has Come. He lives in the Atlanta area. He is the CEO/owner of “The DEN” (THE DIVERSITY ENTERTAINMENT NETWORK), a new and entertaining network of drama, situation-comedy, talk, and music! The “DEN” premieres August, 2013. Visit sylvesterstephens.com

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  COVER DESIGN BY MARION DESIGNS COVER PHOTOGRAPH BY KEITH SAUNDERS

  IF YOU ENJOYED “BUTTERFLY,” BE SURE TO CHECK OUT

  BY SYLVESTER STEPHENS

  TO SEE HOW IT ALL GOT STARTED!

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  After my insensitive and cruel termination I set out to prove that in corporate America, women would behave in the same manner as men if given the same circumstances. I was pissed off and I blamed every woman on the planet earth for me being fired. My anger sparked me to expose women in all of their glory. I would resurrect my literary career by writing a tell-all book about the corporate battle of women’s sensitivity versus men’s logic, that in the grand scheme of things, women’s sensitivity and men’s logic don’t mean shit! Money and power produce the same result with any gender or any race; greed, selfishness, and cruelty. But before I could do that, I had to find a job that would allow me the research. I needed a female guinea pig that worked in corporate America.

  I bought a Sunday newspaper and half-heartedly browsed through the classified ads, mostly to prove to myself that I was at least making an attempt to get started with the book. I looked back and forth, and back and forth. As luck would have it, I saw an advertisement for a position in an office setting. The ad took up half of the page as if God didn’t want me to miss it. It read, “Upskon Hiring! Claims Dept. Please fax resume to Jaline Dandy.”

  I fell on my knees and shouted, “Thank you, Lord!” I wanted sweet revenge and God seemed to be telling me that vengeance is on the way! I typed up a fake resume and faxed it over immediately. I wanted it to be the first thing this Jaline picked up from the fax machine on Monday morning. After I faxed it, I patiently waited for the confirmation. When it finally came through, I put the newspaper down and turned on the television. I had earned a day of relaxation after all that, and I treated myself to an afternoon of ESPN. I told myself that it was a long shot that they would even respond to my resume so I prepared myself for the disappointment.

  Two days later I received a call from Upskon asking me to come in for an interview. I jumped up and down like a big kid in a candy store. I called them back and confirmed the interview’s day and time. I will never forget my interview. That day started the beginning of my new life, my new life with the office girls of Upskon.

  Jaline Dandy didn’t look anything like I imagined. I imagined her being an old white woman with white hair, with wrinkles around her mouth. Perhaps with a Southern dialect, even though I knew she was from the Northwest. But instead, she was a young-looking, middle- aged woman, moderately attractive, and very articulate.

  “Good afternoon, Mr. Forrester. I’m Ms. Dandy.”

  “Good afternoon, Ms. Dandy.”

  “Any trouble finding us?”

  “No problem at all.”

  “Well, you’re a Harvard man, huh?”

  “Yes, yes, I am.”

  “Why would a Harvard man want to work in a small claims department?”

  “Harvard men have to eat, too,” I said jokingly.

  “I like that attitude.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Well, Mr. Forrester, your resume is quite impressive. And, the position is available. But I must say that with your credentials you are well overqualified. But as you say, you have to eat, too.”

  “I sure do.”

  “Can you start on Monday?”

  “No problem.”

  “Okay, we’ll see you Monday.”

  “That’s it? I got the job?”

  “If you want it, you do.”

  “Sure I do. Thanks, Ms. Dandy.”

  “Welcome aboard,” Jaline said, shaking my hand.

  “Thank you, Ms. Dandy.”

  “Stop with the Ms. Dandy, call me, Jaline.”

  “If you say so, Jaline.”

  “All right, our business here is done,” Jaline said, standing and walking around to the front of her desk. “Tazzy, your supervisor, will meet you on Monday and show you around. That’s it. Guess I’ll see you on Monday.”

  “First thing.”

  I walked out of Jaline’s office, and as I scanned the office with my man radar, all I could see was desk after desk of women. I knew immediately that in order for me to fulfill my mission, I would have to deny the dream of every red-blooded, straight American male. And that is to be the only man on an island of women. This may not have been an island intrinsically, but it was the next best thing.

  I showed up for work on Monday bright and early as promised. I didn’t have a badge so I had to wait until Tazzy showed up. It didn‘t take long before she came strolling up to the door with her arms full of bags. We greeted each other very cordially, and I took the bags out of her arms.

  Tazzy was a petite young lady, who looked as if she was straight out of high school. She was slightly short of five feet tall and a hundred pounds soaking wet. She had beautiful smooth caramel skin. Her hair was short, but cut very neatly. She showed me to my desk and informed me that a lady named Cynthia would be training me. She then showed me to the break room and told me to relax until Cynthia came to get me. One by one the office girls started to arrive for work.

