My Fate According to the Butterfly

by Gail Villanueva

  It’s a statement, not a question. Still, I want it to be wrong. I want Ate Nadine to tell me I’m mistaken.

  I clench my fist as a tear rolls down my cheek. Ate Nadine tucks a wet strand of hair behind my ear, gently cupping my cheek.

  “I’m so sorry, Sab,” she says. “Dad was in rehab for his drug addiction. He is a recovering addict.”

  FRIDAY

  TWO DAYS. THAT’S ALL I have left, if the Butterfly’s warning is real. After last night? How can I trust anything Dad told me? The omen of the black butterfly was probably just a story he came up with. I should feel relieved, but I’m too upset.

  It’s almost lunch already, but I’m still lying in bed. My blinds are shut tight. It’s as if night has come.

  Fairy lights dangling between the bedposts of my headboard twinkle like stars in the dark. My phone belts out the DuckTales theme song for what seems like the fiftieth time. Pepper has been calling and texting all morning, but I’ve been ignoring her. I ignore this call too.

  I can’t deal right now, and I just want to be alone.

  KREEEN! The door creaks open. Somebody turns off the fairy lights and switches on the main ceiling lamp.

  “Get up.” It’s Ate Nadine. “Come down to the study. Mom’s online. She wants to talk to you.”

  I rub my eyes at the sudden brightness. It takes a few seconds for the spots in my vision to clear.

  “Now, Sab.”

  Sighing, I do as my sister says. It’s just not worth arguing anymore.

  Nothing is worth it anymore.

  I see Mom’s face as soon as I sit on the office chair. Her face is perfectly made up, but a few strands of black hair have escaped her tight bun. Behind her is a red curtain. I’m guessing she’s video calling in between sessions.

  “Hi, sweetie. I love your new haircut!” she exclaims. It’s only been a week, but how I miss that smile. “How’s Pepper? Where’s Lawin?”

  Mom’s trying to lighten the mood, but it’s not working.

  “Pepper’s at her house.” I left my phone upstairs, so I wouldn’t know if Pepper called again. She probably hasn’t and has moved on. It’s not like she’s going to keep on calling me forever. It’s not okay, but I understand. After all, who wants a friend with an ex-addict dad? “Lawin’s in the yard with Ate. He’s playing in the mud and looking for bugs.”

  “Eww.” Mom makes a face. “Be sure to give him a bath before you let him in the house.”

  I shrug. With the way things are going, Lawin should do whatever he wants. I’m not telling him off for having fun.

  “How are you, sweetheart?”

  Awful. Hurt. Betrayed. “I’m fine.”

  Mom bites her lower lip, the same way Ate Nadine does. “Tito Ed told me about last night.”

  “Okay.” Of course he would. Tito Ed tells her everything. I wish they did the same with me.

  “Do you want to talk about it?

  “No.”

  Mom touches the computer screen. “I wish I could be there and give you a hug.”

  “Me too.”

  “Sabrina.” Mom sighs. “I told you. I couldn’t say no to the organizers. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity—”

  “I know, Mom.”

  Mom is an urban planner who works for a private firm but gives free consultations for the government whenever she has time. It’s one of the reasons why she and Tito Ed are so great together—they have the similar goal of wanting to make the lives of Filipinos better. But this same goal is costing the time she could have spent with me.

  I feel bad being such a brat like this, but give me some credit. A supernatural (and probably fictional) insect told me I’m dying. I found out my own father used to do drugs, and everyone kept it a secret from me. And I’m turning eleven, and Mom is too busy trying to fix Metro Manila’s traffic problems to celebrate with me. This week is terrible. So yeah. I think I deserve to be bratty just for a bit.

  “What’s on your mind, sweetheart? You can ask me anything. I’d like to explain—”

  I avert my eyes. They fall on the window beside me, the one with the family picture sitting on the windowsill. It overlooks the shed in the garden. It used to be Dad’s studio, where he spent days (sometimes even weeks) working on a piece.

  “How long has Dad been using drugs?”

  On-screen, Mom’s gaze flickers on the mantel. She sighs. “When we were still in college, I was sure he was using. He skipped a semester for rehab and got well from it. You were two when I had a feeling he was using again. But I wasn’t sure,” says Mom. “Listen, sweetheart, addiction is a disease.”

