Butterflies Don't Lie

by B. R. Myers

  The guilt was killing me, even the butterflies knew.

  Butterflies don’t lie.

  And in this case, they weren’t going to let me lie, either. Because even a goofy, lovesick mess-up like me knew Luke deserved better. I couldn’t do this to him. I had to tell him the truth. I was responsible for the restaurant getting a fine, and I had already let him take the blame for so many of my screw-ups this summer.

  I forced myself to look into his blue eyes—another ocean I was terrified of drowning in.

  Please, let him understand, I prayed.

  “It wasn’t about you,” I said, hating the sound of the words. “It was about someone else.”

  Luke tilted his head and gave me a crooked grin; slowly his eyebrows furrowed. The front door squeaked open. Blaine walked in with his parents—here, obviously, for the family brunch. He raised a hand to us and smiled. Luke followed my gaze. His expression caved.

  “Oh,” was all he said to me.

  One syllable was all it took to break my heart.

  TWENTY-FIVE

  Chloe and I cleared the first course as Julia refilled the wine glasses. Blaine and Luke were only drinking Coke. I watched as Blaine used a piece of baguette to sop up the dressing from his spinach salad.

  “Excuse me,” I said softly, staring at the tablecloth. I had to reach around Blaine’s shoulder to take his plate. I glanced at my old obsession; his shoulder didn’t seem so interesting today. The plate shook in my hand and I knocked over a salt shaker.

  He righted it, then threw some over his left shoulder. “Thanks, Kelsey,” he winked. “A little luck never hurt anyone.” I smiled and my upper lip stuck to my teeth.

  Luke was sitting opposite him. He hadn’t looked my way since we’d spoken in the hallway. I kept trying to get his attention, desperate to explain my side of the story. A little part of me hoped Luke still might like me, but the bigger part couldn’t stand the thought of him hating me. I could try and at least explain why I’d acted like such a moron.

  Meet me in the holding bar, my eyes kept trying to say.

  I certainly couldn’t lean over the back of his chair and whisper in his ear, “Okay, so I used to like your cousin, but now I’m totally into you. Forget the stuff I said about your dad in front of all of your friends at your party. I just really want to make out with you. Oh, and by the way, I’m responsible for the restaurant losing it’s license. So…we cool?”

  Yup. Epic. I’d sweep him right off his feet. Who was I kidding? I didn’t stand a chance. I was meant to only like guys who ignored me.

  At the beginning of the summer I would have been thrilled to have Blaine talk to me, but now all I could think about was Luke and how much he must loathe me.

  Thanks, irony. You rock.

  I snuck another glance, but it was impossible to catch Luke’s eye. In fact, he was busy answering questions from his soon-to-be stepmom. The future Mrs. Mulder wasn’t the blonde runway model I’d envisioned. She looked more like Ms. K. from the library—pretty, but in a plain, simple kind of way. She wore a modest sundress with a thick waistband. There was no huge diamond ring, either.

  Our trays stacked with greasy salad plates, Chloe and I rushed back to the kitchen. Twenty demitasse glasses were lined up for the sorbet. Julia breezed in with a pitcher of iced tea for Clyde and Loretta.

  “How’s Joe?” Chloe asked Julia. “I saw him the other day giving someone a ticket.”

  “Oh, yeah,” Julia grinned. “Who?”

  “My mom,” Chloe laughed. “She’s always badgering me about my driving, so it was nice to witness her being lectured for a change.”

  Julia placed paper doilies on the tiny plates waiting for the sorbet. “I hope he was nice, though. Sometimes cops can be dickheads.” She loaded up a tray with the sorbet, then used her butt to push open the swinging door.

  “Who’s Joe?” I asked Chloe.

  Chloe emptied a few more scoops into the tiny glasses. “He’s Julia’s boyfriend,” she said in an obvious tone. “You know, the hot guy with the motorcycle.”

  All the air left my lungs. When Julia saw me let in Blaine and his friends, she must have pointed them out to her boyfriend…an off-duty police officer.

  I looked around the kitchen. Clyde and Loretta were still doing their dance behind the counter—passing each other, reaching high for a hanging pot, then swinging low to open the oven.

