Julie's Butterfly

by Greta Milán

  “Why are you waiting out here in the cold?” asked Julie with a smile. She came up close to kiss him. The easy way that she touched him still amazed him.

  He brushed a chaste kiss across her lips. “I didn’t want to interrupt.”

  “You wouldn’t have,” said Julie. She glanced around. “Didn’t you bring your car?”

  “I lent it to Elena,” he explained. “She needs it more than I do.”

  As they didn’t feel like eating out, Julie suggested they cook dinner at her place. So they headed to the nearest supermarket. Shopping with Julie felt shockingly intimate. There was something strangely routine about it, something only couples experienced.

  He watched Julie with growing interest. It appeared she was very discerning, making a big thing about her choice of fresh vegetables and even which ice cream to buy. While he pushed the cart, she kept pausing in front of the shelves to compare items. When she put something in the cart, she stroked his leg through his jeans or touched his back. As they went around, they talked about her day at the café, discussed the merits of organic produce, and deliberated over who would pay at checkout. Only when Bastian threatened to not eat a single bite of pasta did she finally give in and let him pay.

  “Did you see Isabelle at the gallery?” asked Julie on the way home.

  “No, why?”

  “I thought you had an appointment there this morning.”

  Her suspicious look warned him to be careful.

  “We postponed the appointment until this afternoon at the last minute,” he said. “So I could take Elena to the hospital afterward.”

  “Ah.”

  An uneasy feeling crept through him. He hadn’t lied. But the fact was that he could easily have postponed his work commitments and spent the morning with her—if he weren’t such a coward.

  “And how’s your friend?”

  “Much better, but he’s getting bored.”

  Julie nodded in understanding. “No wonder. Sitting around a hospital ward all day would bore me too. Can’t anyone visit him?”

  “I think one of his classmates stopped by to see him this morning. Felix studied IT, and now he’s working day and night on his dissertation,” he explained. “But since he can’t even work at the moment, he simply arranged a meeting by his bedside.”

  Bastian shook his head incredulously as he thought of Felix’s unstinting ambition.

  “Can that be done just like that?”

  “The university made special arrangements for him. He’s allowed to work mainly from home. I sometimes drive him in, or his supervisor comes to see him at home.”

  “That’s really generous.”

  “Felix is really likable. It’s difficult to refuse him anything,” Bastian said.

  They reached her door, and Julie fished her key out of her purse.

  “I’d like to meet him,” she said as she opened the door to her building.

  Bastian flinched. “Why?”

  “Because he’s your friend.” She threw a look over her shoulder and gave him a penetrating stare. “It’s no big deal if you don’t want me to,” she said, but he saw a hint of disappointment in her dark eyes.

  “I’ll ask him what time would be best,” replied Bastian.

  Julie nodded.

  Bastian was on edge as he followed her upstairs. He wasn’t sure why the thought of their meeting filled him with such fear. It should have been simple enough to introduce them to each other. But it wasn’t.

  Not for him.

  Felix was one world. Julie was another.

  If he lowered the barriers between them, there would be no going back. He wasn’t sure he liked the notion. For now, he would try to gain a little time.

  “Could you take the bags straight to the kitchen?” Julie called over her shoulder as she removed her cardigan.

  “Do you want to start cooking now?”

  “Of course. Otherwise I’ll starve.”

  After setting out the ingredients, she washed her hands, dug out a pot, and filled it with water for the pasta.

  Bastian stood uncertainly by the sideboard. Julie sighed and came up to him. She laid her hands on his hips and looked up at him.

  “Didn’t we have an agreement?” she said.

  Bastian knew what she was referring to. A hint of apprehension crossed his face before he removed his gloves and put them down.

  She pressed an innocent kiss on his lips before returning to her cooking.

  “Now come here. This is fun.”

  “You’ve a strange idea of fun,” he remarked drily.

  “Eating means enjoying, and everything connected with enjoyment is fun,” said Julie.

  Bastian found that Julie was right—even if not in the way she’d intended. While he discreetly dropped bits of diced bacon to a delighted Spot, Julie was working wonders at the stove. It was a real pleasure to watch her.

  They ate at the dining table, and since Julie had cooked a feast fit for five, the only thing they could bring themselves to do next was recline on the sofa. They watched a movie together, though he later had no recollection what it was about, because he was far too preoccupied tracing her hair, the contours of her neck, and her lips with his sensitive hands.

  Snuggled up beside him, Julie seemed to enjoy his every touch, so it was no wonder that the atmosphere between them had changed before the movie came to an end. Just as before, she reacted like a teenager tuned in to her hormones for the first time. Unable to hold out any longer, he pulled her up and took her impatiently into the bedroom, into the safety of darkness. To keep the light from the living room from penetrating, he closed the door with a backward kick that cost him dearly. He winced at the pain.

  Julie gasped and pulled away from him. “Have you hurt yourself?”

  “It’s fine,” he murmured.

  “Let’s turn the light on and make sure.” She took a step back, but he quickly wrapped his arms firmly around her dainty body.