  “I know, I know.” It takes every bit of my willpower not to roll my eyes. The office chair creaks as I lean on the backrest. It holds the lingering scent of Ate Nadine’s body spray of strawberries and cream. “Tito Ed told me.”

  “You must understand this, baby. Just bear with me for a bit.” Mom’s face grows closer to my screen. “Your asthma. What do you do when your chest feels tight and you feel light-headed because you can’t breathe?”

  “I take my inhaler. What does that have to do with—”

  “You need your medicine to keep it at bay,” Mom says with a nod. “But remember what the doctor said? One day, you might not need your inhaler anymore. Still, the asthma will always be part of you, and you’ll need to keep constant vigilance so it won’t come back.”

  As if on cue, my chest begins to tighten. I take a deep breath and let air out slowly to keep my pulse at a normal rate.

  “Dad’s disease is like your asthma,” Mom continues. “Lola Cordia got him help before you and Nadine were born. He was fine, then he got sick with it once more. The people at the medical facility helped him get well. He’s been okay. He’s doing everything he can to stay okay, because he loves us and doesn’t want his addiction to cause him to make bad choices again.”

  A terrible realization punches me in the gut. “Was it because of me?”

  “Sweetheart. Sabrina. Sab. Look at me.” Mom moves even closer to the screen. “It’s not your fault. It’s never your fault.”

  Tears well up in my eyes. What if Mom’s wrong? There must have been something I missed, something I could have done. Something I did.

  “Sab, it’s got nothing to do with what you did or didn’t do,” Mom insists, shaking her head. There’s so much urgency in her voice, I lean back on the office chair to move away. “We all have things we want so much that we find it hard to say no to them. Chocolate is bad for my blood sugar, but I still love it. There are times I want it so much, I make the wrong choice and indulge myself even if I know it’s bad for me. Dad dealt with something similar. He knew it was bad for him, but he picked the wrong choice and hurt us.”

  “That’s the reason why you left him, isn’t it, Mommy?”

  Mom looks down at her keyboard. Even without words, her silence screams yes.

  My hands shake. My chest tightens. “How come you never told me?”

  “I’m so sorry, sweetheart. I thought it would protect you. This isn’t how I wanted you to find out—”

  I blink furiously to stop the tears from falling. “I wish you were here, Mommy.”

  “Me too.” Mom kisses the tips of her index and middle fingers and places them on the screen.

  I touch the screen where Mom’s fingers are. “When are you coming back?”

  “The conference will be over later in the afternoon, but there’s a tour this weekend. They’ll show Singapore urban planning in action, which I think will be very helpful for my personal project. So if all goes well, I’ll be in Manila by Monday. It’ll still be your birthday on the other side of the world. We’ll celebrate again, okay? Anything you want.”

  I’m not sure if she’s trying to convince herself, or me.

  “Listen, sweetie.” Mom lets out a long sigh. “I’m going to try my best to be home as soon as I can. I’ll bring you salted egg potato chips and lots and lots of chocolate. And, Sab?”

  “Hmm?”

 
“Can you please tell Ate to go online when she’s done making lunch? I’d like to talk to her.”

  I nod.

  “Thanks, sweetie. Love you!”

  We hang up, the computer chiming as I shut it down. Soon, I see nothing but a black screen.

  I lay my head on the desk and let the tears flow.

  THE SIZZLING SOUNDS OF KWEK-KWEK are making my tummy grumble, but my heart doesn’t want food. My heart wants nothing but to be alone.

  Yes, I’m being overly dramatic. But I’ve gotten to a point where I feel like I can’t trust anyone, you know?

  Like today, for example.

  I don’t know what Mom and Ate Nadine talked about. But the moment we finished eating lunch, Ate Nadine dragged me to the shower to get cleaned up and ready. I was perfectly content in my dirty pajamas with Lawin and a huge bag of cheese balls on my bed all day. But no. Ate Nadine had to ruin my plans.

  “You’re coming with me out in the sun, Smelly Vampire Girl,” she demanded. My sister practically carried me to her car. But the worst part? “We’re picking up Pepper.”

