by Wahida Clark
The following day, Butterfly was scheduled to fly to Miami to get the operation that would make her a woman. She had been doing the psychological evaluation to make sure it was what she wanted to do, and the evaluation took five months to do and the hell with it! She could live without a penis. It wasn't like she ever used it anyway, other than to piss, and it was disgusting for her that it was attached to her body, no matter how small and ridiculous it was.
When she arrived at the airport, she was whisked off to the doctor's office and once there, she was placed in a small room where she was given anesthesia. And two cosmetic surgeons went to work as the anesthesia worked on Butterfly.
She, she, she—she was at the hospital and Atwater was standing there at her bedside. He was yelling for her to push, and the more she pushed the more pain Butterfly felt. And it was almost as if her body was being ripped in two. She felt sharp knives cutting on her, and she felt the blood pour from between her legs, and she pushed harder and harder.
Atwater grabbed her hand and sweat poured from her head as she pushed harder and harder.
The doctor was screaming for her to run—to run and never turn back! But Atwater was there, and she'd never run from him and the more she pushed, the harder he held her hand. And at that instant the doctors cried out victoriously and celebrated as Atwater looked on in amusement and smoked a cigar.
“It's a girl!” they screamed
When the anesthesia had worn off, Butterfly came to. She was now a full-fledge woman, but what was more apparent from her dream: Shonda had had a baby girl.
Butterfly flew back to DC three days later. It was the most amazing feeling that she was now complete. She had to heal fast so that she could lose her virginity to Atwater. She was still in pain, which made her temper quick and edgy.
She had called Atwater, and he didn't answer his phone. Somebody had stolen his phone and he had to get another number, but how could she have known? When he didn't answer his phone, Butterfly freaked out and called his house.
Shonda picked up the phone on the first ring.
“Is Mace in?”
“No. May I ask who’s calling?”
What Butterfly said next was done on purpose. “Can you tell him Butterfly called?”
It took a minute for it to register in Shonda's hearing, but then it dawned on her instantly. “This wouldn't be the Butterfly he was in jail with?”
Butterfly knew she had taken it too far, and she hung up.
Jail Talk Versus Street Talk…
That night, when Atwater came home, Shonda had leaned into him. She couldn't even finish making dinner, and the baby kept crying as if she knew what her mother was going through. Shonda was livid!
“Why the hell is that boy calling here? I heard you talking about him to Tyler, and I distinctly remember the way he looked at me during a visit when you were in jail.”
Atwater had to play it cool, because this shit was not cool at all. “You're overreacting. I had her—”
“Her? What the hell do you mean her?” Shonda had heard it all! This was ridiculous!
“I put 'him' on the Internet, and we used him to get some tricks to get some money—that's the honest to God's truth.”
Atwater had thought about those tricks, many of whom were heartbroken when Butterfly had gotten released from jail, and they’d never heard from her again. They tried to find her, but Butterfly had changed her name, and it was as if she were a ghost. The tricks felt scandalized, but what could they do now?
“You're lying, Mace!”
“What the hell you saying then? You saying I'm fucking a punk?” This was the hour of truth, and when Atwater leveled the question at her like that, it did sound impossible.
“I didn't say that, but why would he hang up when I asked him a simple question?”
“I don't know?”
“You think I'm stupid, don't you?” She was, she knew, because she'd never ever believe that Atwater would be one of those creeps who were on the down-low and leading a double life—fucking what she thought to be a punk! The thought was unnerving, impossible even! But she just couldn't let the idea go that easy, because it all made her feel ambivalent. “I remember how he looked at me during the visit, Mace!” she screamed.
“I don't know. Maybe he thought you were cute.”
“Damn it, Mace!” Shonda could have laughed or cried, because Atwater was making light of it. “That wasn't the look he gave me. It was a look like you all had something going on.”
“You know what? You need to stop watching those talk shows. That shit is messing with your head.”
“I'm going to get to the bottom of this!”
“Just keep your snooping ass out of my office.”
