Julie's Butterfly

by Greta Milán

  “What are you doing here?” asked Julie as Isabelle walked in and wrinkled her nose at her friend’s appearance. Isabelle’s hair, now a rich red, fell to her shoulders, beautifully matching her cheeks, which were flushed with the cold.

  “You didn’t think I’d ever leave you alone in such a state, did you?” she said as she swept past Julie into the living room with what looked like enough stuff for several days. Julie was moved, grateful, and unreasonably irritated.

  Two more letters and a package arrived from Bastian. Julie placed them unopened on the pile in her bedroom under Isabelle’s critical gaze.

  When Julie was studying, Isabelle crouched on the floor, working on a provocative collage for her upcoming art seminar at the university. Julie soon got used to the chaos Isabelle left in her wake. Who needed a clean floor when it could be decorated with scraps, glue, and paint?

  “Do you have any intention of ever reading those letters?” asked Isabelle casually from where she sat cross-legged, cutting out an image from a photo. It was the morning of New Year’s Eve.

  Julie looked down at her from her dining table-cum-desk, where she was brooding over an assignment on functional anatomy. “We’ve already discussed this,” she said irritably.

  “I thought you might have had a change of heart. Seeing as it’s the last day of the year and all?”

  “I haven’t changed my mind.”

  “Aren’t you the least bit curious?” her friend insisted sweetly. “Not even the tiniest bit?”

  “No,” Julie growled and stuck her nose back in her books as Isabelle’s quiet laughter rose from the floor.

  “You’re such a pathetic liar. You always were.”

  “And you’re not,” muttered Julie without looking up.

  Later that morning, another delivery of flowers arrived. Isabelle received it for her. Julie noticed that this time they were not long-stemmed roses, but a variety of cut flowers.

  “Beautiful,” remarked Isabelle as she gazed in delight at the arrangement.

  Julie deliberately refused to look at them.

  Around noon, Isabelle decided she needed some new inspiration and took Julie out to a small park, which, Julie had to admit, was an oasis of perfect calm. Isabelle had been dragging her out at least once a day in an effort to bring a bit of color to her cheeks. The snow-covered grass on both sides of the path was completely untouched. It was freezing cold, but the sky was cloudless. Although the midday sun gave little warmth, it bathed the landscape in radiant, sparkling light. It was exquisitely beautiful. Bastian would have loved it, thought Julie with a pang of bitterness.

  “I think I’ll give the New Year’s party at the gallery a miss,” said Isabelle, thinking out loud.

  “You can’t do that! You’ve been looking forward to it for weeks.” The gallery was going to exhibit some of Isabelle’s new work and had invited several prospective buyers, most of whom had accepted.

  “Oh, it’s only a party,” Isabelle replied with a shrug. She shuddered as they were hit by an icy gust of wind.

  Julie could see perfectly well how much she wanted to go. If nothing else, she had to attend for professional reasons. Besides, Isabelle was an innately social creature who thrived on all the noise and glitz—which had been sorely lacking over the past few days with Julie.

  Julie sighed. “Listen, I know you’re worried about me, and I’m truly grateful you’ve been there to get me through all the sentimental holiday crap, but I’m fine now. Honestly. You should go to the party.” She forced a smile. “I’ll just stay home, do some work, and have an early night.”

  “I’m not so sure about that.” Isabelle bit her full lips and regarded Julie skeptically.

  “I’m fine,” repeated Julie obstinately. “It’s fine. Really. It’s what I want.”

  “Why don’t you come with me?” Isabelle asked in a voice that didn’t hold out much hope.

  “What will I do there? You’ll be busy all evening keeping your fans under control and snapping up new investors. Thanks, but no. It’s not my scene.”

  “Just as I thought.” She sighed unhappily, forming a white cloud in front of her face. “OK, fine,” she conceded and dug her phone out of her purse. “I’ll just call Elena at home and tell her.”

