The Butterfly Tattoo

by M. D. Thomas

  “Is he okay?”

  “I don’t know. An ambulance is on the way already.”

  There was a choked sound and then a heavy sigh. When Nonna spoke again her voice was calm and businesslike, but beneath that facade Harvey could hear tightly reined in fear. “Where are you?”

  “Wickenham and Hardwick.”

  “I’m coming,” Nonna said and the phone went dead.

  The ambulance arrived before Nonna but only by a couple of minutes. She wasn’t running, but she was walking at a pace that would’ve inspired someone in their fifties. She wore an unbuttoned raincoat, the hood thrown back, her hair slick from the rain.

  Nonna rushed to her husband’s side just as the paramedics were rolling Nonno gently onto a collapsible gurney, his neck already braced. The rear doors of the ambulance were open, the lights flashing. A couple of neighbors had appeared on porches, no doubt held to that distance only because of the rain.

  “Are you his wife, Ma’am?” one of the paramedics asked, a young hispanic woman who looked like she could bench press more than Harvey. He’d already told them what happened—the lie again—and filled them in on Nonno’s history.

  Nonna covered her mouth with one hand as she saw the scraped and bruising skin of the left side of Nonno’s face. She reached out and grabbed his near hand, but Nonno’s eyes only gazed blankly up at the sky above, oblivious to the rain falling on his face, the plaques that filled his mind gumming up the works yet again. “Yes. Has my grandson told you that my husband has late-stage Alzheimers?”

  “Yes, Ma’am,” the same paramedic said with a nod as her partner strapped Nonno to the gurney. “Is there anything else we should know about his health?”

  “He had lung cancer about five years ago. There haven’t been any relapses.”

  “Okay. We’re taking him to the emergency department at Fairfax Hospital. One of you can ride with us, but it might be best if you just meet us there. Is that okay?”

  Nonna looked at him and Harvey said, “Of course, we’ll be right behind you.”

  “Good,” the paramedic said. The two paramedics began to wheel Nonno toward the rear of the ambulance. “We’ll take good care of him, Ma’am, and we’ll see you in a few minutes.”

  Nonna looked as if she were about to cry. Perhaps she already was, but there was no way to tell in the rain. Harvey felt a burning sense of shame, felt as bad as he had as a small child confessing to stealing cannoli from the refrigerator.

  “Nonna, I’m so sorry. I didn’t think he—”

  “Oh, shoosh,” Nonna said as she wrapped trembling arms around him. “He’s tough. I’m sure he’ll be just fine. I know you’d never hurt him on purpose.”

  “The good news, Mrs. Aiello, is that while your husband does have an injury to his spine, it isn’t overly serious and can be treated.” Dr. Burnett was pretty, her brown hair framing a round, young face. If not for the white coat Harvey would’ve thought she wasn’t old enough to be a physician.

  “Thank goodness,” Nonna said, and Harvey saw the tension leave her shoulders, felt some of it leave his own as well. She gripped Nonno’s hand in her own, just below the I.V. poking out of his wrist. “Thank you so much for taking care of him, Dr. Burnett. You and the rest of the staff have all been magnificent.”

  Dr. Burnett smiled. “We’re glad to help. Now let me tell you a little more about what happened. Your husband has a compression fracture of one of his lumbar vertebrae. This injury is common in patients with osteoporosis, which your husband shows some evidence of. He may even of had a minor fracture there before the fall, but we’ll never know. Does that make sense?”

  “Yes,” Nonna answered.

  Dr. Burnett nodded. “Good. Your husband’s chart says he has Alzheimer’s? Is that correct?”

  “Yes.”

  “And he still lives at home with you as the primary care giver?”

  Nonna nodded. “Yes. I have some help a few times a week, but mainly just with household stuff. For now I’m still able to take care of him.”

  “And it looks like you’ve been doing an excellent job,” Dr. Burnett said. “But this injury can’t be treated at home. If he isn’t rehabilitated correctly, he’ll have a lot of pain and trouble walking, which we want to avoid. Because of that, he needs to spend some time in a recovery facility. Someplace that can help with the rehab, help him get in and out of bed in a manner that doesn’t aggravate the injury. Things like that. Does that make sense?”

