by Wahida Clark
When Butterfly thought that she had been deeply in love with Clayton, lying on the floor with Atwater made her think that she had never known what true love was. It was true that she loved fucking Lazy Eyes' more, but something about Atwater had taken her breath away. She would go back to the unit and tell Buffy and Britney everything, and they thought she was the luckiest ugly duckling in the pond.
“There's nothing I wouldn't do to make you happy,” Butterfly told Atwater with a mist of admiration and deep love in her eyes.
She had not changed at all since the first day of her make over. And she lay there naked and the candlelight danced a shadow on the surrounding walls. The air from the air conditioner was cool, and she had goose bumps all over her skin. She wrapped up in Atwater's big arms and pulled tight against him.
“Is that right?” Atwater said and he had to know. He knew the way to her heart, and he was fast on the trail. She had told him that she'd do anything once she was in love, and only time would tell.
“If you still want me to get on the Internet for you, I'll do it.”
Atwater didn't even have to game for it. “When?”
“Whenever you want. I love you.” Butterfly didn't look into his eyes when she said that. She just didn't want to see if his eyes would read other than how she felt. And if she was lying to herself, let her live the lie.
Atwater said nothing. His heart was split. Shonda most definitely came first, and he didn't know if he had taken this fling too far. It was supposed to be about money and nothing else. But he had gone tender-dick, and he knew that Old School better not find out.
“How did you get these scars?” Atwater asked, touching the scars on her wrist. He noticed them a long time ago but never wanted to ask because he didn’t want to be prying in her personal business like that.
“I tried to kill myself.” Butterfly was disappointed that he didn't say anything about her love for him. But if he wanted to be hushed about it, so would she.
“Why did you try to kill yourself?”
“It's a long story.”
“And we have all day. You're gonna hold it back from me when you just told me you'd do anything for me.”
Butterfly had to think. His lips were kissing her earlobe, but she wanted to look at him while she told him what he should know. So she turned around to face him.
“Men only love me when it's easy for them. When they have to go through what I've always had to go through, they leave me.”
“What did you have to go through?”
Butterfly looked at him as if it was obvious. “You'd never ever understand.”
“Try me.”
“Imagine being disowned by your family. When my mother came up here to see me, that was the first time I'd seen her in years. And she still doesn't want to accept the fact that I'm a woman. She still sees me as her little Bobby. She writes me, but I just don't trust her.
“Plus my father and brother have always looked at me as if they hated me or as if I disgusted them.” Butterfly was choked up and tears formed in her eyes.
“That's okay, you don't have to tell me if it makes you mad.”
“No, I'm going to tell you. My father and brother treated me as if I wasn't there. Whenever my family would go on fishing trips, vacations or outings, they wouldn't take me. And since I didn't have my father's love, my mother had always kept me at bay.”
“That's fucked up, baby.”
“I know it is. And I haven’t always been honest about who I am or what I am. I’ve lied so much about it. Being that I can pass as a woman, I don’t always tell people otherwise, like I was born . . .” She let the moment pass. “I guess Clayton was shocked at first, but he left it at that. But somehow his family found out and his cousin Peyton blamed me for everything because she hooked us up. And that’s why I’m in jail: vengeful justice.”
“What?”
“Peyton set me up. She had some guys act like she owed them some money, and they said they’d kill me if she didn’t pay them. So I did the only thing I knew how to do to get that much money on such short notice: I started busting checks. And the whole time it had been a set up.”
“We gotta get that bitch back,” Atwater said, and he meant it.
“No we don’t. It’s my fault. She’s right. I should have said that everything about me is complicated. I should have said that I don’t want people to know I was born a man, because I love them and I want them to love me as who I am not what I am. And if that sounds complicated there’s no better way to explain it.
“And that's why I said that when somebody has to face what I've faced my whole life, they'll leave me. They'll end up blaming me for being who I am. But this is who I'll always be. I can't change.”
“Have you ever felt like you should have never come out of the closet?”
“Of course I do. I regret that I am who I am every day of my life. But it's pretty obvious. It's not like I can hide this woman inside of me. It's who I am and the sooner people'll realize it, the better off the world’ll be. People act like somebody gay would go through all this discrimination and hate for some excitement. But this is who we are.
“I think—” Butterfly just couldn't bring herself to say it because it would shatter her dreams.
“You think what?”
“I think you're gonna leave me, too, when you're faced with the reality of what you're doing . . . watch and see.”
“I ain’t going nowhere. Don't even think like that. I'll never abandon you. That's my word . . .”
“That's my word . . . That's my word . . . “The words waded through Butterfly's mind that night when she went to sleep. His voice was so settling, and she almost got lost in the words. The words were so comforting that she felt herself drift off into her favorite place in the world.
She was in an orchard, and the sun was warm and the skies clear. She was running, and she felt her adolescent youth in her spree. She was a kid again, seven to be exact, and she was flying fast across the orchards.
“I'm a butterfly! I can fly!”
She twirled in a spot as the sun shone on her face. She spun and did a dance with a butterfly that waddled by and whispered love to it.