“This is my house too!” Shonda was so mad with grief, her hands were shaking. Atwater had only been home ten months, and he had already begun to run the streets all in the name of ‘I got to catch up!’ She could almost spit the words back in his face, because now they had three beautiful kids together, and for at least one of them he could be there.
She never expected to get pregnant so soon, but his dick felt so good after all those unrighteous years of her forced celibacy, that she made sure she sexed him nightly. That only lasted a month, until he started flying all over the country and chasing a dream that consisted of power, influence, mansions, exotic cars, and money in the bank that would ensure their children’s future.
But what was it with this Butterfly thing coming back into the picture? She remembered seeing that ‘thing’ and thinking that their lives were somehow tied in something she still could not understand. The thought of it was enough to get a gun and kill Atwater! Yet, she could never believe that her Mace, the father of their three beautiful children, could ever lay up with a thing like Butterfly.
But she would get to the bottom of it . . .
She was brought out of her grief when she heard their three-week-old daughter Nyla crying. As she gave her daughter a warm bottle of formula, and while she fed Nyla, she could see how she could forgive Atwater for even the gravest unpardonable sin if she had to.
It Was The Girlie Thing To Do…
Atwater could kill Butterfly! He couldn't believe this imbecile-shit. And it was the least he'd ever expect coming from her! After all the shit he had explained to her while they were locked down, and she was trying to tear at the seams of his life.
He hopped on his chartered private jet and flew to DC immediately. He walked into the penthouse suite and slammed the door.
“Butterfly, what kind of idiot shit caused you to call my wife!”
Butterfly was in pain, and she could barely move her legs as she lay on the couch looking at the HDTV big screen. She was agitated, in love, lonely, and she just exploded. “I don't care! Fuck that bitch! Just leave her so it can be me and you.”
“Was that your plan all along?”
“What the hell do you think? I've given the better part of myself to you! That bitch just rode the wave, and she's reaping the reward of my hard work.”
Atwater couldn't believe what he just heard. He loved Butterfly more than life, but his life had order, and he wasn't willing to throw it all to the wind.
“You know this means I have to chill on you until things calm down?”
“What do you mean? You said you'd never leave me!” Butterfly couldn't even stand. Atwater was about to start for the door and she couldn't stop him, because she wanted to run into his arms and tell him that she was sorry and everything was all right and would be all right and they would be together forever, and she would always have his love.
“That was before you tried to destroy my family! Yo, you're on your own!” Atwater started for the door, but Butterfly's piercing cries shredded his heart in two. He loved her. Honestly he did, but she had to learn this lesson well. There was no way she would be allowed to ruin his life. He turned around. “I did nothing but love you, and this is how you repay me?”
“Don't leave!” Butterfly cried as she tri
ed to crawl toward him. “Don't leave! You said you'd never leave. You're my life!”
Atwater hesitated. He didn't feel so bad now that he saw her like that on the ground, and it was easier to forgive and forget. He wanted to pick her up and hold her in his arms. But she had to learn!
“I'm out.” Atwater stormed out of the door and went to see Old School across the way.
But, but, Butterfly panicked. She went berserk and grabbed her phone and called Atwater over and over again and he didn't answer! She went crazy.
She thought she had arrived at the end of her life and all her beauty and youth could be summed up in two words. Those two words had haunted her forever, and she saw it every time her father and brother looked at her. It was so disturbing and confusing that she went to great lengths to cure how people viewed her.
It was two words that described why she had to find pleasure in a man slamming his dick up her ass, when it was on rare occasions that she could get her own pleasure. She hated to face the truth of it, but the same words came hurling back into her face and it felt like a sharp slap.
Butterfly wouldn’t accept it, but somehow she already had. She had carved her body out, and divested it of its wholeness because of the words that so neatly described her. She had to say it to herself! She had to confess it, and she hollered out the words that were once leveled at her: “TWISTED FREAK!”
And it was those words that caused her great grief. She crawled to her wet bar and guzzled down liquor that poured down her silk robe. She just had to make it to her bathroom. She knew she'd never feel pain ever again.