  Nonna nodded, though her face looked more grim than it had before. “Is there someplace that you recommend?”

  “Yes,” Dr. Burnett said, and Harvey felt a cold certainty flow into him. “There’s an excellent facility not far from here that specializes in exactly this kind of care. You might have heard of it. It’s called Rainbow Pines.”

  Thirty-Four

  SARAH

  You think you can hurt her, Sissy? You drowned Adam to save yourself, but are you hard enough to do what’s coming for Lee?

  She was sitting outside the guest bedroom listening to the woman, listening to her mother, when her phone rang. Her cell was in the kitchen, but there was no mistaking the ringtone she’d set for Rainbow Pines.

  Lee…

  She sprinted into the kitchen and answered the phone. “Hello?”

  “Hi, Mrs. Young, this is Janet.”

  “Is Lee okay?” Sarah asked. Janet was one of Lee’s nurses.

  “Yes. More than okay actually. He’s opened his eyes. Can you come over?”

  Lee…

  She had trouble focusing as she ran through the Rainbow Pines parking lot, water splashed from puddles soaking her legs, her umbrella barely protecting the rest of her from the blowing rain.

  You shouldn’t have left Jon alone with her, Sissy…

  Her mother was right, but staying at the house hadn’t been an option, not with Lee’s eyes open. He agreed to twenty-four hours. He won’t go back on his word. Besides, he’s passed out…

  She signed in quickly and ran to Lee’s room, her heart pounding in her ears.

  Janet—a short, pretty young brunette just out of school, who liked her sweaters pink—was leaning over Lee and cleaning the surgical wounds on his head when Sarah stopped in the door, breathing hard, suddenly filled with reluctance. Janet heard her and turned, smiled and beckoned her over with the hand holding a bottle of antiseptic.

  “Come see, Mrs. Young.”

  Sarah walked slowly to the bed, one hand covering her mouth, tears already trailing down her cheeks.

  “I know it’s a term that bothers many people, Mrs. Young,” Dr. Kamarti said as he stood next to the bed examining Lee, “but it’s also fairly accurate.”

  Sarah felt numb, the rush of elation she’d felt when seeing Lee’s eyes open replaced by uncertainty. “How long could he stay like this?”

  “The vegetative state is similar to the coma itself, Mrs. Young. It could last a few days. It could last for months. There’s no way to predict what will happen or what might pull Lee out of it. Time maybe. Perhaps a lot of verbal attention. We have no way of knowing. The important thing to remember is that this is a positive development. It means Lee’s brain is healing.”

  Sarah nodded even though she didn’t feel very positive. But when she looked at Lee again, at his open but vacant eyes, she was surprised to realize that she did feel a little better. Looking at him helped. She’d seen his eyes of course, every time Dr. Kamarti or one of the nurses thumbed up his lids and shone their probing lights into his pupils to see if they were reactive, but that was hardly the same as seeing them open on their own.

  They were such beautiful eyes, so dark and liquid. Jon’s eyes. But the concave patch of skin that covered the left side of his head where the bone had been removed made his face look different. He was Lee but not Lee.

  “Do we need to do anything differently now?” Sarah asked.

  “He’ll be cared for in much the same way he has been,” Dr. Kamarti said as he stepped away from Lee a
nd faced her. “But the staff will add new therapies to his regimen based on the premise that Lee will see what is happening, even if appears he is not. They will show him objects, try to get him to follow things with his eyes. These are the small steps, the beginning steps, that could lead to farther recovery. You can show him pictures he might recognize. Anything that he sees might help. And the staff and you will need to be on the lookout for any signs of increased awareness.”

  “Is it okay to have the television on?” Sarah asked.

  Dr. Kamarti smiled and nodded, his big ears bobbing. “Of course, of course. He may watch as much of the Nationals as you like, Mrs. Young. Anything that could stimulate his brain, his memories, will help.”

  It’s all lies, Sissy. Lies, lies, and more lies…

  Sarah reached out and took Lee’s hand, gazed at his open, staring eyes, and wondered if her Lee was still in there at all.