  “Hey, how are you doing?”

  “I’m fine, how are you?” I responded.

  “I’m fine. My name is Virginia. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

&nb
sp; “It’s a pleasure to meet you, too.”

  “And your name is?”

  “Oh, excuse my manners. My name is Michael Forrester,” I said, standing to shake her hand.

  She shook my hand with the grace of an angel and the elegance of a queen. There was something insouciant about this lady. She was middle-aged, maybe late fifties to early sixties. Her hair was white, but her face looked young. She showed no signs of wrinkles on her face. She reminded me of a jazz singer named Nancy Wilson. As she left the break room I couldn’t help but stare.

  Susan, the assistant supervisor, a white lady, came in the break room next and fixed a cup of coffee. Susan had blonde hair, blue eyes, and a thin, tight body. She was about five feet five inches tall, with a high-pitched, squeaky voice that bordered on the verge of annoyance.

  “Hey, are you the new guy?”

  I was tempted to say, “What does it look like, fool?” But instead I courteously replied, “Yes, I’m the new guy.”

  “My name is Susan, and I’m the assistant supervisor here in the office. If there’s anything you need, just let me know.”

  “Thanks.”

  “Not a problem,” Susan said, walking out of the break room.

  I sat twiddling my thumbs for a while when Darsha, Valerie, Lisa and Alicia walked in. They were in full gossip mode. When they saw me sitting at the table they stopped talking and looked at me.

  “Do you work here?” Lisa asked.

  “Yes. Today is my first day.”

  “I’m Alicia. Hi.”

  “Hi, Alicia,” I spoke.

  Alicia was a very attractive light-skinned woman with a perfect thirty-six-twenty-four-thirty-six frame. Maybe even better! She had long golden hair that was pinned up. Her eyes were big and light brown, very welcoming. She was definitely in the wrong business. There was some modeling agency missing a star! It was all I could do to keep from asking her to marry me on the spot. For the life of me, I could not figure out her nationality. Black, Hispanic, biracial, I couldn’t pin it down.

  “Hi, my name is Valerie.”

  “Hi, Valerie, I’m Michael.”

  Valerie was quite tall with long legs, a nice round butt, slim waist and nice pert breasts. Her hair was about shoulder-length and curled underneath. She had a nice dark-brown complexion. She was quite attractive. She was dressed in a man’s suit, which looked very neat on her and business-like. She probably had men lining up to date her.

  “Hey, what’s up? I’m Darsha.”

  “Hey, Darsha, I’m Michael.”

  Darsha was about twenty-two or twenty-three years old. Judging by her attire I could tell she was an active member of the hip-hop culture. That made me wonder what kind of business would hire such a young, inexperienced person. I would find out later that she was very mature and responsible for her age, probably more than I. She was fair-skinned, slim with slender hips, strange-looking eyes, and humorous.

  “Hi, I’m last, but definitely not least. I’m Lisa. How are you?”

  Lisa was what we black people call high-yellow, light-skinned, with short hair, broad shoulders, and broad hips. She was gentle and soft-spoken.

  “I’m fine, Lisa. I’m Michael Forrester.”

  “Who’s training you?” Lisa asked.

  “I think Tazzy said it was someone named Cynthia.”

  “Okay, good to meet you,” Lisa said. “Later, Michael.”

  “Uh, later,” I said.

  They cleared the break room and then Wanda and Pam walked in.

  “Hey, man, you the new dude?” Wanda said, without even looking at me.

  Wanda was tough-looking, with a tough voice. She had big bulging eyes, a deep voice, and a presence, which demanded respect, or she’d kick your ass. She was about five feet six inches tall, a little husky, with a delightfully friendly smile.

  “Yes, I’m the new dude.”

  “I’m Wanda. And that’s Pam,” Wanda said, pointing at Pam.

  “Wanda, I don’t need you to introduce me,” Pam said. “I’m Pam, how are you?”

  Pam was an attractive woman with an athletic build, dark-brown, smooth skin. Nice muscular legs. A protruding round buttock that extended from her body at least twelve inches. Her hair was cut perfectly to match the sculpture of her face.

  “I’m just fine. Good to meet you.”

  Pam and Wanda walked out together. I played with the salt and pepper shakers until Cynthia finally came to get me.

  “Michael?” Cynthia asked, as she peeked her head through the door.

