Julie's Butterfly

by Greta Milán

  “What’s this sinister, incurable disease he has?”

  Julie lowered the sweater slowly. “He’s a butterfly child.”

  Isabelle snorted. “What’s that supposed to mean? Has he got wings or what?”

  Julie sat down on the bed and explained the basics of the disease in as few words as possible. After listening carefully, Isabelle looked somber. “That sounds dreadful.”

  “It is,” confirmed Julie. “He’s covered in bandages, and each of his fingers is bandaged for his own protection. I hardly dared to shake his hand for fear of hurting him.”

  “More of a mummy than a man,” murmured Isabelle in a daze. “I don’t know whether I could cope with such a thing.”

  “You could if you had to,” countered Julie. “Felix is an incredibly cheerful man, open-minded and hungry for knowledge. To hear him laugh, you’d hardly believe that he’s in pain every waking moment of his life. He’s amazingly ambitious and tries to make the best of it all. When you see how he acts, it really makes you think. I don’t mean just how he deals with it, but how Elena copes.” She thought of her own butterfly, who was responsible for the fluttering in her belly. “It’s so hard to see someone suffering when you can’t do anything to ease their pain,” she said softly. It was the first time she had spoken her feelings out loud, though Isabelle could not possibly know the full implication of her words.

  “Now I understand why Elena sometimes has those moods,” said Isabelle soberly. “I can hardly bear to think about it.”

  An awkward silence reigned between them for a moment.

  Isabelle was the first to shake off her consternation. “I’ll never be able to hassle Elena again without a guilty conscience,” she said regretfully.

  “Because you’re not a coldhearted bitch.”

  “Well, a little, perhaps.” Isabelle’s expression brightened. “But I’m not going to feel sorry for her either.” She raised her glass. “So, to courage!”

  “To courage!” replied Julie, and she drank her glass dry in one go.

  Isabelle did the same, then leapt up from the bed. “Now let’s get back in the party mood, or else we may as well stay at home.”

  Julie nodded and rose to join her. Isabelle was right; after all, she was denying herself an evening with Bastian to meet up with her friends.

  “Something quite unbelievable happened to me this week,” said Isabelle as they headed into the bathroom.

  “What?” Julie asked as she began freshening up.

  “One of the guests at the opening was an art professor—Professor Sokolow. I spoke to him, but only briefly. He asked me to meet him at the university today, and at Elena’s insistence, I went.”

  “What did he want?”

  “He asked if I’d give a guest lecture about my work to his class.” She giggled and made a face.

  “That’s fantastic.”

  Isabelle stared at Julie in the mirror, aghast.

  “Are you serious? Me? A lecturer?”

  “Surely you haven’t declined the invitation?”

  “I asked for time to think about it,” she said. “It seemed rude to reject his offer out of hand.”

  “Why don’t you want to do it?”

  “I’m not like you. I hate everything to do with school. All that stuff never came easily to me. The very thought of giving an art lecture makes my hair stand on end.”

  “You don’t have to give a lecture on art. Just talk about your work. Who are you? What were you thinking and feeling when you produced your masterpieces? Things like that.”

  “Yes, fine. Baring my soul in front of a horde of overeager students barely two years younger than we are. Nothing could be easier.”

  Julie gave Isabelle an amused look. “You’re not scared, are you?”

  “So what if I am?”

  When she saw Isabelle’s wide eyes, Julie had to laugh. “No need to get all worked up. It’s a great opportunity. You should make the most of it.” Isabelle looked unconvinced, so Julie continued. “I’m sure the university won’t impose any restrictions on you. You could take them all outside and discuss the effects of color. Or drag them off to a studio and let them experiment for themselves. It could be great fun.”

  “OK, fine. I’ll do it.” She took a big gulp of champagne. “It’ll probably give me a heart attack, but if you think it’s a good idea, I’ll give it a go.”

  “There’s a good girl.”

  “I also brought you something back from the university,” Isabelle said as she finished off her makeup with a pink lipstick that contrasted brutally with her red hair. “Have a look in the bag. I left it in the bedroom.”