She didn't know, but her uncle, Kevin, was standing by a tree watching her with a smile on his face. He thought his young nephew was so beautiful, and it took all in his power not to get excited every time he saw him.
“Bobby, come here.”
When Butterfly heard her uncle's voice, her sunny day had instantly become gloomy, and dark clouds hovered overhead. The sky passed and was eerie and dreamy and she was transported back to her uncle's study in his big mansion.
She was crying, and her uncle was pulling down her pants as she stood stark still. She couldn't move, because her uncle forbid her to.
“I love you more than your own dad,” her uncle said, and it was true, but it was a love that was tainted by perversion, and his eyes were crazed with lust.
“Please don't, Uncle Kevin! Not again!” Little Bobby's pleas were sincere, his cries piercing. But his uncle didn't yield to his pleas.
His uncle kissed him and Little Bobby hated it. His uncle made him get on his knees and he instructed Bobby on how to put his mouth on his penis and suck it. Bobby did as he was told, because . . . because . . . his uncle was the only one in this whole wide world who cared about him or ever showed him any affection. Bobby knew what they were doing was wrong, but who could he tell! His father already hated him, and his mother was scared of her husband, so there was nothing to do but comply.
Little Bobby's uncle turned him around and he felt his uncle thrusting inside of him and he felt the searing pain. Sweat poured out of Little Bobby's pores, and he felt drenched in water. He felt dunked in a tank that was filled with water.
He was drowning and a hand held his head fast in the water. He fought against the water and his hands splashed back and forth, and he tried to breathe, but he only sucked up more water. Then she felt his head yanked out of the water
, and he was in his uncle's hands.
They were at his uncle's church and his uncle was baptizing him!
“He's reborn again, Lord Jesus. He's renewed in your Holy Spirit! He'll never be the same again, because he was born to you! He's yours! He's yours!”
But Bobby was Butterfly now and her uncle tried to dunk her in the water again, but it was as if time had stood still. She could feel his hand on the back of her head but when her face was about to hit the motionless water, she could see her face on the surface as if she was looking into a mirror.
Her face had changed from that of a youthful boy to that of a teenage girl. Her lips were full, she had on make-up and her hair was flat ironed. She was beautiful and she had gotten lost in the image. Her beauty was dreamy, and she loved what stared back at her. This was her: she knew then that she had found herself. She had been lost up until this point. The only thing that was missing were breasts and wide hips. But everything else was all she could have ever wanted.
She was lost in her beauty and had lost track of time, and seconds later, she heard her father enter her room and everything went into chaos.
“GET OUT MY HOUSE! I DON'T EVER WANT TO SEE YOU AGAIN WHILE I'M ALIVE!”
Butterfly felt her father's hate unleashed, and his fists were his vengeance. He tried to kill her, and he would have had her mother not come to her aid. But her brother just watched. He just stood there to let his mother struggle to daunt their father's strength. He just stood there as if he had no love for her. He enjoyed it as much as her father hated it. And when she ran away from her home, she knew that, that home had never been home. And now, she knew that she didn't have any place to go. She didn't belong to anyone. She was in this world all alone!
Butterfly stumbled through the streets, and she couldn't help but think that her mother wouldn't come looking for her and the thought hurt her terribly, because she didn't know if her mother had ever loved her. She ran even faster and blood leaked from her face. Her hair was now disheveled and she was nothing like the beautiful girl who had just found herself. She didn't know where to go, but there was only one place in the world where she knew she'd always be welcomed.
“Don't worry. I'll take care of you. Come and sit on my lap while I nurse your wounds. You look really nice dressed like this.” Her uncle was sick—she knew! And at the same time that she hated her life, herself, and was confused about everything, she pitied her uncle and his love, and accepted it because he had the only love that she had ever known.
Uncle Kevin led her to the top of the house, where his wife couldn't find them. He led her to the third story, and when Butterfly walked to the top and stared down the steps, it was as if death was calling her. Death seemed so cozy, welcoming. She wondered if death's love would be as queer as her uncle’s. But she felt tired, and death looked like a good bed to rest in. She felt the warmth of it, and it reminded her of her orchards filled with butterflies.
She saw the butterflies waffling around in the wind, and she knew that she could fly too, if only she stepped forward.
“I can fly . . . I'm a butterfly. I can really fly!” Her mouth uttered in a sort of distant jubilation; and she would have taken the step to meet death, had her uncle's beckoning arm not grasped her back. Bobby . . . Bobby . . . Bobby . . .
Chapter Thirty-Four
Can I Forgive Him?
Bobby Moore! Wake up, you have a visit,” the CO said, and Butterfly was pulled from her dreams.
She thought her mother had made another impromptu visit, and she dressed casually in the uniform that she must wear.
Butterfly went through the usual, being strip-searched before she could go out to the visit room, and then she walked out to the visiting room and the first person she laid eyes on was Atwater and his wife. Butterfly had to walk pass them to go to the CO's desk in the front of the visiting room.