Her stitches had torn and she was bleeding profusely. She hobbled to the bathroom, rummaged through her medicine cabinet, and took as many pills as she could. Butterfly took the lot of them all, and miraculously enough, the pain was deadened.
She floated and she floated and she floated . . . much like a butterfly. Her head felt numb and her heart slowed. Her mind played tricks on her and the floor under her moved and she tripped and fell to the ground.
Her father was on top of her pummeling her with his fists, and when she thought it to be her father, it was Clayton, and her father had Clayton's face and Clayton had her father's face.
Her heart sped up and it was beating too fast and she cried out for help. But when the help didn't come, she cried out, “Stop Daddy! I love you. I swear I do! Please just stop beating me! I'm going to die, Daddy, and I love you-I love you! Please stop, Daddy. Please save me, Daddy! Please don't kill me!”
But it was Clayton who pounded away and threatened her. “I wish I never met you, faggot! You killed my mother, you faggot bitch! Die, sissy!”
“No I didn't! Please don't kill me, Clayton! I deserve to live!”
But then kids appeared and they danced in a circle around Butterfly and teased her. “You're a sissy, you're a fag—you're a girl and you're on your rag.” And they repeated the song infinitely.
“I'm not-I'm not! Stop it! Shut up! Shut up! I'm not a fag or a sissy! I'm a human being! Why won't y’all just let me live!” Her cries went unheard as she imagined Peyton smacking her again and hearing Peyton’s hateful words: “I hope you kill yourself, you TWISTED FREAK!”
Butterfly found the strength to make it to her feet, and the ground rocked under her. She hobbled to her penthouse balcony, looked over the lights of the city, and they were moving. Her mind was watery and she, she, she, she saw tall glades of grass and her arms brushed the grass as she ran into her favorite orchard that was filled with butterflies. She ran to catch one, but the butterfly floated beyond her reach. Butterfly tried to catch the butterfly because she was blinded by the butterfly's beauty. It flew so softly on the sun-drenched wind that Butterfly longed to have wings to fly. She stood on the banister of the balcony and when she felt the warm current of the wind, she thought that she could fly. And before she could leap, she slipped off the ledge and fell back into her penthouse suite.
* * * * * *
Atwater had been across the street at Old School’s penthouse suite, and Old School had the young girl by now eating out of the palm of his hand. Atwater spoke to Old School for about an hour, and Old School explained to him that you never, never, never, ever leave emotionally unstable people alone with the threat of you leaving their life forever. Especially after you have been the force that has enabled them to change. Old School’s experience revealed to him that, that’s how you turn a good girl bad.
Atwater, as always, agreed with Old School, and they walked across the street to the penthouse suite that Atwater shared with Butterfly.
“Butterfly, where the hell are you?” It was the third time Atwater had yelled her name, and now he had grown worried after Old School gave him an ‘I told you so’ look.
Atwater went to his bedroom, and saw the doors to his balcony wide open. When he walked over to shut them, he found Butterfly lying in a pool of blood.
“Old School, call 911! Hurry up and call 911!” Atwater’s cries pierced through the silence of the night as he heard Old School dialing the number.
“Wake up, Butterfly!” Atwater screamed as he held her in his arms and checked her pulse. It was beating slow enough for her to be as good as dead! “Call 911, Old School!”
“They’re on their way,” Old School said as he returned to Atwater’s side.
Moments later, the ambulance arrived, and they applied CPR as they rushed Butterfly to Howard University Hospital. The doctors had pumped her stomach and had lost her twice. She struggled for her life as Atwater sat with Old School in the waiting area.
Atwater’s mind flashed on all the good times they had up until that point. For all it was worth, the love he had for her had to see past everything he was brought up to believe about people being different. He had taken her out of the context of being a social evil and realized she was a human being with fears, love, and aspirations like everybody else. But nothing was evil about Butterfly, and she was the best prettiest person he had ever met. And it made him think about when Old School told him there wasn’t anything evil—it was the programming. People always programmed themselves to hate anything that was different. But his mind couldn’t grasp why she would want to kill herself. Between tearful eyes, he asked Old School, “Why would she try and kill herself?”