  Julie took a last glance at herself in the mirror. She had only applied a little makeup, emphasizing her dark-brown eyes with green eye shadow and a touch of mascara. Pleased with the results, she went in search of the bag. Hidden in the soft down of the feather boa, she found a stack of brochures.

  “What are these?” she asked Isabelle, who appeared in the doorway and watched her in eager anticipation.

  “What do they look like?”

  Julie leafed through them: Faculty of Natural Sciences, Faculty of Humanities, Faculty of Medicine.

  “It’s time you started to think about your future,” said Isabelle. “There’s a workshop next month on career choices, courses offered, and admission requirements. You should go.”

  Julie stared at the brochures. Isabelle crouched down in front of her and waited for her to look up. She grinned. “I deliberately didn’t pick up any law school or fine arts brochures. We already know those aren’t for you. But there are plenty of other options. You got great grades in high school. If you apply soon, you could do anything you wanted.”

  “Thanks” was all Julie could say, a little overwhelmed by all these possibilities.

  “My pleasure.” She gave Julie a kiss on the cheek before turning her attention to her dress.

  “I’ll take a look at them tomorrow,” promised Julie.

  They polished off the rest of the champagne and left the apartment in high spirits.

  Twenty minutes later, they walked into the party. Gabriel beamed when he saw them. He had transformed the whole floor of his building into a party zone. There were clusters of students everywhere, sitting in various rooms and pouring out of the kitchen.

  Julie handed Gabriel a gift bag of wine and chocolates before giving him a hug. “Happy birthday!”

  “Thank you, querida. I’m so glad you came.”

  “My turn,” chirped Isabelle, pushing Julie aside. “Best wishes, you sweet boy.” She planted a wet kiss on his cheek, leaving a lipstick mark.

  “Lovely to see you again, Bella,” said Gabriel.

  “Every woman has her own pet name,” sighed Isabelle. “You sure know how to please a girl.”

  They all laughed and followed Gabriel into the fray in search of their old friends. Pascal, a blond man with designer stubble and friendly blue eyes, pressed colorful cocktails into their hands.

  “What is it?” Julie asked over the thumping bass.

  “Tequila sunrise,” Pascal said and raised his glass to clink against hers. “Lovely to see you again.”

  Julie took a drink and frowned. “More tequila than sunrise.”

  Pascal laughed. “So how are you doing these days?”

  Julie chatted with him for a while, and other acquaintances came up and joined in their conversation. Gabriel and Isabelle disappeared at some point onto the balcony. The men joked exuberantly and flirted for all they were worth. Julie was amused, but kept her distance.

  When Isabelle reappeared, her eyes were sparkling with a telltale gleam.

  “If I may just take this young lady away for a moment,” she said, interrupting the men with a giggle, unfazed by their disappointed grumbling. “Don’t bother. This pretty face is already sp
oken for.”

  She dragged Julie past the kitchen, and they sank onto a sofa that had just been freed up.

  “My feet are killing me,” she groaned with a laugh, sucking on her straw before giving Julie a scornful look. “It seems a certain person’s inundated with admirers this evening.”

  “I just wanted to be sociable. You know I’m interested in someone else.”

  “I do know,” sighed Isabelle. She raised her eyebrows. “If I had a sexpot like that sitting at home, they wouldn’t interest me either.”

  Julie grinned.

  “Is his ass as hot naked as it is in jeans?”

  “It feels really good.”

  “I knew it,” she squealed in delight. “And I bet he’s got a nice six-pack to boot, am I right?” Isabelle nudged her and closed her eyes dreamily at the thought.

  She knew he was in good shape, but did he have a six-pack? Julie frowned in concentration. It was probably due to the alcohol—there was no other way Julie could explain how the words slipped past her lips. “I’ve got no idea,” she said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” asked Isabelle.

  “It means that I’ve got no idea what the man looks like naked,” repeated Julie.