  Cynthia was short, about five feet three inches tall. She was pretty, but in a homely type of way. She wore a long skirt that had to be handed down by her grandmother’s grandmother. It revealed no form of human shape within its wrapping. She wore big glasses that she looked over, instead of through. But despite her outward appearance, she was warm and inviting. Upon our first introduction I had a feeling that I knew her from somewhere, but I couldn’t quite place her.

  “Yup, that’s me.”

  “Let’s go, man. You got a date with a computer.”

  I stood up and followed Cynthia back to my desk, passing everyone else in the office along the way. As I got closer to my desk, I saw Alicia’s beautiful face. Her desk faced directly in front of mine. I smiled at the thought of having her picture-perfect view from the time I came in the door, until I clocked out to go home. Maybe my life of recent mishaps was taking a turn for the better. Once again, I reminded myself that no matter how attracted I became to any of the women in the office, I would maintain my objective and keep the project of researching first and foremost. As I sat down, I noticed there was also a vacant desk on my right. I found out later that my neighbor was out sick.

  Before Cynthia and I could get started on our training session, Tazzy called a meeting and we all gathered in the center of the office.

  “Good morning, everybody,” Tazzy spoke.

  “Good morning,” the office girls spoke in unison.

  “Is Tina here yet?” Tazzy said, looking around for her.

  “Not yet,” voices scattered.

  “Well, it’s going to be a quick meeting. I’ll get the small things out of the way. Can everyone please stay away from the thermostat? I’ve been noticing the temperature is much lower than where I set it. Secondly, when you go into the bathroom, please, please clean up after yourselves. I cannot stress that enough, especially when Mother Nature is calling. No one wants to walk into a bathroom and be greeted with someone else’s tampon or what have you. So please, clean up after yourselves, okay? Now, back to business, we really have to stay focused and stay on task. We have to get our volume of claims down. So please, if you must talk, keep it to a minimum and try not to disturb your neighbor. That’s it. Any questions?”

  “Can you speak up? I can barely hear you,” Pam said.

  “You need to quit, Pam. You know you can hear that girl,” Valerie said, whispering so that Tazzy couldn’t hear.

  “I said please keep talking to a minimum. Clean up behind yourself. Stay away from the thermostat. And let’s try to work on getting our claims down. Did you get it that time, Pam?” Tazzy said, raising her voice.

  “Some of it,” Pam mumbled, rolling her eyes.

  “I’m sure your neighbor will let you in on whatever you missed.”

  The girls in the office were beginning to disperse when Tazzy stopped them. “Oh, I almost forgot. I’d like to welcome our newest employee, Michael Forrester,” Tazzy said, pointing at me. “Please do your best to make Michael feel as comfortable as possible. Have a nice day, people!”

  I waved to the girls to acknowledge Tazzy’s announcement, then we went back to our desks. Cynthia and I sat down together at my desk to begin my training. As she started to speak, that irrepressible familiar feeling resurfaced.

  “Excuse me, Cynthia,” I said. “Do I know you from somewhere?”

  “I don’t think so,” Cynthia said with a smile.

  “You seem so familiar to me. What’s your full na
me?”

  “Cynthia B. Childs.”

  “What does the ‘B’ stand for?”

  “It stands for ‘B’ as in B-quiet.”

  “Are you ashamed of your name?”

  “I’m not ashamed. I just don’t know want anybody to know what it is.” Cynthia laughed. “It is coun-tree.”

  “You look so familiar to me.”

  “Everybody tells me I have that kind of face.”

  “Yeah, maybe that’s it!”

  Cynthia trained me for that first week and I kept my conversations confined to her ears only. On Wednesday she gave me a list of telephone numbers of the women in the office. Strangely, the list consisted of both work and personal contact numbers. She told me both numbers were listed because during the winter hours they would call each other to make sure each of them made it to their cars safely. Although Upskon was a huge building that employed over five hundred people, the security was a joke. It was common knowledge that security seemed to show up after someone was robbed, stabbed or raped.

  The following week, Wanda, Pam, Lisa and I were sitting in the break room for lunch and a conversation sprang up on the radio about men being intimidated by successful women. I sat and listened as they ranted their opinions.

  “That’s the problem with men nowadays. Every time a woman makes more money than them, they can’t take it!” Wanda shouted.

  “I know,” Pam agreed. “It’s hard for me to get a date because I have my own car, my own house, and my own money. Men don’t know how to deal with a woman like me.”

  As I tried to ignore them, I thought to myself, perhaps men don’t want to deal with a woman like you, not because you have a car, a house, or your own money. Maybe, just maybe, it’s because you have a rotten-ass attitude that a man can’t stand to be around...

  ALSO BY SYLVESTER STEPHENS

  The Nature of a Man

  The Nature of a Woman

  The Office Girls

  Our Time Has Come

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