  “No light,” he said and lowered his mouth insistently to the hollow of her throat, causing what appeared to be a shiver of pleasure to run through her. Feeling her goose bumps, he smiled.

  “But I want to see you.”

  His kisses moved from her neck to her shoulder as his hands worked their way beneath her thin T-shirt. He thought feverishly about how to counter her wish. He inhaled slowly to loosen the tension in his chest, then laid his forehead on hers.

  “Don’t,” he asked her softly.

  In the darkness, he only barely perceived her small nod. Her agreement sent a huge wave of relief through him. He drew her T-shirt over her head, then laid his lips on hers. He made every effort to show his gratitude, but he knew it was not enough.

  Later that night, as they lay together in the stillness, her hand felt its way across his chest, and her gentle fingertips slowly explored his body. He remained motionless beneath their curious touch for as long as he could. When it became too much for him, he took her hand, kissed it, and laid it on his chest where it rested beneath his. He was thankful that she appeared to understand his unspoken request without his having to explain himself. He played absently with a lock of her hair.

  In that moment he was happy.

  Really and truly happy.

  Lying there, feeling peaceful, he understood what it was like for baby birds who are pushed off a precipice to make them learn to fly. But what happened when the ground was not far enough away? He shuddered as he recalled the previous morning.

  After their night together, overcome by weariness, he had only intended to close his eyes briefly, but had instead fallen into a deep sleep. He awoke in darkness. Seeing Julie beside him filled him with a blissful sensation just like the day before—except that this time, he was stark-naked as he lay next to her. The extent of his horror almost overwhelmed him as he realized his mistake. A panic att
ack the likes of which he had never known before surged through him. His pulse roared in his ears, and for a split second, he worried that his pounding heart was about to burst out of his chest. Despite the goose bumps that covered his whole body, he broke out in a sweat at the thought that Julie might open her eyes at any moment and see him and all his imperfections. He freed himself as quickly as he could from her tender embrace and fled to the bathroom to calm himself down. Thankfully, Julie was so deeply asleep that she witnessed neither his body nor his panic.

  But what if she had seen him?

  Baring his hands was one thing, but his whole body something else entirely. Would she accept him as he was, or would she be unable to bear looking at him naked? What if she recoiled from him in revulsion or even regretted having gotten involved with him?

  Dear God, he didn’t want to think about it. It would destroy everything they had, which was more than he’d ever dared to hope for. He was determined to not lose her again.

  Her regular breathing told him she was still asleep. He lay beside her for a little longer and watched her sleeping, unable to bring himself to break the spell.

  When she turned over, he withdrew carefully and gathered his things together in the darkness. He dressed quietly, then sank down onto the edge of the bed and started stroking her cheek to wake her. She sighed lazily. He leaned forward and kissed her gently in the sensitive spot behind her ear.

  “What’s up?” she murmured, bleary with sleep.

  “I’ve got to go,” he whispered, breathing in the scent of her hair.

  She was instantly wide-awake. “Has something happened?” she asked in alarm.

  “Everything’s fine,” he replied in a low voice. “Go back to sleep, my treasure.” As he drew back, she didn’t try to stop him. He felt her eyes on him even in the pitch-dark. Ignoring the icy sensation inside him, he stood. “I’ll call you tomorrow.”

  When she didn’t say anything, he stopped uncertainly by the bedroom door.

  “Can I call you tomorrow?” he asked hesitantly.

  Her yes was little more than a whisper.

  Although they couldn’t see each other, he nodded, then squared his shoulders and turned away. When the glaring light from the hall poured in through the open bedroom door, he dared not turn around—he didn’t want to see her disappointment, though he could well understand it.

  He hurried into the living room to look for his gloves. He switched the TV off, together with all the lights, and left, closing the front door behind him.

  It was almost two o’clock in the morning, and no buses were running at that hour. At first, he walked slowly, but as the pain in his chest grew, he quickened his pace. He eventually fell into a jog, gritting his teeth as the familiar ache in his feet announced new wounds.

  He’d done the right thing by leaving. There was a chance they would have a little more time together. He enjoyed Julie’s presence far too much to gamble with her feelings, even if that meant her reaction would affect him all the more when it came. Until that one time many years ago, he had always been able to accept the way women looked at him when he was careless with his concealment.

  Some had gasped in shock at his appearance; others had stared at him as though turned to stone or given him the kind of sympathetic gaze they would reserve for an abused kitten. Though his skin had been completely unblemished at birth, hardly a square inch of his body remained unmarked. As merciless as the scars that had eaten into his skin was the way people reacted if they got too close—with the exception of Felix, Elena, and the specialists who were reasonably familiar with his condition.

  A flood of memories hit him before he could stop them: the malicious laughter of the boys, the nasty whispering of the girls.

  “What are you, a zombie?”

  “Have you got leprosy or what?”

  “Never seen anything so creepy.”

  “Stay away from him. It’s contagious.”

  “Don’t they have makeup for it?”

  The chorus of voices grew ever louder.