  Did Julia tell anyone it was me who let Blaine in? Maybe she told her boyfriend and he’s still building a case against me.

  I shivered, picturing myself in juvenile hall. I’d be dead in the first week.

  Between Julia’s accusing stares and Luke doing his best to pretend I was invisible, I decided once and for all that Blaine wasn’t worth this much effort. I was going to quit this close-to-the-yacht-club job as soon as this brunch was over, spreadsheet be damned.

  I ignored the knot that started to grow in my stomach at the thought of never seeing Luke again. I had no choice. Leaving all of this mess was the best option, the safest option.

  Once the sorbet was cleared it was time for a parade of Clyde’s famous seafood specials. Personal-sized casserole dishes were filled with steaming lobster meat and grilled potatoes topped with a cream sauce. Chloe and I made half a dozen trips bringing out heaping platters: Scallops smothered in caramelized onions. Shrimp sprinkled with lemon and cilantro nestled among bowls of fettuccine. Oysters on the half shell lying in a bed of ice. There were more fish on that table than in the whole ocean.

  I had begun dispensing my tray of tiny dishes of melted butter when Mr. Mulder announced that Luke could take their boat out that afternoon. Luke looked surprised. His dad laughed and then motioned to Blaine. “Take some of your friends, too,” he encouraged.

  Blaine immediately pulled out his phone. He said to Luke, “Hey, man. Who do you want to invite? I’ll send out a text.”

  Luke only shrugged. “I can’t think of anyone.”

  I died a little inside.

  “No phones at the table,” Blaine’s mother insisted. Blaine conceded easily, but he caught Luke’s eye and gave him a wide grin.

  “Sorry,” I said to Mr. Mulder, my voice low. “I just need to…” I reached across him to place the tiny dish of melted butter on the table.

  “Hey, Kelsey,” Blaine said all of a sudden.

  I jumped and almost spilled the melted butter on Mr. Mulder’s sleeve. “Yes?” I asked, waiting for him to ask for another glass of water or more bread.

  “Why don’t you come with us?” he asked me. “You’ll know mostly everyone.”

  I was stunned. Blaine Mulder was asking me to go sailing. On the ocean. The huge, great, big, ginormous, bottomless ocean. He mistook my silence for reluctance.

  “Come on,” he urged. “This boat is gorgeous. And you’ll have time, we’re not leaving until after lunch. You’ll be finished work, right?”

  I felt a nudge in my ribs. “Of course she will,” Chloe confirmed.

  Still I gave no answer. Luke finally spoke up. “Kelsey’s not such a fan of the open ocean,” he said, twirling his glass of Coke. He met my gaze and I couldn’t breathe. “She doesn’t like to take chances. She likes the safe option.”

  His cutting tone made me bite back tears. Suddenly all the weird stuff at home and the stress from the last twenty-four hours piled up and threatened to spill out of my eyeballs.

  I still hadn’t answered Blaine. Luke gave him a curious look that bordered on exaggeration. “I can’t believe there are still people in this place who’ve never been on a sailboat before. Seems pointless to live by the ocean.”

  The reference about me was lost on most of the table. No one noticed my shaking hands hovering over the next dish of melted butter.

  Why was Luke being so mean? I thought he was being especially cruel for someone who regularly sees a shrink. What ever happen
ed to “no one is to blame”?

  Anger was slowly seeping through the heartache. I couldn’t believe he was mad at me for having a crush on his cousin. He had no idea how many things I’d done to screw up his summer. I began to channel the wisdom of May’s issue of Cosmo Chick.

  With a dish of melted butter as my witness, I made a vow. I’d done enough crying these last two weeks.

  From this day on, I am a fighter. No one messes with this busgirl.

  How-hole, indeed!

  I flared my nostrils at Luke, then gave Blaine a sweet smile. “Of course,” I agreed. “I love to sail. I appreciate the invitation.”

  “Good,” he smiled. Then he dropped his voice and draped an arm over the back of his chair, leaning toward me. “I kind of owe you. I’m sorry about—” he motioned to the French doors that lead to the bar.