  Isabelle froze. “You’re pulling my leg.” She studied Julie’s face for a sign that this was a bad joke but couldn’t find one. “How in the world have you managed that?”

  “We’ve only been together at night,” said Julie. She sucked on her straw; perhaps the cold drink would help her swallow the lump that had formed in her throat.

  “Don’t you have lights at your place?” snorted Isabelle. She eyed Julie like a protective tigress. “Tell him you’re not going to take any more of this nonsense. Right now.”

  “You don’t understand,” mumbled Julie.

  “Something’s not right here. I can feel it. No man would refuse to watch his partner in bed unless he’s got a screw loose.”

  Julie bit her lower lip.

  “My God,” exclaimed Isabelle. “The man’s using you. Maybe he’s imagining you’re someone else!”

  The thought made Julie feel a bit sick, though she knew it was nonsense. She might not be sure of his feelings, but she was thoroughly aware of the effect she had on him. She shook her head energetically.

  “You’re so wrapped up in this guy that you can’t see the forest for the trees.” Isabelle took a deep breath, then placed her free hand on Julie’s knee. “Julietta,” she said urgently, “that kind of behavior isn’t normal.”

  Julie rubbed her face in frustration.

  “He’s embarrassed,” she said finally. It had been right in front of her eyes all the time, but she had only just realized it.

  “Why in the world should that guy be embarrassed? It simply doesn’t make sense.”

  Julie looked up from her glass. She could see her hopeless expression reflected in Isabelle’s expanded pupils. “You remember what I told you about Felix’s disease?” she asked softly. “He’s not the only one who suffers from it.”

  Isabelle’s face turned ashen. “The gloves,” she murmured as it dawned on her.

  Julie nodded and turned back to her cocktail to wash down the shock of her own betrayal. She felt cruel for revealing Bastian’s secret. She hadn’t meant to. She trusted Isabelle to be fine around him, but her conscience still nagged at her.

  “I’ve tried to be patient and understanding,” said Julie. “But I’m simply not getting through to him. He just keeps pushing me away.”

  Isabelle snorted. “Patience was never one of your strengths. Perhaps you should try a different tactic.”

  “Any recommendations, Doctor Freud?”

  “Tell him.”

  “Tell him what?”

  “That you’re head over heels in love with him and he’s got to learn to trust you.”

  “Great idea,” Julie remarked, her voice laced with sarcasm.

  Isabelle studied her, then sighed. “I’m going to the bathroom.”

  Julie felt too drained to respond. In any case, she had already said too much. She let her head fall limply onto the back of the sofa and closed her eyes. Perhaps she should go home. Her good mood had evaporated, the room was beginning to spin, and she suddenly felt incredibly tired. She longed for Bastian. Although she knew it should be the other way around, his warmth was always a comfort to her. She could use that warmth and comfort right now.

  “Ah, there you are,” said a voice she recognized. She felt a dull thump as someone sat down in Isabelle’s place. She opened her eyes.

  “Hey, Pascal.”

  “I thought you were coming back to us.” His blue eyes looked at her with concern. “Everything OK?”

  “Yes. Absolutely fine.”

  Pascal laughed. “I had a girlfriend who used to say that. But I eventually learned that whenever she claimed things were absolutely fine, it meant nothing was.”

  His words provoked a crooked grin from Julie. “Ah, well, they soon will be.”

  Pascal laid an arm along the sofa back. “If you want to talk, I’m a good listener.”

  Julie couldn’t be sure if his offer was entirely selfless. “There’s someone else,” she said, hoping that would be enough to make his chances perfectly clear.

  “Understood.”

  Isabelle appeared and passed Julie a glass of water. Julie took it gratefully and gulped it down. Isabelle looked at her with concern. “I only want what’s best for you, you know.”

  “I know,” she replied with a smile.

  Isabelle gave Julie an encouraging nod, turned, and disappeared back into the crowd.

  Julie watched her go, then shrugged and looked at Pascal. “What happened with your girlfriend?”