  Bastian ran as if in danger, ignoring the painful protests of his body.

  By the time he reached his apartment, soaked in sweat and completely out of breath, his whole body was trembling from exhaustion. He tore off his clothes and took a shower. The hot water warmed him but could do nothing to melt the block of ice lodged in his belly.

  He had changed schools three times as a child. His father had moved to new towns twice for his sake. Bastian had made every effort to find friends who understood his situation, but things had always turned out the same in the end. It had only improved after he decided never to trust anyone again. He bought some black leather gloves and left his old life behind once more. Including his father.

  By the time he was eighteen, he was living in his own apartment, had his high school diploma, and was earning a living taking photographs that he sold through international image databases. He attended the region’s biggest university, which gave him a certain amount of anonymity, and earned his economics degree a few years later. That knowledge enabled him to make a living as a full-time freelance photographer. He was his own boss. He set his own terms—in both professional and private circles.

  Having gained total control over his life, his fears dissipated, and at last, he felt content. And it had all gone beautifully until he met Julie. The first time they met, he’d felt a touch of resistance stir inside him. Hope had pushed its way to the surface, and with it the old panic.

  Bastian got out of the shower and began pulling the softened bandages off his body one by one—the gauze bandage on his left forearm, the one on his right elbow, the ones on his shin and kneecap, several others on his feet, and finally the one on his thumb.

  He sullenly examined the injury to his calf from when he kicked Julie’s bedroom door—a three-inch graze that had opened up again in the shower and that now glistened with blood. Bastian hoped that he had not stained Julie’s sheets.

  He wiped the condensation from the mirror and turned to inspect his back. In her passionate abandon, Julie had run her fingernails too forcefully down his back, loosening a layer of skin. Three welts now ran across his shoulder blade. She’d go crazy if she knew what she’d done. For that reason alone, it was good that he’d left—he didn’t want her to feel guilty.

  As always, he wasted no time on his reflection, looking only as long as it took to treat the wounds on his back. He then turned his attention to the others.

  When he had finished, he padded, exhausted, to his bedroom, slipped into his boxers, and crept into bed. He had never felt so lost.

  CHAPTER 18

  Julie was not in great spirits. She had not slept a wink since Bastian left. But what did she expect? That mere physical satisfaction would make up for all her emotional needs? If only it were so easy.

  It may not have been wise to call her mother in such a mood, but she had promised Jo and wanted to get it over with, if for nothing else, for her own peace of mind. She dialed the number morosely and breathed a sigh of relief when the answer machine came on—luck was on her side. She left her mother a message that she had complied with her request and found an escort for the party. She didn’t care what her mother would make of it.

  She then cleaned her apartment, tended to Spot, and took a shower before heading to work. The dull, rainy day perfectly fit her mood. There was little to do at the café. John was perceptive enough not to ask what was troubling her and instead regaled her with stories about his daughter. At midday, their boss called and said he was in bed with the flu. As Julie had no plans that day and could use the additional tips, she offered to take his shift, which meant staying on at the café until midnight.

  Bastian didn’t get in touch.

  She had no idea what to make of his sudden disappearance in the middle of the night. He had either lied when he assured her everything was fine and there really was s
omething wrong, or he had told the truth and simply did not want to spend the night after he’d slept with her. She didn’t like either option.

  Her phone finally rang in the early afternoon as she was taking a young couple’s order. Hoping it was Bastian, she quickly excused herself and grabbed her cell phone, which she had left on the bar just in case. Her mother. Julie frowned, put her phone back down, and went to finish taking the couple’s order.

  In the voice mail her mother left, she set forth an animated barrage of complaints about her daughter’s fickleness. Although she didn’t say so explicitly, it was clear that her mother was not at all pleased that Julie had found another date for the party. Julie was glad she hadn’t picked up.

  As the day went by, Julie felt increasingly unsettled. This waiting was getting on her nerves. She really wanted to hear Bastian’s voice, but she was not going to be the one to call.

  Perhaps she had made it too easy for him. After allowing him into her bed for three nights running, it was hardly surprising that he believed he could treat her like that. But he was wrong there; his behavior hurt her. She had to find a way to make that clear to him, even if it meant sacrificing another night together.

  By evening, her mood had reached a low ebb, and she had to occupy herself polishing glasses behind the bar, leaving John to handle the customers. The bell over the door rang to announce someone’s arrival. Julie looked up and started involuntarily.

  Bastian was striding toward her. Her heart fluttered with excitement. She stopped what she was doing and regarded him uncertainly. Beneath his black raincoat he was wearing a dark, close-fitting turtleneck that emphasized the lines of his strong torso. His hands were sheathed in the usual black leather gloves. Wet with the rain, his hair fell in unruly locks around his ears. He was incredibly attractive as he moved between the tables. Julie was not the only one who noticed; out of the corner of her eye, she saw two young women turn toward him and start whispering to each other. Bastian himself appeared to be either completely unaware of his effect on women or to be ignoring their attention deliberately. He had assumed his usual unapproachable demeanor, but his expression softened as he reached the counter.