  “No worries,” I quickly interrupted. Luke was listening too closely.

  I escaped to the kitchen and took turns with Chloe peeking through the glass panel. When the photographer took Mr. Mulder and his soon-to-be bride to stand by the windows for some rehearsal-brunch shots, Mr. Deveau shoved us out, our cue to start clearing the table.

  With all the emptied shells overflowing everyone’s plates, it looked like low tide after a storm. Some people had wandered onto the patio. Luke stayed in his place, leaning back in his chair. I stared at him, willing him to look at me. When he did, all the blood rushed down to my feet.

  Being a fighter takes practice, apparently.

  I started stacking plates like crazy. I loaded up my tray in record time. All I wanted was to escape those eyes. My peasant blouse was smeared with bits of fish and sauce. I hefted the tray up and rested it on my shoulder, creating a block against Luke’s stare.

  I kept my eye on the kitchen door. My long skirt snagged on the toe of my shoe. I flicked it free and quickened my pace. A flashbulb suddenly went off in my face, blinding me. My feet caught again, but this time I couldn’t get my foot free in time.

  In horrifying slow motion I saw the tray fly out of my hands, directly into the path of the photographer. Lobster bits and rivers of melted butter careened across the wooden floor. There was a crash, followed by complete silence.

  Loretta came flying out of the kitchen, perhaps expecting to see the front of a car embedded in the wall. She slipped on the mess and fell. Her foot was trapped against the wall at a nauseating angle.

  The silence was finally broken by Mr. Deveau braying like a mule. I slowly made it to my knees. Mr. Mulder’s face was as red as the lobster shell still spinning at his feet.

  TWENTY-SIX

  Chloe helped me clean up the mess. My plan to quit after this shift was probably moot now, considering I was going to be fired. Clyde finished the dessert while Mr. Deveau gave Loretta a ride to the clinic for an X-ray. Then I hung out in the pantry with Chloe, watching the clock and praying for the day to end.

  The kitchen door swung open. Julia passed by with an empty breadbasket in her hands. “When they’re finished with the cake,” she told Chloe, “we’ll take out the champagne for the toast.” Then she turned to me, holding the basket. “This should have been taken off the table long ago, Kelsey.” There was an edge to her voice.

  “Thanks,” Chloe said, taking it from her. She flounced back into the kitchen, completely oblivious to our conflict.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I replied deadpan, doing my best to attract zero attention. I wished I was invisible. Since my latest busgirl catastrophe I’d taken up a new philosophy:

  I am not a fighter, I am a zombie.

  Julia’s mouth was a tight line.

  A knot burned between my shoulder blades. I hated guilt. And considering I’d be fired at the end of this shift, I figured a little confession was in order to try and salvage the day.

  “I get it, Julia,” I said. “You hate my guts for letting Blaine sneak into the bar. But please understand that I had good reasons, and I had no idea the restaurant would lose its license.” I clasped my hands in front of my chest. “And please, please, please talk your boyfriend into not arresting me and sending me to jail.”

  The last bit I threw in spontaneously. I didn’t think I was in the position of asking Julia for a favour, but I guess having a shirt covered in fish guts made me…well, more gutsy.

  Julia took in my speech without even blinking. She wiped her hands on her apron, her expression almost bored. “Dude,” she finally said. “You knew it was wrong. You knew you could lose your job. Why the hell did you let those guys in?”

  I was put off a bit by her casual tone. I’d thought she was ready to report me. “They’re my friends,” I said.

  “All of them?”

  “Well, no. Just one.”

  “The hot one?” She motioned to the glass panel. “The same hot one who happens to be enjoying the chocolate ganache right now?”

  I dropped my head, ashamed, embarrassed, depressed, exhausted…take your pick.

  She let out a long sigh. “It was stupid.”

  I sniffed. “I know. And everyone will hate me because I closed down the Queen’s Galley.”

  Julia rolled her eyes. “It was stupid to do something for a guy when you knew it was wrong.” She stared at me. “That’s why I’m pissed at you. You’re a strong woman, act like it.”