  So here I am, back in the alley near Ate Nadine’s school. Alone on a bench with the friend who will soon un-friend me once she gets too full to eat kwek-kwek. My sister is across the alley from us, browsing for a laptop cover. Every now and then, she’ll sneak a peek at us.

  Ate Nadine wanted me to tell Pepper about Dad, because Pepper’s my best friend.

  My best friend for now, at least. I doubt she’ll still want to be once she finds out.

  Thing is, I can sit here all day with my mouth shut and my hair smelling like fried quail eggs, but I’m not saying a word. I’m done with people lying to me and telling me what to do. All week, I’ve believed my fate is tied to the Butterfly of Death. But, as it turns out, the so-called supernatural insect was likely just a figment of my father’s imagination.

  None of it was real, and I was a fool to believe it.

  I was a fool to believe in Dad, period.

  “Aren’t you going to ask me what’s wrong?” The words surprise me as they come out of my mouth.

  “Do you want me to?” Pepper crushes and tosses her empty kwek-kwek cup. It lands squarely inside the black trash bag hanging on the vendor’s cart beside her.

  “Are you serious?” My eyes narrow. Pepper’s not into discussing emotions, but come on. “Aren’t you even at least curious?”

  “I am. But you didn’t answer any of my calls or texts or chat messages, so I figure you don’t want to tell me.”

  “Why did you come, then?”

  “Your sister called me,” she explains. “It’s hard to say no when Ate Nadine demands for me to get ready so she can pick me up.”

  “Well, you didn’t have to come.” All along I thought she was concerned about me. I guess I’m wrong. Again.

  “Duh. Of course I’d go.” Pepper twists a lock of brown hair around her finger. She sighs. “Okay, fine. I’ll bite. Why are you ignoring me, Sab? What did I do?”

  “I’m not—” I let out a sigh. There’s no point in prolonging this any further. If she wants to stop being my friend after this, then it’s better to get it over with. “My dad is a recovering drug addict.”

  Pepper lets go of her hair. She turns to look at me, her blue eyes meeting my brown ones. “Yeah, I figured.”

  “You did?” Okay. That was unexpected.

  “My papa was a missionary, remember? Part of his mission was to volunteer at rehab facilities,” Pepper says, waving her hand dismissively. “Not the same one your grandma sent your dad to—the purple-and-pink building is for people who can afford it. Papa worked at government-run centers.”

  The knot in my stomach begins to unwind. “When did you know?”

  “Our first homeroom assignment together, when we had to write about our families.”

  I raise an eyebrow.

  “I wasn’t sure until we met Romeo Gamelon. He said they used to party a lot … Parties are usually where people get their drugs. And that gallery was kind of a dead giveaway.” Pepper holds on to the edge of the bench, steadying herself. It really is hard to keep balance on the thin planks turned makeshift bench. “You’ll be surprised how common your story is. Your mama left your papa after he did something to you and Ate Nadine, didn’t she?”

  “Yeah.” I was only four when it happened, but I remember the day. Ate Nadine was almost eleven, like me now. Dad was supposed to take us to the mall, but he made this sudden turn and parked near an alley similar to this one. He left Ate and me at a bakery, promising he wouldn’t be long.

  Dad didn’t return until it was very dark. Mom and Lola Cordia were already there with cops and an ambulance. I can’t forget how Dad looked—his eyes were dilated, his skin flushed, and he was as pale as a ghost. Lola Cordia took us to a nearby restaurant to eat dinner. Mom joined us soon after. She tried to hide it, but it was obvious—she’d been crying.

  We didn’t see Dad for six months, until we visited him in the facility at Pasig. We saw him every few months or so, but eventually, he faded from our lives. Dad moved to Pililla, while we stayed in Quezon City. We saw him sometimes, but our visits were mostly because of Lola Cordia. Dad met Wendell, and Mom met Tito Ed. Then Lola Cordia died last year, and we haven’t seen him since. It’s like Lola Cordia was the only one keeping the family together. But she’s gone, and this is where we’re at now.

  Pepper touches my hand. She doesn’t say anything. Most people would probably say, “I’m sorry,” like it’s their fault or something, when it’s obviously not. Just being with me, just being my friend—I appreciate it more.

  I turn to face Pepper on the bench. “I thought you’d stop being my friend if you found out.”

