Butterfly Arising

by Landis Lain

  Suleiman nodded. “Here,” he said. “Hand the baby to me. I’ll carry him to the car and you can grab the diaper bag.”

  Sasha handed Ricky to Suleiman. He went willingly. Suleiman adjusted the little boy on his shoulder and stood up. The baby closed his eyes.

  “Nap time,” Suleiman said as she fell into step beside him. They walked through the garden, which was beautiful even with the falling leaves. “This little dude is really cool.” He returned to their prior conversation.

  “Your mom probably didn’t want you to have a baby so young, is all.”

  Sasha nodded. “Yeah I was young. And I can understand. Because sometimes, like when he’s screaming and won’t go to sleep at night, I don’t want a baby either. But then, he’ll smile at me and I think, it’s just me and Ricky against the world, you know?” She reached over and patted the baby’s back softly. “I might love this little boy!”

  When they got the car and put the baby inside Suleiman said, “The game comes on in an hour. You want to come over and watch it?”

  Sasha sighed regretfully. “No, I’d better put him down or he will be a cranky monster tonight.”

  “Well, how about I grab some chips and stuff and come over. I’ll drop you off first and then we will watch the game,” said

  Suleiman. “It’s not fun to watch it by myself.” He looked so pitiful Sasha did not have the heart to say no.

  “You do like football, don’t you?”

  “Uh, yeah,” she said, squinting her eyes at that bit of chauvinism. “I do like football. Who doesn’t? Besides, I’m a Spartan!”

  He dropped her off at her apartment and she leaned in, “This was nice. Thank you for bringing us.” She kissed his cheek.

  “My pleasure,” said Suleiman, smiling like he’d won the lottery. “Be back in a few.”

  ***

  “I got a bunch of different stuff,” said Suleiman. He was weighed down by two pizzas, a bag of burgers and grocery bags. He put the grocery bags on the counter and started pulling stuff out.

  “Who is going to eat all of that?” asked Sasha, her eyes big.

  “We are,” said Suleiman. He flashed a wicked grin. “The football game lasts like four hours on TV, you know?”

  Sasha laughed.

  “I got different sodas,” he said.

  “You mean pop?” asked Sasha, closing Ricky’s bedroom door

  “Only in Michigan,” said Suleiman. “Everywhere else, they call it soda. I was in the Marines. They broke me of saying pop.”

  “How about we compromise,” said Sasha “We will say soda pop.”

  “I like the way you think,” said Suleiman as he started taking two-liter bottles out of the bags.

  “I got Coke for me. I didn’t know what you liked so I got Orange Crush, Sprite, Root beer and Mountain Dew.” He turned with the bottle of Mountain Dew in his hand.

  Sasha recoiled and then smacked the Mountain Dew out of his hand. It crashed to the floor and the bottle burst, yellow soda bubbling out onto the floor.

  “What the heck?” Suleiman stared at her and then at the puddle of soda. Then, he narrowed his eyes. She backed against the counter, staring at him with wild eyes.

  “Whoa,” he said holding up his hands. “What did I do?”

  Sasha stood, stunned for moment and then turned and grabbed a towel off the counter.

  “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m really sorry.” She dropped to her knees with the dishtowel and tried to mop up the soda pop. She heard Suleiman go in to the bathroom. She blinked rapidly and bit her lip. A few seconds later, Suleiman was kneeling on the floor next to her cleaning up the spill with a bath towel. He gently moved her saturated towel out of the way.

  “You know you could have just told me that you don’t drink Mountain Dew,” he said, dryly. They finished wiping. Sasha got to her feet first. She looked down at him. He met her eyes.

  “I…” she started. She whirled away and stuck the towels in the sink. She stashed the Mountain Dew bottle as far into the trash as it would go. “Can we just watch the game?”

  Suleiman got up off the floor.

  “Yeah,” he said, eyeing her closely. “You get the snacks together. I’ll turn it on.” Suleiman grabbed the bottle of Coke and a burger. He took the few steps to the living room and

  searched the couch for the remote. The sounds of the marching band filled the room. Suleiman turned it down, so it wouldn’t disturb the baby. He slumped on the floor in front of the couch and kicked his shoes off.