  That was a surprise. No one had ever called me strong or a woman before, let alone both at the same time. Coming from Julia, the compliment was tenfold.

  I must have looked even more pathetic than usual. Her expression softened and she gave me a smile. Then she messed up my white cap. “Chill,” she said. “No one knows you let them in. I didn’t say anything to Joe, either. One of his friends was with us, and it was pretty obvious the baby-faced trio at the bar had snuck in.”

  My heart sped up. “So Mr. Mulder doesn’t know I let Blaine in?”

  She gave me a critical look. “Blaine,” she said, “is the only one who knows, plus me and you. And I won’t say anything.”

  I felt like I could breathe for the first time that day. “But what about the restaurant being closed?” I asked her.

  “We’ll be open, we just can’t sell alcohol.” She loaded up a tray with champagne glasses. I reached for it but she stopped me. “I’ll carry these,” she told me. “You seem a little shaky today.”

  “No kidding,” I said. “Um…Julia? Thanks. You know, for not telling and like, well everything, I guess.”

  “Wow,” she said. “That was poetic. You should write for Hallmark.”

  I smiled back at her and we left it at that.

  Since Luke wasn’t working, I volunteered to be the dishwasher. I had no idea a full tray of dishes was so frickin’ heavy. I remembered Luke’s ease with it and the ache started fresh and raw. No matter how many other things I tried to resolve, today kept coming back to me disappointing him.

  The industrial dishwasher got everything clean in under an hour. By the time I was done, Chloe was waiting for me. She ushered me into the bathroom and methodically started giving me a makeover for my sailing date.

  “Seriously?” I asked, dumbfounded. “Even after I made that whole mess?”

  Chloe zipped open her hot pink satchel and pulled out a makeup bag. “He’s waiting for you in the foyer,” she said.

  “Oh,” I said, surprised.

  Has Luke forgiven me? I wondered.

  The butterflies began to stir awake.

  Even if he isn’t interested in dating me, I’ll at least get a chance to try and explain my side of everything.

  I felt hopeful for the first time that day.

  Fighting a grin, I played the part of a fashion experiment as Chloe rummaged through her bag, mostly talking to herself about colour, and using terms like “sporty-natural.”

  I stood in front of her in my white tank top and jean cut-offs. “Here.” Chloe handed me a top. “It
should fit you.”

  It was a chunky-knit turquoise sweater. I slipped it over my head and waited for her critique.

  She puckered her face, then made a few adjustments. It was thick, but light enough that I felt like I was wearing silk. “Do you have a statement necklace?” she asked.

  I shook my head. All I had was my yellow bag, and it only held my stinky uniform, some sunscreen from our beach date, and a magazine.

  “There.” She twirled me around to have a look in the mirror. After a bit of lip gloss, some bronzer, and her designer sunglasses, I was ready to go. She also let me borrow her flip-flops, even though they were a size too big. “No one’s going to know,” she laughed. “They’re supposed to flop around. Besides, you can kick them off when you go on board.”

  My stomach did its own flip-flop.

  On board. A boat. In the ocean.

  I took a deep breath. Luke was worth it.

  I hesitated at the doorway, sneaking a peek. My hopes at patching things up immediately vanished. It was Blaine who was waiting for me, not Luke.

  Again. Irony, you suck.

  Chloe’s hand was on my back. “Go on,” she whispered, sensing my nerves.

  I closed my eyes, imagining the spreadsheet. Francine’s little columns and rows were comforting in a strange way. I was completely floundering today; maybe all I needed to get things working in my favour was some organizing. If anything, I was determined to check off at least one more box. I could finally tell Blaine how I felt, or rather how I used to feel. And then I could concentrate on Luke.

  His feelings couldn’t have changed that quickly, I thought. He must still like me in some way…

  I had to move forward: first confess to Blaine, then confess to Luke.

  Fantastic plan.

  Mr. Deveau’s shrill voice pierced the air. He was in the kitchen and heading our way. A new kind of panic began to set in. That was the kick in the drawers I needed. If Mr. Deveau was going to fire me, he could do it over the phone where there were fewer witnesses. I swallowed down my fears and stuck out my chest.