  Julie concentrated on the road in front of her in an attempt to hide her agitation. She hadn’t spoken to Elena or Felix since she learned about the baby. She felt bad about it, as they had both become good friends, and that wasn’t the way to treat friends. But she hadn’t been able to bring herself to visit them. When it came right down to it, they were Bastian’s friends.

  Isabelle held her phone to her ear. “Hey, Felix, you have a good Christmas?” Julie winced as Isabelle laughed brightly. “Sudden change of plan. I’ve been lying low at Julie’s,” she explained. “Thanks to my excellent skills in the kitchen, she’s finally put on a bit of weight,” she announced proudly. Which was a barefaced lie; Isabelle’s cooking was appalling. She burst into shrill laughter. “No worries, she and the baby are doing fine.” Julie looked up in amazement. She must have realized they would know about the baby, but it struck her nevertheless. Julie felt increasingly tense as Isabelle’s cheerful expression turned more serious as she listened to Felix. “OK,” she said finally and abruptly stuck her phone under Julie’s nose. “Felix for you.”

  Julie blinked, then threw her friend a furious glance as she took the phone with a trembling hand.

  “Hello,” she croaked.

  “Hi, Bambi,” said Felix. “Don’t worry, I’m not going to have a go at you for not being in touch for months, despite the fact that I lead an incredibly lonely life and was delighted to find such a good friend in you,” he said in his usual direct manner. Julie’s chest tightened painfully.

  “Sorry. I didn’t want to upset the applecart.”

  “No worries. I understand. But you haven’t written me off as well, have you?”

  Julie winced again. “No, of course not.”

  Felix exhaled audibly. “Good. I’m delighted we’ve cleared that one up. Which brings me to my next request. Elena’s been at the gallery all morning preparing for this great New Year’s Eve party, and I’m bored to death here. What’s the chance of me seeing your face again before the year’s out?”

  “Today’s the last day of the year,” Julie said in a subdued voice.

  “So there’s still a slight but perfectly possible chance,” he insisted.

  Julie didn’t want to see Felix. Not because she didn’t like him or wasn’t missing him, but because she still couldn’t stand to be near anyone who was so closely linked to Bastian. Seeing Felix again would be too close for comfort, and she didn’t want to add fuel to the fire.

  “Come on over,” said Felix in an uncharacteristically soft voice. “It’s not a trick or anything. I’m alone, and I miss my friend—you.”

  Julie relented. “OK,” she heard herself saying, although part of her wanted to bang her head against the nearest tree.

  “Great. So I’ll see you later.”

  Felix hung up before Julie could change her mind. She handed Isabelle her phone with a dark look.

  “Elena’s been at the gallery all morning.”

  Isabelle was the picture of innocence. “It completely slipped my mind.”

  “Yeah, right,” muttered Julie. “You set that up.”

  “Think what you will. How could I have planned something like that? I’m just a scatterbrained artist.”

  The bright sparkle in her eyes betrayed the lie behind her words. She linked arms with Julie and set off in a new direction. Of course, they somehow happened to be only a stone’s throw from Felix’s apartment. No sooner had they gotten to the door than he flung it open, displaying no surprise at their speedy arrival. She refrained from admonishing them, however. She just wanted to get this over and done with as quickly as possible.r />
  The way Felix looked at her, his face radiant with pleasure, went some way toward making up for the ambush. She greeted him with a gentle kiss on his unhurt cheek before entering the apartment and looking around anxiously. Only a few months before, she felt so comfortable here, but she immediately suppressed all memories of her visits with Bastian in an effort to ease the agony that threatened her heart. She took a deep breath and stepped aside to allow Felix to limp past on his padded walker.

  “I’ll make tea,” called Isabelle, heading straight for the kitchen.

  Felix lowered himself slowly into his soft easy chair and awkwardly pushed the walker aside. His forehead had a new, scabbed wound; his ear was battered; and his hands were bandaged as usual. He wore a baggy sweater and loose-fitting black sweatpants. His relatively smooth movements indicated to Julie that he wasn’t in any great pain at the moment, but his blue eyes looked worried as he studied her closely.