  Sasha went into the bathroom and held onto the sink while she composed herself. She inhaled deeply and tamped down the nausea.

  “Get it together, girl,” she whispered to her reflection in the bathroom mirror. After a few minutes, she left the bathroom. Sasha got the snacks ready in the kitchen and walked stiffly with a tray laden with the pizza, chips, salsa and another Coke for Suleiman. She dreaded making the explanation that he was sure to demand.

  She sat down next to him on the couch and put the tray down on the floor in front of her. He met her eyes, still puzzled, but asked no questions.

  “I don’t really drink pop,” she said. She held up a bottle of water.

  “Okay,” he said. “Water it is.” He turned to the game and they watched in silence for a few minutes. Sasha relaxed.

  “So,” he said. “Do you need me to explain the game?”

  “No!” said Sasha, smacking him lightly on the shoulder with the back of her hand. “I told you I know football.”

  “I think you said you like football,” said Suleiman. “If you know so much what is that guy?” He pointed to the television as the player tossed the ball. A second player caught it and ran with it.

  Sasha whooped and then put her fingers to her lips and glanced guiltily toward Ricky’s door but heard no sound. She breathed a sigh of relief and looked at Suleiman mischievously.

  “Let me school you, dude. That first player was the quarterback,” she explained. “He threw the ball to the wide out. The receiver then ran the ball in for a touchdown and MSU is up six nothing!”

  Suleiman looked at her in awe. “You really do know football!”

  “Yes,” said Sasha. She stuck out her tongue at him and he grinned in response. She grabbed a chip from the bowl and crunched down on it.

  “I’m in love,” said Suleiman. He turned back to the game. “You must be the perfect woman. Let me know when you are ready to get married.” He grabbed a slice of pizza and bit into it with gusto.

  “Whatever,” said Sasha, watching Suleiman swig his Coke straight from the bottle. He wasn’t going to ask her about the Mountain Dew. She relaxed and settled in to enjoy the game.

  REJECTED

  October 6

  So, are Suleiman and I friends? He and Ricky love each other. It’s cool to watch. But what about me? Where do I fit in? What is love? Is it a feeling or an action? I’ve often wondered. My Daddy told me that he loved me. He used to kiss me and kiss me. Until he started kissing Althea. Yesterday, I was watching “Cinderella” with Whitney Houston and Brandy in it and there she was, the wicked stepmother. And I thought to myself, maybe she wouldn’t be wicked if Cinderella’s Daddy had put his foot down in the beginning. Except, then he died and left Cinderella at the mercy of a monster. Girls can never catch a break. Cinderella had to leave the only home she’d ever known to go live with the prince. I guess step mama got to keep the home. And even if it turned out okay, that was foul. Cinderella could have been walking into a terrible place with nothing to call her own, and a really mean prince, because people don’t tell you who they are at the beginning of the ball. Cinderella got a prince, though, which is how I know it’s a fairy tale. Princes are not real. I’m still bitter about that.

  What’s worse, my daddy is still alive. He used to tell me that I was his forever princess and I

  could come to him for anything. His door was always open, but when I got pregnant, he gave me a couple hundred dollars and a hug. He didn’t give me a home. I gu
ess his door was always open, so I could walk out of it. And I didn’t get a prince out of the deal either. I got a homeless shelter. Althea, she won, again. She got to keep the home. Stepmother’s two – princesses - zilch.

  I just met Suleiman,” said Sasha. “But he comes over to see Ricky a lot, like a weekend daddy.”

  “How does that make you feel?” asked Dr. Michelle.

  “How do you think?” asked Sasha. “My baby has no daddy but this dude I just met somehow automatically loves my kid.”

  “Are you jealous?”

  “I don’t know,” said Sasha. “My daddy said he loved me. But here I am. I wasn’t a good daughter. I rejected him. But, when I got pregnant I asked for help, he gave me a couple hundred bucks and sent me on my way. He didn’t really want me. Daddy made his choice and it was not me.”

  “Do you think maybe he just didn’t know how to deal with the problem of your pregnancy?” asked Dr. Michelle. “He hadn’t seen you in what two or three years? Maybe he was caught off guard.”