  “Seriously?” Pepper’s blue eyes widen. Then she snorts. “Geez, Sab. I’m your best friend. There’s nothing for you to be ashamed of. I won’t deserve to even call you a ‘friend-friend’ if I stop being friends with you because of that.”

  “Really?”

  “Really.” My friend gives me a firm nod. “You can talk to me about it whenever you want.”

  “Thank you.” Before Pepper can talk again, I rush in to hug her. “You are the bestest best friend ever.”

  Pepper stiffens. She pats my back and eventually hugs me in return.

  “This is weird,” Pepper mumbles, her breath warm on my ear. “So weird.”

  “It’s not.” I loosen my grip but keep my arms around her. It’s not often I get to hug Pepper. She’s allergic to affection.

  “You can let go now. People are looking at us weird.”

  “Oh.” I let go and try to laugh, but all that comes out is a sound that’s a cross between laughing and crying. It’s such a relief to know I’m not losing my friend.

  “Sab!” Pepper groans. “Don’t cry. Or I’m going to cry.”

  “I’m not crying,” I say, but sniff and wipe away my tears with the back of my hand. As my vision clears, it lands on Ate Nadine. She’s still across the alley, keeping a respectful distance, smiling at us. Kuya Jepoy joins her. Together, they walk to where we are.

  Kuya Jepoy gets down on his knees so we’re at eye level. He puts his hands on my shoulders. “Can I also get a hug?”

  I throw my arms around him. Kuya Jepoy smells like cinnamon, different from Ate Nadine, but somehow, comfortingly familiar. He hugs me back.

  “It’s okay, kiddo. We’re here for you. Remember that,” he says. Kuya Jepoy strokes my hair. “You’re never alone.”

  Ate Nadine grins at me. “How about we go shopping now, Smelly Vampire Girl?”

  “I’m not smelly.” I pout, but the corners of my mouth betray me. They’re curling up in a smile. “Can I buy new oil pastels at the strip mall, Ate? The ones they sell here are so hard and brittle—”

  “PULIS! PULIS!” a man in the alley shouts, warning about the police.

  My chest tightens as my heart falls to my stomach. I try not to overreact like I did the last time, so I keep my panic at bay.

 
“You must go, children.” To my surprise, it’s the kwek-kwek vendor who speaks. He looks at Kuya Jepoy. “Bring them to your workplace. You’ll be safe there.”

  Oh, it’s for real this time. I grab the inhaler from my pocket and take a puff. “Why? What’s going on?”

  “Raid,” the vendor says grimly. “There’s an article in the Manila Daily Journal this morning. About some punk selling drugs to college kids. They’re probably looking for—”

  Ate Nadine gasps. “What do you mean, an article?” She turns to me. “I didn’t know it was coming out today. My boss texted me something this morning about ‘going forward,’ but it didn’t occur to me she meant ‘going forward with publishing.’ I was so worried about you and—”

  Gunshots erupt in the alley, echoing in the deafening silence that follows.

  Ate Nadine grabs me by the scruff of my shirt, pulling me on the ground with her. Kuya Jepoy does the same for Pepper.

  “Get those kids out of here, Jepoy!” the kwek-kwek vendor says as he holds on to his cart. His pan of bubbling oil threatens to spill as people stampede out of the alley.

  He doesn’t have to tell us twice. We leap up and run as fast as our feet can carry us.

  WE RUN THROUGH THE ALLEY, zigzagging between people while avoiding merchandise strewn all over the ground. I feel light-headed, and I’m finding it harder and harder to breathe.

  I slow down, trying to catch my breath.

  “We’re almost there, Sab.” Ate Nadine tugs my hand. “Just hold on for a bit longer.”

  I can’t speak, so I nod and take another deep breath.

  We pass by the ice cream parlor as Kuya Jepoy leads us out of the alley, where we turn left and run a bit more. Three stores down, he stops at an internet café and opens the door.

  Chimes tinkle as we enter, and cold, air-conditioned air blasts my face. I bend over, holding my side. My head nearly hits the tower of box-type computer monitors piled high near the entrance.

  “Careful,” Kuya Jepoy warns. “Sorry about the mess. My boss is replacing the old box monitors with the newer, flat ones.”