  “You’re not looking well, Bambi,” he remarked once she was seated on the sofa across from him.

  “I’ve been better.” Julie smiled weakly, slipped off her shoes and tucked her feet beneath her.

  An uncomfortable silence fell between them.

  “And how are you?” she asked.

  “Better than you, I’d say.” He grinned cheekily. “I don’t have a bun in the oven.”

  Julie was tempted to throw a cushion at him but stopped herself in time. “You’re impossible,” she murmured with a smile.

  “When’s it due?” asked Felix. “My information to date is sadly lacking.”

  “June 8, plus or minus two weeks,” she replied, ignoring his attempt to sidetrack her. He clearly only knew what Bastian knew and that was . . . nothing.

  “Dr. Wangenroth’s book will be published in June,” he remarked. “I just read the announcement.”

  “Why are you telling me that?” asked Julie. She didn’t need to be reminded of how often she’d tried to persuade Bastian to have those damned photos taken. He had ultimately decided against it, another situation where Julie had failed to reach him.

  “I thought you’d be interested,” said Felix in surprise. “Because of the pictures.”

  Julie gave him a look of incomprehension.

  “It was really hard for him to have those photos taken. He ended up taking them himself in his own studio, but at least he did it.” He frowned at Julie’s obvious surprise. “Didn’t you know? It’s all there in his letters.”

  “She still hasn’t read a single one,” said Isabelle, appearing at the kitchen door with a teapot in one hand and three cups in the other.

  “You’re joking!” Felix looked at Julie, his face a mix of perplexity and amazement. “You haven’t read any of his letters?”

  “No.”

  “But why?”

  Julie looked away. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “Don’t look at me like that,” said Isabelle to Felix as she set the teapot on the table and began to pour. “I’ve done my very best, but I’ve been banging my head against a brick wall for weeks.”

  “Now listen to me, Julie,” said Felix as Isabelle sat down next to her. “I’m not going to justify the way he behaved. He acted like a complete idiot. But you’re both in a really lousy place right now, and he’s been through enough in his life.”

  “Has he?” replied Julie caustically. “He’s never told me the first thing about it.”

  “Then I’d suggest you start reading his letters.”

  “Is it all in there?” asked Isabelle.

  “I don’t know, but I know he’s written something down. I doubt he’s been sending Julie reams of blank pages.” He turned back to Julie. “At least give him a chance to explain himself.”

  “People can change,” agreed Isabelle. “Look at yourself. I hardly recognize you these days.”

  “I’ve been his friend for a long time,” said Felix. “But it took years for him to allow me to get as close as he was with you from the start. It wasn’t until he met you that he finally began to trust anyone. He loves you,” he said with utter conviction. “And if you let him, he’ll prove it to you. He’s changed.”

  Julie hooked her arm more tightly around her knee. “I don’t want to change him. I fell in love with the man he is,” she said. “But he’ll never see himself the way I do. He’ll never accept himself.”

  “How do you know that?” asked Isabelle. “Perhaps this whole thing has opened his eyes.”

  “Read his letters,” insisted Felix.

  Julie wanted so much to believe him, but what if he was wrong? She couldn’t bear another crushing disappointment. Her child came first now. She had to ensure at any cost that no harm came to the baby, and she could only do that by trying to accept things as they were.

  “She won’t,” said Isabelle with irritation.

  “And we can’t force her to.”

  “I could,” said Isabelle, turning to Felix as she brushed a strand of bright-red hair from her brow. “But what would that achieve? She simply wouldn’t listen. Recently, she’s gotten pretty good at blocking out anything that could trigger any real feelings. It’s going to be too late by the time she finally realizes the opportunities she’s missed because of her stubbornness.”

  “She is still here,” muttered Julie. “And she’s going to get up and leave right now if you don’t change the subject.”

  Felix and Isabelle exchanged a meaningful look, but let the matter drop. In an awkward search for a new topic of conversation, they worked their way from Felix’s report on his Christmas through the progress he’d made on his dissertation to the upcoming New Year’s party at the gallery. Julie was amazed that Felix intended to go. Normally, he stayed away from events like that.