“You have any picture tickets?” the CO asked.
“No,” Butterfly answered, hating that the COs were always mean and rude.
“You may be seated.”
Butterfly found herself an empty seat, but she sat in a place where she could keep her eyes on Atwater. She thought that Shonda was cute, but to be honest, the bitch was barking up the wrong tree. Atwater would be Butterfly's one day, she kept saying to herself. And she dreaded the truth behind it. And just when she was lost in endless thoughts, her uncle, whom she had been having nightmare after nightmare about, came out to pay her a visit.
He had the nerve to smile!
Uncle Kevin always looked good, dressed in a beige Brioni suit with a sky blue tie and handkerchief. He wore waves and he was tall. His demeanor was warm and friendly, but this same demeanor had a way of making Butterfly's skin feel like bugs were crawling on it.
“Where have you been? I've been worried sick about you.” Her uncle looked honestly worried. And for the most part of her past, her uncle would drape her in fine linen, buy or give her anything and everything she had ever wanted. He was totally against her modeling, because modeling meant that she would have her own money, and she wouldn't have to depend on him.
Butterfly didn't answer him, because she had ice in her eyes. And it had always been that way. She never showed love or kindness to him, and when he fucked her, she just stiffened up. She would lie still, and he would pour his seed in her while grunting over her. It was nasty to think about!
“I've been calling all over the place looking for you. I thought you were dead. But your mother happened to call me, and she slipped up and said that she had been writing you. And I pressed the issue, and she finally told me the truth. How could you do this to me?” His eyes were pathetic, and as always, he looked sick or ill, and when he looked that way, Butterfly felt sorry for him! Imagine that, the prey feeling sorry for the predator's hunger, knowing that it was at the destruction of its own life that the predator could feel happy and whole.
Butterfly was so mad and indisposed that she didn't recognize until after a second that Atwater had been watching her secretly for a while. Was that jealousy in his eyes? Because he wouldn't have known the relation between her and her uncle.
“What family? Have you forgotten that my father disowned me?” Tears welled in Butterfly's eyes, and she hated that he had come to visit her.
“I've never disowned you. I don't care what your father did. I've always been here for you. I've always loved you unconditionally.”
“Why are you here?” Butterfly couldn't take any more. “Do you want me to sit on your lap?” Butterfly said seductively, but she still had ice in her eyes.
He was embarrassed. “This is the wrong place to discuss or say something like that.” He looked around to see if anybody was looking. And Atwater was looking right at him. “You know better than to put family business out in the public like that. Did you check your institutional trust fund account? I put money on your account.”
“I have plenty of money, and I don't need yours.” As usual her uncle would pour gifts and money on her to get her to accept the fact that he would always be her benefactor.
“Why are you so evil-spirited? I've only raised you to love the Lord and do God's will.”
“Don't come back here anymore. If you do, I don't know what I might do to you.” Butterfly gave him a look that could kill, and for the first time, her uncle realized that she wasn't a kid anymore.
Butterfly got up and ran to the back to terminate her visit. She was crying, and she didn't want anybody to see her cry. She just ran.
* * * * * * *
“There that boy is again,” Shonda said, who had been eating lunch with Atwater. For some reason, she felt her life was tied to Butterfly's, but she could never understand what the feeling meant.
Atwater was worried about Butterfly, but he didn't give himself away. “What?”
“Turn around and look before it leaves.”
Atwater turned to see who he knew was there. He played it off. “What? It's just a fag. What you tripping for?”
But Shonda knew
something. “I didn't like the look he gave me.”
Chapter Thirty-Five
It Starts Out Good
Butterfly and Atwater signaled to each other when they left the visiting room that they would meet each other at the automatic machine at pill line. Since it was the weekend, they wouldn't be able to have privacy.
Atwater had got there before Butterfly had arrived. The night was chilly, but spring was setting in. Butterfly had on a jacket that made her look flimsy and little. She had gained back her color from when she had run out of the visit, and the thought of seeing her run out of the visit had been egging at Atwater all day.
This time Butterfly didn't stand behind Atwater in the line as she usually did, but she stood at his side.
“So that's your wife?” Butterfly knew the answer because this was the second time she had seen them together.
“What I tell you about not saying hello and seeing how I'm doing first before you start getting all crazy and shit? But yeah, that's my wife.”
“You look happy with her. You sure you got time for me?”
“Yo, real talk, I'm trying to get back to the unit so that I can handle the business at hand. Did you get the pictures I told you to bring?”
Butterfly took out six pictures and handed them to him.
“That's my baby girl. These are perfect.”
“Perfect for you. Ya already with somebody else.” Butterfly's admission was a slip, but on too many occasions she had let him know that she loved him and wanted to be with him.
Atwater studied her for a while. “Come on, I'm gonna walk with you to pill line. What's really on your mind? I'm a little amped up about all this, and I forgot to ask you about your visit. Who was that, that came to visit you today? And why did you run out?”
“That's my uncle and it's a long story.” That neither one of them had time to talk about. “And don't change the subject. I said you're already with somebody.”