My Fate According to the Butterfly

by Gail Villanueva

  Pepper and Ate Nadine pull me upright, and one of them shoves the blue medicine canister in my hand.

  “Take a puff again,” Ate Nadine orders. I do as I’m told. My heart is still racing, but my breathing is better now. I don’t feel like I’m drowning anymore.

  “Thanks, Ate.”

  “Oh, wow.” Pepper collapses in the computer chair nearest her. I do the same. “That was intense.”

  Ate Nadine purses her lips, but she doesn’t reply.

  “Jepoy, what happened?” We look up and find a middle-aged woman behind the counter at the far end of the internet café. Her hair is as short as mine. If not for her voice, I would have mistaken her for a man.

  “It was a Tokhang, boss,” Kuya Jepoy says. He hurries to the woman’s side, helping her onto a chair. “Someone must have gotten in the way.”

  “Who?”

  “We don’t know.” Kuya Jepoy shrugs.

  I feel my heart drop to my stomach. Oh no. Did somebody actually die?

  Ate Nadine’s frown deepens. She walks past the rows of computers to the counter where the woman is standing. There’s a small fridge beside the cashier.

  “Three bottles of mineral water, please.” Ate Nadine pays the woman, and Kuya Jepoy hands Pepper and me a bottle each. We drink them down as though we’ve been stuck in the desert for days.

  Pepper lets out a loud burp when she’s done. “What’s ‘Tokhang’?”

  My sister, Kuya Jepoy, and the woman exchange grim, knowing looks.

  “Operation Tokhang. It’s a police operation named after a combination of Visayan words. Tuktok, which means ‘to knock.’ And hangyo, which means ‘to plead or persuade.’ ” Ate Nadine rubs her temples as she explains. “The idea is that police will visit suspected drug users and pushers and try to convince them to stop their illegal activities and offer rehabilitation and other livelihood programs.”

  “That doesn’t sound so bad.” Pepper tilts her head.

  I run my hand through my short hair. Ate Nadine’s explanation reminds me of the man who gave me this cut. “The stylist said there’s nothing to worry about if you’re not doing or selling drugs.”

  “In essence, yes. There are some places where it works as it should,” Ate Nadine says. “But there are trigger-happy cops who abuse their power, and corrupt officials who use it for their own gain. So people die.”

  I’ve heard Tito Ed mention having police operations against the drug trade, but I never knew what it’s called. I didn’t think it involved people dying either. After all, Tito Ed himself used to be a correctional facility officer, focusing particularly on those who needed help from drug use. I can’t imagine him shooting somebody just because they’re suspected of doing illegal activities. I can’t imagine him hurting anyone, period.

  But after the past week? I don’t know. There are so many things I’ve been so wrong about, things I’ve thought to be one thing but turn out to be another.

  Just look at my dad. All along I thought he was this kind, fun, and doting father I grew up with. The father who shared with me his great love for art. Turns out, all along everyone was lying to me.

  “Ate, the stylist said bad cops believe the president—that he wants all drug people dead …” A horrible thought enters my mind. “Do those people include Daddy?”

  Ate Nadine and Kuya Jepoy exchange glances.

  “Sab, Pepper.” Ate Nadine pats the computer chair beside her. “Come sit beside me.”

  We do as my sister asks. Pepper twirls a lock of hair around her finger, but she doesn’t say anything. I don’t either. We simply sit on our computer chairs and stare at the blank screens in front of us in silence.

  “Listen to me, girls.” Ate Nadine clears her throat. She pauses, taking a gulp of her bottled water. “We’re very, very fortunate. We may not be like those rich families who can afford mansions and sports cars, but we get by better than most Filipinos. Dad is okay now because Lola Cordia had the money to pay for his rehabilitation. The majority of Filipinos wouldn’t be able to afford that, and they rely on the government to help them recover.

  “So to answer your question, yes, the people arrested in these raids are no different than Dad, except that they have less money. Had Dad been in their same place, he probably would have been arrested too, or worse. And if Dad ever did get arrested, he’d get off easy because he can afford treatment and the help of a lawyer.”

  “That’s unfair.” Pepper frowns. “Why do people get special treatment just because they have more money? No offense.”