  Sarah didn’t want to leave Lee but she had to check on the woman, whose presence in her home was more confusing than it had been before Lee opened his eyes.

  Nothing has changed, Sissy. She’s still guilty. Her and her boyfriend. You can’t let them get away with what they did to Lee…

  Sarah pulled up outside the garage and raised the door, the rain only a drizzle for the moment as the weatherman on the radio talked about cresting rivers and more rain to come. It had only been a little more than an hour since she left the house, and Sarah was surprised when the rising garage door revealed an empty folding chair.

  Sarah forgot about Lee for the first time since the phone call. She got out of the car and sprinted into the house, slapped the button on her way past that would close the garage door as she imagined the woman trying to run away, then ran through the empty kitchen and down the hall to the spare bedroom.

  The woman was sitting up on the bed, her still chained hands working frantically at the knotted ropes that held her ankles to the bed. Jon lay on the floor, a thin trickle of blood trailing down his cheek.

  “Help!” the woman screamed when she saw Sarah, her eyes frantic as she tried to unravel a knot. “Help me! Help me!”

  Sure the screams could be heard blocks away, Sarah ran forward without stopping to think and drove a balled fist into the side of the woman’s head, the impact making a sharp pain bloom in her hand. The woman’s head snapped to the side and she fell onto the mattress, the screams replaced by a moan.

  Good, Sissy!

  Sarah hurried around the bed. The woman wasn’t unconscious, but her eyes rolled in their sockets and Sarah knew she only had moments before the woman gathered her wits enough to put up a fight. Grunting, she ignored the pain in her hand and shoved the woman back into the middle of the mattress, threw her limp arms back over her head. She knelt on the bed and tied up the woman’s wrists once more, then searched for the gag. She spotted it on the nightstand, so she scooted off the bed and grabbed it.

  “Fuck,” the woman muttered, blinking hard. Sarah shoved the twisted gag between the woman’s jaws and pulled the loop over head. The woman began to struggle harder, speaking garbled curses through the gag. It wouldn’t keep her as quiet as the rag that had been stuffed in her mouth earlier, but Sarah didn’t think she’d be able to make enough noise to alert the neighbors. She checked the knots at the woman’s ankles and found they were fine. She hadn’t had much time to try and undo them apparently. A glance at the head of the bed told her the new knots at the woman’s wrists weren’t great but they were holding well enough. Sarah would know soon enough with the way the woman was thrashing.

  Sarah slumped to the floor, shaking as the adrenaline bled out of her system. The pain in her hand was intense and it was already starting to swell around her knuckles. She needed to get ice on it but that couldn't happen until she stood up. The way her legs felt suggested that wasn’t a good idea yet.

  She crawled over to Jon and tapped him on the cheek to see if he would stir, but he didn’t budge. Was that because of the hit to his head or because of how much he’d drank? She had no idea.

  Taking a deep breath, she used the side of the bed to get to her feet, wincing at the pain in her hand as she pushed upwards. She felt a little light-headed, but after a couple of deep breaths her legs felt steadier and she was fairly certain she wouldn't faint.

  Sissy…

  I know. You were right, I shouldn’t have trusted him…

  Shaking, Sarah walked to Jon’s feet. She grabbed his ankles and pulled, her hand throbbing like it’d been clamped in a vise. He was heavy, but he slid easily across the hardwood. She dragged him out of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom.

  Sarah dumped a cup of cold water on Jon’s face. He didn’t sputter and shake like they did on television, but his eyes peeled open a moment later. Then he promptly rolled onto his side and vomited on the floor. When he was done heaving, he made it to his knees and rocked onto his heels, stared at her as spittle dangled from his lips. He had trouble focusing.

  “What happened?”

  Sarah grabbed a hand towel from next to the sink and tossed it onto his lap before she sat on the edge of the tub, her injured hand cradled against her stomach. “She hit you I guess. Did she get loose on her own or did you do it?”