  Sasha snorted. “Yeah, me too.”

  “Didn’t you tell him that you didn’t want to see him?”

  “I did,” said Sasha. “But I was a kid. He didn’t do anything else I asked him to do. Why would he just give up on me like that?”

  “Have you told him that you have a child?”

  “No,” said Sasha. “When I was in the homeless shelter he and mama might have been in contact with one another. I don’t know because I didn’t have a phone. I assume that once I came back to her house, she let him know that I was back. Or not. I never asked.”

  “Maybe you should,” said Dr. Michelle. “Contact him, I mean.”

  “Why?”

  “To tell him that he has a grandson.”

  “He already has a son,” said Sasha. “Nope. Two sons. Gotta count Teddy because he got to stay when I got to leave. My son won’t matter to him. Teddy wasn’t even related, and he chose Teddy.”

  “Sounds like you might have an unresolved issue.”

  “No offense, Dr. Michelle,” said Sasha, her voice harsh. “It’s resolved. My daddy lives the same distance from me as I live from him. He has a good job and an excellent phone plan. And a car to drive. The only thing between us is space and opportunity. He hasn’t taken the opportunity to close the space between us for this long. Why would I?”

  She held her hands out, palms up.

  “I don’t know,” said Dr. Michelle, reaching over to take Sasha’s hands. She locked eyes with Sasha over the top of her rhinestone covered cat eye glasses. “The question is, do you want to know?”

  “Know what?”

  “Why your dad hasn’t taken the opportunity to see you,” said Dr. Michelle. “You think about it. Think about telling him how much you’ve missed him and how much his rejection hurt you.”

  Sasha felt the hard cold in her chest harden just a bit further.

  “What good would that do?”

  “Never know until you try.”

  NAMED

  October 12, Columbus Day

  Craig used to call me sweet sticky thang after this old Ohio Players song. He liked a lot of old songs. I thought it was cute. Then he and his boys changed it to sweet skanky thang, and it stuck, because they said it. But I’m no skank. What’s a name about, anyway? It reminds me of Columbus Day. It’s funny how Columbus discovered America. Like he came to my house and saw me at home and said, “Hey, I just discovered your house was here.” Like it didn’t exist before he got there. Like I didn’t exist before Craig labeled me. What’s up with that? I used to call Craig my gentle dragon, because he was different with me. I thought he loved me. Craig was going to rescue me from loneliness and I was going to save the bad boy from the streets. I ignored the coked-up, money grubbing Komodo dragon while he tossed trap queen gifts in my lap in exchange for my body and heart. Turns out I needed somebody to rescue me from my own stupidity. My ability to romanticize Satan in pretty boy skin was pathetic. It is interesting how people look at themselves and then how they look at me. Like what they call me is how it is.

  I gave my baby the name Ricardo Damon. I wanted Damon to be his daddy, but I wanted him to have his own name, too. I wanted it to be unrelated to anybody else’s dumb stuff. I used to watch “I Love Lucy” reruns and I loved the name

  Ricky Ricardo. Is that a stupid way to name a baby or what? When I get older, I bet I got some ‘splainin’ to do to my son.

  “What does the T stand for in Sasha T. Anderson?” asked Suleiman. They were sitting in one of the study rooms in the library, but not getting much work done. Suleiman was trying to finish up his thousand-word paper on gun control, but lost momentum around word five hundred. For the past five minutes Sasha had been doodling her name over and over in the margin of her notebook instead of chemistry. The sun was going down. They both were ready to head home.

  “It stands for Tamar. I don’t use it.”

  “Don’t you like your middle name?”

  “It’s okay,” said Sasha with a shrug. “It was just another bone to fight over for Mama and Daddy.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Daddy told me that he wanted to name me Alexandra Violet Anderson,” said Sasha. “Mama wanted Rebekah Mariam, you know, biblical names. The only thing they agreed on was no ‘Boo Boo’ type names.

  “What’s a ‘Boo Boo’ name?”

  “Something made up,” said Sasha. “Daddy said they wanted my name to have a meaning.”