  “I doubt I’ll be strutting my stuff on the dance floor, but I’ve got to get out of here,” he said. “Cabin fever.”

  “Won’t it be risky?” asked Julie.

  Isabelle grinned. “Don’t worry, I’ll look after him.”

  That assertion did little to allay Julie’s fears.

  “Elena’s got it all figured out. She’s made quite sure that I won’t be sitting in the line of fire. I’ll be driven to the gallery where I’ll be given a seat with plenty of room to maneuver and a year later—ha-ha—I’ll come home. No big deal.”

  Julie remained skeptical.

  “I’d ask you to accompany me, but I’ve already got a date,” announced Felix with a grin.

  “Really?” asked Isabelle. Her look of confusion earned her a pitiful look.

  “You’re breaking my heart,” he said drily.

  Isabelle wrinkled her nose. “Elena and I don’t count.”

  “You’re right. I only said it because it sounds better than ‘I don’t want to hurt my friend by taking the woman he loves to this party before his eyes.’ ”

  Once again rubbing salt in her wounds. Several times.

  Julie was about to ask Felix what exactly he was insinuating. She hadn’t considered until that moment that Bastian could also be there. She was filled with a familiar longing, but she buried the feeling swiftly.

  “She won’t come,” sighed Isabelle. “So it’s pointless to keep insisting.”

  Julie forced a smile. “I hope you both have great fun tonight.”

  Felix and Isabelle exchanged another look that Julie couldn’t quite interpret.

  She glanced at the pink watch with a cartoon pig that Isabelle had given her for Christmas. “We should be on our way so you two have plenty of time to get ready,” she said, rising to her feet. They wished each other a happy New Year, and Julie promised to visit Felix again soon.

  Going to see Felix had been painful, but bearable. She hoped it would get better with time, but she couldn’t be sure of it.

  Isabelle walked her home and gathered up her things, which were strewn around Julie
’s apartment. “Just say the word, and I’ll stay here.”

  Julie smiled gratefully as she helped Isabelle collect her belongings. At the door, she hugged Julie tight. Her guilt was almost palpable.

  “Maybe I should just stay,” she said.

  “I’m fine.”

  “You’re sure?”

  “I promise.”

  Isabelle took one last look into Julie’s eyes to convince herself that her friend was telling the truth, then heaved her gigantic lemon-yellow bag onto her shoulder. “I’ll stop by tomorrow afternoon, all right?”

  “OK. Enjoy yourself this evening.”

  Isabelle gave her a final squeeze. “Call anytime.”

  To stop herself from getting all sappy again, Julie said forcefully. “Just go, will you?”

  Isabelle grinned. “I’m on my way.” She turned and hurried down the stairs, waving.

  Julie wandered through her silent apartment and sat down on the sofa next to Spot. “So here we are, the three of us,” she murmured, gently stroking her bump.

  She leaned back, her mind reeling as she thought about all that had transpired in the past few hours. Her visit to Felix had not been without its consequences—she now knew more than was good for her.

  She stood up and went over to the dining table, determined to get some studying done. She listlessly opened her anatomy textbook and leafed through the relevant section.

  He’s feeling really lousy. Felix had said as much.

  She gathered her notes together, searched beneath a pile of papers for her pen, and started drumming her fingernails on the file.

  He’s been through enough in his life.

  She rubbed her face roughly. Then she bent over her textbook and stared at an illustration, totally incapable of taking in its significance.

  He loves you.

  “Damn it!” she cried and jumped up from the chair as if a fire had been lit beneath her. She stomped angrily through the apartment, the turmoil surging inside her. She stopped in front of the flowers and considered them. Only now did she realize how drastically different they were from previous bouquets he’d sent. Roses, freesias, gerberas, marguerites, sweet williams, and various grasses were bound loosely in a large bouquet—fresh, colorful, and delicate as a summer meadow.