  “None taken. It’s called ‘privilege.’ ” Ate Nadine gives Pepper a smile. “It’s just like when the security guard let you take the ‘better’ train car because he thinks your being white makes you deserve it.”

  Pepper pouts. “It’s not my fault I look like this.”

  “That’s true, of course. But this privilege is given to you without question, willingly, because of our culture steeped in the scars of a colonized past. It’s up to you what to make of it. You can either recognize and understand your privilege so you can make our society better, or you don’t and let things stay the same.”

  “Didn’t Daddy take advantage of his privilege, Ate?” I ask, sneaking a glance at Kuya Jepoy, who’s been hanging back to give us privacy. He’s trying to turn his life around. But Kuya Jepoy can’t afford a college education, nor can he accept a scholarship, because he needs to work and feed his lola and five sisters.

  Dad threw away an entire semester because of his addiction. He wasted the very opportunity many people would love to have. He did something illegal and escaped the consequences because he had money.

  I’m not angry (seriously). Well, maybe a little. Fine. I am.

  “He did, kiddo.” To my surprise and Ate Nadine’s, it’s Kuya Jepoy who answers. He gives me a kind smile. “You remember when I told you about my uncle going to prison?”

  I nod. Pepper shakes her head, but I mouth, “I’ll tell you later.”

  “He was caught by the police selling drugs,” Kuya Jepoy continues. “He knew it was wrong. And yet, he still made the choice to do it. Maybe he felt like it was the only way to make money, or he didn’t consider the danger of it. But just because someone messes up doesn’t automatically mean they’re a bad person.” Kuya Jepoy glances at Ate Nadine. My sister avoids his gaze. “Good people can make bad choices too.”

  Mom said the same thing, that Dad made the wrong choices. Maybe they’re right. Dad wouldn’t have willingly put himself in danger like that if his mind had been well. I should be glad he didn’t die.

  The thought of Daddy lying in the alley with all those cops and panicking people— No, I’m not thinking about it.

  “Is there a computer I can use?” I clear my throat, hoping to rid myself of the lump threatening to make me cry. Now’s not the time to cry about Dad.

  “There’s one in the corner. I’ll show you,” Kuya Jepoy says before the shop owner can answer. Ate Nadine tries to protest as Pepper stands to join me, but Kuya Jepoy shakes his head. He leads me to the back of the room, to the far corner, away from everyone. “I figured you’d want to be alone.”

  “Thanks.” I give him a watery smile. “Am I that obvious?”

  Kuya Jepoy reaches out to ruffle my hair. “You’re like Nadine in a lot of ways—she’s very sensitive.” He chuckles as he sets up the computer for me. “She is. She just doesn’t like showing it. But that doesn’t mean she doesn’t care.”

  I pull up the web browser when Kuya Jepoy leaves to join Ate Nadine and Pepper at the front of the internet café. Typing in the address of the black Butterfly website (I know it by heart), I press Enter.

  I may not be convinced it’s real anymore, but I feel like I need to see it. It’s just easier to worry about the Butterfly taking me instead of worrying about my dad.

  A familiar website appears, where an animated image of a giant, black-as-night butterfly loads in the middle. It flaps its wings slowly as more of the animation file downloads.


  ONE HUNDRED PERCENT, says the indicator. The file is fully downloaded.

  But the flapping doesn’t slow down.

  The animated butterfly flaps faster and faster. It flaps so fast, the wings resemble nothing but a black blur.

  I shut my eyes to clear the vision away. I’m tired, that’s all. I’m seeing odd things.

  When I open my eyes, the black blur is gone.

  Perched on the flat screen, right on the spot where the image was … is a giant black butterfly.

  My head spins as my heart drops to my stomach once again. Still, I muster the courage to reach out and touch it. I jump—the Butterfly’s wings are soft and velvety, but cold as ice.

  It’s real, all right. Very real.

  I stare at the Butterfly as it flaps its wings twice, then launches from the monitor. It flies up the ceiling, fading in the florescent light. “Ate—”

  The door chimes tinkle as somebody enters the internet café.

  “POLICE! Taas ang kamay!”

  From the safety of my corner, I see the internet café owner, Kuya Jepoy, Pepper, and my sister raise their hands in the air as two cops walk inside. I do the same, and one of the officers sees me. He beckons me to come to the front with my sister and friends. I willingly follow.