Old School looked at him with knowing eyes, as he said, “It was the girlie thing to do.”
The cruelty of realizing and understanding what Old School had said summed up Butterfly’s whole existence—what she had always tried to make Atwater understand: she was a 100% black woman.
As those thoughts sunk in, the sun was rising in the distance, as Butterfly continued to fight for her life.
Butterfly Reading Group Questions
1) How do you think readers who have been molested by close family members and those who were no relation to them could learn something from Butterfly's story?
2). Is there anything anybody in Butterfly's family could have done to keep her from using drugs or becoming a homosexual?
3). Do you think Butterfly should forgive her mother, possibly her father and brother, or her uncle for what they had done to her?
4). What do you believe the reader could take from the double life Butterfly's uncle led? Does it send the wrong message regarding prosperous pastors of mega-churches?
5). Do you think there are transgender who can lead a successful modeling career and model in some of our most widely viewed magazines, movies, and clothing lines, as the opposite sex without anybody knowing?
6). Why does Old School and Atwater have so much ambition for being powerful? Do you believe their experiences with the judicial system, being incarcerated and their harsh sentences have anything to do with it?
7). Do you think that Atwater is gay? And if so, do you believe he should tell his wife Shonda and his children?
8). Do you think it's right for Atwater to set up politicians and judges to acquire wealth and power?
9). Do you think the politicians and judges will try and take r
evenge on Atwater because of the dirt he holds over them?
10). If there was one message in the book that Butterfly wanted to convey the most to the readers, what do you believe it would be?
About the Author
Michael A. Robinson has always been described as having a gift for creating stories that make fictional stories mirror real life. He hails from Carson, California which is a city in the harbor area of Los Angeles County.
He grew up in an era in LA where people were trying to make their dreams reality, and he has persisted in this mindset by keeping true to his core beliefs of: reach one, teach one.
Growing up in a gang infested environment, having traveled extensively around the Nation, and having lived 2 years in Brazil as a fugitive, he has an aspect of life that is rare and jewel. All this is exemplified in his writing . . . a writing style that is fluid and natural, raw, yet real.
Fan address: Michael A. Robinson
#17572-074
USP Big Sandy
P.O. Box 2068
Inez, KY 41224
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Tiffany Anderson "Leading Natural Hair Expert...." -- Reader's DigestWomen always want to look good. And looking good starts with a fresh face and slayed hair. Whether it be straight or natural, no woman wants to have a bad hair day. If only there was a guide to help women make the right choices for beautiful, strong, and healthy hair without breaking the bank. In Hair Therapy, Trichologist,Tiffany Anderson does just that! In this prescriptive manual, Tiffany. Anderson offers advice from deciding to go natural and committing to the big chop, to hair care regimens, dealing with hair loss and which products to use and avoid, as well as handling various scalp disorders. If you're looking for tips on maintaining healthy, beautiful hair, this book is for you.In this prescriptive manual, readers will learn to:· Make educated decisions as to whether or not natural hair is right for you. · Reach your hair-length goal. · Maintain short hair after the "big chop".· Discover hair care regimens to produce strong, healthy hair. · Deal with hair loss. · Scalp Treatments. · How to find the right products for your hair.And much, much more!"As a seasoned Natural hair professional Tiffany has poured her years of hairdressing/and healing scalps onto the pages of Hair Therapy with the hopes of healing the many hair issues both men and women in our community have dealt with for years." -Wahida Clark NYT-Bestselling Author/PublisherAfter reading I Love My Natural Hair, actress/comedian& author, Kim Coles shared, "I wish that I had this book when I was growing up so that I could've made empowered choices instead of wishing that my hair looked like a beauty standard that was mostly unattainable. With today's confusing media messages, it is so important for us to encourage our young girls to embrace their own special brand of beauty. Thank you for this!" -Kim Coles Actress/Comedian