  You already know, Sissy…

  Jon blinked a couple of times as the cogs turned slowly in his beer-addled brain. “I did it,” he said after a moment. He picked up the towel and scrubbed his mouth.

  “Why?”

  “We aren’t that kind of people,” Jon slurred as he dropped the towel. “Least I thought we weren’t.”

  Lee didn’t come to him, Sissy. He doesn’t care about Lee the way you do…

  “Lee deserves justice,” Sarah said. “Any decent parents would do the same.”

  Jon opened his mouth but then shut it again with a clack of teeth. He shifted around until his back was against the side of the tub and then rested his forehead on his drawn up knees. “I just want things the way they were.”

  “They’ll never be that way again,” Sarah said. “Even if Lee makes a full recovery. There’s no going back, and no amount of drinking will make the problems we have right now disappear.”

  Jon was silent for so long before he answered that Sarah thought he might have fallen asleep. “She shouldn’t be here, Sarah.”

  It was old territory, so she changed the subject. “Lee opened his eyes.”

  Jon’s head snapped up, his eyes wide. “He’s awake?”

  “No. He’s in a vegetative state. We’ll have to start trying to stimulate him visually.”

  Jon wobbled to his feet. “I want to see him.”

  “No. You’re still drunk.”

  “I’m fine,” Jon said, even as he had to shift his feet around to steady himself.

  “You’re not,” Sarah said as she stood. “And you’re still bleeding. You can’t drive and I’m not taking you there when you’re drunk. Take a shower. Clean up the mess you just made on the floor. Drink some coffee. Do whatever you have to do to sober up. Then we’ll go.” Whatever mistakes he’d made, he deserved to see his son’s eyes open once more.

  I hope you’ve learned from your mistake, Sissy…

  I have…

  Sarah peered into the spare bedroom, hoped to get an unguarded look at the woman. She wasn’t thrashing around anymore, her head tilted backward, her chin pointed up at the ceiling. Tears ran down her temples and into her thick curly hair.

  It’s working, Sissy. She’ll talk soon…

  Seeing the woman suffer didn’t make Sarah happy. But she didn’t feel any pity for her either.

  Sarah entered the room and the woman glared at her with watery eyes as Sarah made sure the ropes were still secure. “You shouldn’t have taken advantage of my husband like that.” The woman’s eyes were filled with hatred. Well, let her hate. “Have you remembered anything else?”

  The woman uttered an expletive around the gag.

  “Your choice,” Sarah said. “You can have some water later, but don’t expect
any food. A little hunger might change your mind about talking.”

  Sarah left the lights on as she exited the room.

  Thirty-Five

  HARVEY

  Dr. Burnett recommended sending Nonno directly from the emergency room to Rainbow Pines. “He’ll be cared for well there,” she told Nonna, “and he can start therapy immediately.”

  Harvey listened, but heard little. Rainbow Pines… It’s where the boy is. Maybe that’s what the kid wants. He wants me to be there with him… The kid and the boy were still separate in his mind, but their paths were converging—he kept forgetting which one he was thinking about, and when he thought of one, he thought of the other.

  “Harvey?”

  Nonna’s voice was concerned. Harvey looked up and realized the doctor had gone, leaving the three of them alone in the room. Harvey tried to recall what he’d heard and failed.

  “Yes, Nonna?”

  “Are you okay?”

  Harvey nodded. “Sure. Just upset.”

  Nonna gave him a tiny smile and patted his knee. “It’s fine, Harvey. These things happen. Nonno wouldn’t be mad at you and neither am I. Okay?”

  Harvey nodded, but her words did nothing to ease his guilt. His gaze kept returning to a scrape on Nonno’s cheek.

  “Can you go home and get some clothes for Nonno and I, and bring them to Rainbow Pines? I don’t want to leave him during the transfer but we’ll need them.”

  Harvey nodded. “Of course.”

  “Can you get Nonno’s medicine as well? Do you remember where it is?”

  Harvey nodded again. “I’ll get everything you need.”

  “Expect another eight to twelve inches overnight, folks. It just keeps coming and there’s no end in sight until Thursday at the earliest. Make sure you stay away from all the local waterways as they start to rise above—”