  “Put your hands down,” says his partner. He points at Kuya Jepoy. “Except for you.”

  “What? No.” I spread my arms wide in front of Kuya Jepoy. “He didn’t do anything.”

  The officer scowls at Ate Nadine. “Tell the girl to get out of the way or she’s coming with us to the precinct.”

  “It’s okay, Sab.” Kuya Jepoy gives me a sad smile as the cops cuff him. “I’ll be fine. They’re just going to ask me questions.”

  Didn’t they just say bad cops will only treat people well if they have money? “But—”

  “Sab, don’t.” Ate Nadine grips my shoulders. “I’ll ask Tito Ed to handle this.”

  The door chimes tinkle once again, and Kuya Jepoy leaves with the mean cops.

  I think I’m going to throw up. They’re taking my friend like he’s a criminal.

  SATURDAY

  I’M ON THE BACK PORCH alone, watching Lawin dunk his head in a basin of water in the garden. He then wags his tail. He repeats this ten times, before waddling to the pile of sliced cucumbers and cherry tomatoes in his food bowl on the grass.

  It must be nice, being a duck. All you have to do is wake up, eat, swim, drink, and sleep. You don’t have to worry about doomsday butterflies, allergy attacks, or getting your friend arrested.

  Yes, the Butterfly is real after all. I saw it with my own eyes—again.

  If Pepper were here, my day might have been happier and less boring. Today’s the day Pepper has been waiting for—the day she becomes a junior bridesmaid instead of a flower girl. It’s very important to her. Because today, her family will recognize she’s not a little girl anymore.

  Still, I wish Pepper were here with me.

  It’s selfish, I know, but you have to understand—tomorrow’s my last day. I would have wanted to have Pepper by my side if I do die. I need my friend. Especially when another one is currently in jail for something he didn’t do.

  “Sab,” Tito Ed calls, poking his head out of the glass sliding doors. “I won’t be long. Your sister is here, if you need anything.”

  I nod but say nothing.

  “Nadine—”

  “We’ll be okay.” Ate Nadine joins me on the bench as Tito Ed leaves with a sigh.

  All morning, Tito Ed has been trying to assure me that Kuya Jepoy’s fine. That he’s taken care of it. Still, I find it hard to believe him. I’ve heard what bad cops can do. How can I be sure he’s not like them? Nothing he says will make me feel better unless I see for myself that Kuya Jepoy is unharmed.

  “That duck and I don’t always get along, but we need to get him a bigger pool. He can’t even fit his big butt in that basin.” Ate Nadine puts her legs up on the wooden table. She waves her hand an inch from my nose. “Yoo-hoo! Earth to Sab.”

  I push her hand away. “What?”

  “Hey.” Ate Nadine pats my hand. “Jepoy is fine. You need to trust Tito Ed.”

  “Do you?”

  My sister looks me straight in the eye while giving my hand a squeeze. “With my life.”

  “I just don’t understand!” I exclaim, pulling my hand away. “Why did the cops arrest Kuya Jepoy? He didn’t do anything!”

  “Listen, Sab.” Ate Nadine takes me by the shoulders, forcing me to face her. “Not all cops are like Tito Ed. There are those who wouldn’t even give Jepoy due process. Many people are framed and killed because some cops just want to impress the president. Or maybe the bad cops sold drugs themselves and just want to cover up their deed. Our justice system isn’t the same as what you see on American TV shows. Corruption makes it hard for the majority of Filipinos to have a day in court.”

  “But—”

  “But Tito Ed called the headquarters as soon as I told him what happened. He made sure Jepoy is treated well during their questioning.”

  “Will Kuya Jepoy be okay?”

  “Yes, Sab. I’m sure of it.” Ate Nadine’s voice is so quiet I can barely hear her. “I know it’s hard for you to trust after finding this out about Dad. Believe me, I do too. Still, you need to have a little faith that people will get better. Because eventually, they do. Sometimes it takes a day, a month, or a year. Or maybe even longer than that. Either way, life will find a way to make things right.”

  It’s almost as if she’s saying it not just for my benefit but for hers as well.