  “Oh, I get it,” said Suleiman, chuckling. “My uncle Pookie is like that. Everybody calls him that. I bet he didn’t know his own real name until he started school. I didn’t know his name was Ronald until I got grown.”

  “Daddy said they fought over it for months until they compromised on Sasha Tamar. Neither one of them was satisfied.”

  “Well, it’s a pretty name,” said Suleiman. “Do you know what it means?”

  “I looked it up once,” said Sasha. She got up and walked over to the window and looked out. It was dark. The branches of the trees and bushes looked menacing, like grasping claws. She was glad that Suleiman was there to walk her home. The dark scared her silly. She turned back to Suleiman to answer his question.

  “My first name is the nickname for Alexandra and it means Guardian of mankind. My middle name is in the bible. It means palm date or upright. Mama told me that it meant the righteous guardian of God’s people or something dumb like that.” Sasha snorted.

  “How’d they get Sasha out of Alexandra?”

  “It’s a mystery,” said Sasha, shrugging. “But President Obama’s daughter is called Sasha and I think her name is Natasha. Names don’t make sense.”

  “Tell me what you really think.”

  “I’m just glad my name’s not something really dumb.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “It’s at least pronounceable and from this century,” said Sasha, with a shrug.

  “Violet, ugh!” Suleiman laughed.

  “I’m definitely the guardian of a baby,” continued Sasha. “And Ricky will grow up to be a man.” She walked back over to the study table and started gathering her laptop and books. It was time to go and pick Ricky up from daycare and get dinner started. She stifled a sigh.

  “That’s clever,” said Suleiman. “Your parents pegged you dead on.”

  “I don’t know about the righteous part, though,” said Sasha, zipping up her backpack and slinging it over one shoulder. “I don’t think baby mamas can be righteous.”

  “You know you could jack up your shoulder carrying it like that,” said Suleiman. He shrugged into his jacket and then grabbed the book bag strap.

  “Hand it here, I can carry it for you. Why didn’t you buy your books online?”

  “Nah,” said Sasha, repositioning the bag on her shoulder. “You’ve got your own. Anyway, my Bio book weighs like ten pounds by itself. And I hate online books. Too hard to highlight.”

  “You shouldn’t have to carry all that heavy stuff,” he s
aid. He hoisted his own book bag to his shoulders like it was filled with tissue paper. “What you got in there besides books? Rocks?”

  “Boy, please,” said Sasha, rolling her eyes. “I carry around a forty-pound baby, a diaper bag and the book bag when I take Ricky to daycare in the morning. I don’t have time to jog back to the apartment in between classes like you do.”

  They headed to the doors closest to the bus stop and stood for a few minutes in the cold waiting for the campus bus to come.

  “I hate taking the bus,” griped Suleiman. “Dang, it’s the chili bean out here tonight.” He hunched his shoulders against the cold.

  “Don’t whine,” said Sasha. “At least you have a car.” She pulled the hood of her coat over her head.

  “Yeah, but there is no place to park it when I’m in class,” said Suleiman, pulling on black leather gloves. “So, I just walk. We can walk home, you know.”

  “Not tonight,” said Sasha. “I’m cold and exhausted.”

  “Gimme the book bag,” he said. He grabbed the straps again.

  “No,” said Sasha, snatching the bag away. “You’re not carrying everything like I’m helpless or something.”

  “We will compromise,” said Suleiman, implacable. “My bag only has my laptop in it. It’s light. You’re skinny. Yours weighs a ton. I’m bigger than you. Give it up.”

  “I’m not skinny!”

  “Okay,” said Suleiman. “Slim thick, give me the bag.”

  Sasha laughed and relinquished her heavy book bag with some relief.

  “Here then, wise guy,” she said, grabbing his much lighter book bag and slinging it over one shoulder. He took hers and hoisted it on one shoulder.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he said with a grin. “I am wise. I am also a man of peace as my name indicates, so I am always willing to find a reasonable solution to every problem.”

  “Oh wow,” said Sasha. She laughed. “Here comes the bus. Hope you can get your big head through the doors.” The bus pulled up, and the doors opened.

  Suleiman laughed. “Oh, it’s like that, huh? See if I carry your books for you again.”