  “Like I said, whenever I asked her if everything was all right, she nodded and said everything was absolutely fine,” he said. “Naive as I was, I believed her. But things weren’t fine. She thought she was doing me a favor by not saying anything—giving me my freedom. I thought she wasn’t interested in the slightest in what I did, so it was OK to carry on as I was.”

  “That’s what you believed?” Julie asked, amazed.

  “If someone never questions what you do, you start to assume it’s got to be right, don’t you?”

  “Just because she knew you’re someone who loves his freedom and she didn’t want to put pressure on you, it doesn’t necessarily mean she liked what you were doing,” she protested.

  “If she’d only told me she didn’t like the way I behaved, I might not have felt like it was all the same to her. At the end of the day, her tolerance got us nowhere. In fact, just the opposite,” said Pascal. “There’s a fine line between being considerate and losing sight of yourself.”

  Julie stared at him, thunderstruck. Was she perhaps taking Bastian’s feelings into account too much?

  “In any case, it didn’t work out. It’s too bad, but not the end of the world.” He regarded Julie inquisitively. “So what’s your problem?”

  “I never said I had one.”

  Pascal leaned toward her and tapped her on the nose. “But it’s plain for all to see.”

  Pascal suddenly disappeared from her field of vision. Julie blinked in surprise. It was a moment before she realized that someone had pulled her roughly up from the sofa.

  “Hey, calm down, man,” she heard Pascal shouting. “Julie, do you know this guy?”

  Julie looked up, her reaction slowed by her drink. “Bastian?” Her heart leapt at the sight of him.

  His eyes locked on Pascal. He radiated an arctic chill. His jaw worked dangerously, and his hands clenched into fists.

  “Julie?” Pascal asked with alarm, taking a step back.

  “Yes, I know him. It’s fine,” she said. She turned to Bastian. “What are you doing here?”

  “Isabelle called me,” he grow
led.

  Julie glanced around the room and realized that people had broken off their conversations to watch them. Isabelle was standing near Gabriel, waving cheerfully. Julie groaned angrily.

  “I think I’d better take you home,” said Bastian through gritted teeth, placing his hand on her back and pushing her toward the door. His touch was gentle enough despite the tense way he carried himself. A shudder ran through her body.

  Given his outraged expression, Julie thought it wise not to argue. Besides, she was exhausted. She gave Pascal an apologetic look and smiled sheepishly at her friends as they headed out the door.

  “How much have you had to drink?” Bastian asked as Julie tripped down the steps.

  “Oh, you know,” she giggled indignantly. The world around her grew fuzzy, and she stopped, swaying. She snuggled into his arms. “I so wanted to see you today,” she mumbled into his coat.

  She felt Bastian relax a little, although he still seemed enraged. “Come on, now. I’m taking you home.” He led her to his car, helped her into the passenger seat, and fastened her seat belt before getting in himself. He switched the radio on, and they heard the newscaster announce that it was a little after two in the morning.

  Julie watched him thoughtfully as he drove. He was looking straight-ahead, his gloved hands gripping the steering wheel tightly. Oh, yes, he was definitely still angry.

  “Did you get any sleep?” she asked in a small voice.

  “I was still up working.”

  “I didn’t know Isabelle had your number,” she remarked.

  “She doesn’t. She called me from your phone.”

  “The little rat,” murmured Julie with an affectionate smile. That was why she’d rushed off to the bathroom. “What did she say to you?”

  Bastian hesitated a moment. “That I ought to come and pick you up,” he replied curtly. If she knew Isabelle that would not be the half of it, but if he didn’t want to spit it out, so be it.

  She folded her arms defiantly and stared out the window. She hated it when he put up this icy facade, when it was impossible to get near him. She was so annoyed by his obstinacy that she got hiccups.

  He maintained a stubborn silence the rest of the way home, which was fortunately only a few minutes and thirty-seven hiccups—she counted them—away. Once he’d parked the car, he ran around to open the door for her. She climbed out without taking the helping hand he offered her and set her chin proudly. “I’m fine.”