  From the patio, Ate Nadine and I get a perfect view of Marikina Valley, all the way to the mountains of Antipolo. On our left, there’s a river snaking under a bridge, where cars, trucks, and jeepneys pass through. Their headlights are like red-and-yellow fireflies at dusk. They glint as the sun leaves and the moon takes its place.

  This is the same view we get at dusk every day. Yet, it’s only recently I’ve grown to truly appreciate it. It’s quite interesting, really, how the appearance of the Butterfly changed the way I see things in such a short period of time.

  My fate isn’t in the hands (or wings) of a butterfly, but in my own.

  Maybe I’ll die today or tomorrow. Maybe I won’t. Either way, it’s time for me to take my fate in my hands again.

  “Ate, I know you don’t like Daddy—I’m angry too—but I need answers. I’d still like to spend my birthday at the resort. If you don’t want to take Pepper and me there, that’s okay. We’ll ask Tito Ed.” My heart pounds so fast, I almost have trouble speaking. “But it would be great if you can come with us.”

  I feel my sister tense up, but she continues to stare at the valley.

  “Ate?”

  “I heard you,” she says. Ate Nadine finally turns to look at me. “All right.”

  I’m not sure I heard her correctly. “What do you mean, ‘All right’?”

  “ ‘All right’ as in, I’ll do it. We’ll have your party at the resort.”

  My jaw drops. “Really?”

  “Really.”

  “Thank you!” I squeal in delight, throwing my arms around Ate Nadine. I lay my head on her shoulder, and she sighs.

  The mosquitos are starting to come out, but Ate Nadine doesn’t seem to care. I don’t either. It’s as if we both want the moment to go on forever, just the two of us. No butterflies. No lies. No bad cops. No Kuya Jepoy. No Pepper. No Wendell, no Tito Ed, no Mom, and no Dad. Just me and my big sister.

  “Ahem.”

  We look behind us and find our mother standing on the patio. She wears a sweater too warm for the Philippine weather but which must have kept her from getting cold on the flight from Singapore to Manila. Mom’s smile is as big as the moon above us. “What’s going on here?”

  “Mommy, you’re home!”

  SUNDAY

  I’M ELEVEN TODAY. FUNNY, I don’t feel any different. I’m nervous, but that’s got nothing to do with me turning a ye
ar older.

  It’s a good thing Mom had us prepare everything last night. I think she felt guilty for almost missing my birthday. Or maybe she felt bad I found out about Dad’s addiction. Or maybe our video call made her worry about me. But whatever, my mom’s home! Mom arranged everything with Wendell as soon as I told her about wanting to celebrate my eleventh at Dad’s resort.

  “Wendell is an amazing party planner,” she said. “He’ll pull it off.”

  True. Spur-of-the-moment celebrations were no match for Wendell’s planning skills.

  We were able to leave the house by six, with the sun shining bright, and head for the strip mall to buy some things Wendell needed. Pepper slept over since her parents are usually busy in the morning tending to their backyard farm and gazillion animals.

  I’ve been iffy about seeing the strip mall and the alley beside it (my memories of those places are less than pleasant), but I’m not going to let anything ruin this day.

  Mom and Tito Ed head for the coffee shop. Ate Nadine takes Pepper and me along with her to the waiting shed in front of the salon to meet “somebody.”

  “Hey, kiddo,” says a familiar low and soothing male voice. It’s Kuya Jepoy. He shaved the stubble on his chin, and his clothes are pressed and clean.

  I feel the knot in my stomach untangle. Kuya Jepoy is free!

  Pepper grins. “We were afraid you’d be sent to prison.”

  “Pepper!” I swear, my friend can be so tactless at times. But yes, I’m so glad he didn’t go to prison.

  “Just for a bit. The orange prison shirt doesn’t suit me.” Kuya Jepoy ruffles our hair at the same time. He smiles at Ate Nadine. “Your tito Ed came to the precinct just minutes after Nadine called him. They asked me questions, but they treated me well.”

  “That’s good.” My sister’s right. I shouldn’t have doubted Tito Ed. “Are you coming with us for my party in Pililla? You’re going to love it there. We don’t have a farm, but the resort has a nice pool and lots of trees and Lola Cordia’s butterfly garden is really beautiful.”

  I’m rambling like Pepper, but I can’t help myself. I’m just so excited.