Butterflies Don't Lie

by B. R. Myers

  “Coming about.” Stupid sailing terms. Why can’t they just say, “We’re turning now, everyone, watch yourselves.”

  I hopped out of the sail. I still had Chloe’s flip-flops on. They made me stumble forward.

  I grabbed the safety stay, but I was already moving too fast.

  I tumbled headfirst over the edge and hit the water.

  The last thing I remember seeing was Blaine’s shoulders. He was turned away, as always, with his back to me.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  Water was all around me, even above me. I was in the ocean.

  THE OCEAN.

  My head popped above the waves. The back of the sailboat was quickly getting smaller. I pictured it turning around, but it kept moving away. No one had seen me fall in.

  A wave crashed over my head. Chloe’s sweater sucked up the water, weighing me down. I sank again, trying to move my arms and legs, but it felt like I was moving in mud.

  I slipped lower and everything grew darker. Where was the surface? I expected my head to hit the rocks below any second. How deep had I gone? My fingers clawed at the water.

  The last few bubbles escaped my mouth.

  This didn’t feel like that time at the pool. Gone were the shouts of other kids and the white water blinding my vision.

  I was suspended in a dark infinity of space. No sound. No vision. No direction.

  And unlike the last time, I wasn’t swimming to get to the top. I was sinking.

  I knew I was going to die. The weirdest things started going through my mind. I imagined my parents and Chet weeping as they went though my room after the funeral. I pictured them finding Francine’s spreadsheet on my laptop. I was surprised to find I wasn’t upset about dying; I was mostly upset that I wouldn’t get the chance to tick off all the squares.

  Maybe Blaine would tell them at the funeral that I’d kissed him. I would want Francine to know that even at the bitter end, I was dedicated to Operation Tongue.

  I was weightless.

  How did I get here?

  I didn’t know what I was supposed to do. It was so quiet.

  A roar exploded beside me. Pain seared the top of my head. Suddenly, I was moving up.

  Air.

  Someone was yelling in my ear. I was coughing and spitting. I flailed again, punching everything around me.

  “Quit it!” The voice was right beside me. My orange cushion was thrust into my chest. “Hold this.” Strong hands roughly pulled my arms through the holes.

  Life really does turn on a dime, just like Julia said. I was supposed to be dead, slowly floating down to the bottom where the lobsters hide, but there I was, bobbing on the ocean, breathing oxygen, staring into Luke’s blue eyes.

  He shouted out orders to Blaine and the others on board, who looked totally helpless without him. While they manoeuvred the boat back to us, Luke treaded water and swam forward with one hand grasped onto my life jacket’s belt, tugging me back to the boat.

  Trust me. Nothing is more embarrassing than almost dying in front of the guy you are secretly in love with.

  Luke kept mumbling under his breath, frustrated with Blaine’s lack of finesse with the tiller. Several Stunders clambered to drop the sails. The jig was loose and fluttering wildly. Brooke managed to get the motor started. The boat turned around and headed back toward us.

  I watched the on-board antics with a sense of numb detachment. I felt like I was in a movie theatre, innocently watching from the safety of my seat, rather than the person who had caused all this calamity.

  Luke and I were two little soaked heads bobbing in the waves.

  I should be screaming right now. I’m in the water. I can’t see the bottom—and let’s not even think about the wildlife circling under my feet, ready to start nibbling…

  But the funny thing was, I didn’t feel scared. I could have waited in the water with Luke forever—if it were the Bahamas.

  “It’s cold,” I finally said, my lips quivering.

  “It’s the Atlantic Ocean,” he replied.

  “Thanks,” I said weakly.

  A waved crashed into his face. He spit out the water to the side. Even drenched and coughing up sea water, I still found him sexy.

  “For Christ’s sake, Kels,” he groaned. “You almost drowned.”

  I could read the tension in his features. He was either extremely scared or completely pissed with me—probably a little of both. I had no defence, so I stayed quiet while he treaded water for both of us.

  Brooke slowed down the motor and Blaine threw us a rope. Luke kept a hold of me while he grabbed the line with his other hand. We were quickly pulled to the boat. The small ladder on the stern had been extended to reach the water’s surface. Luke pushed me up first. My legs had zero muscle memory. I had to be pulled in by the others.

  When Luke and I were safely on board, one of the Stunders said, “Holy shit. I’ve never see anyone fall overboard before!”

  “Luke, you’re a hero.” Brooke gave him a hug, then squealed and stepped back quickly. “And you’re freezing,” she teased.

  Luke peeled off his shirt, and I had to look away from the tattoo. The song played in my memory. I blinked away the prickle of hot tears.

  “Dude,” Blaine said, handing him a dry T-shirt. “I had no idea what was going on. One second you’re at the wheel and the next you’re diving off the boat.”

  “I didn’t even see you fall in,” Brooke said to me.

  I shivered on the spot, a puddle of sea water growing at my feet. All heads turned to me, including Luke’s. “I owed Kelsey,” he said. “The first time we met I almost ran her over.” He grinned at me and I knew it was fake. “We’re even now, okay?”

  There was a smattering of laughter. A few Stunders began raising the sails again, anxious to continue their cruising. Luke gave a few orders, organizing everyone.

  Luke didn’t say anything else to me for the rest of the trip. Someone wrapped a blanket around me and Brooke even gave me a towel for my hair. I took inventory: Chloe’s flip-flops had gone overboard with me, plus her designer sunglasses.

  Oddly enough, my falling off the boat hadn’t dampened the party mood. When we docked, everyone made plans to continue the festivities at Brooke’s summer house. No one

  bothered to invite the pale, pruned-up corpse under the blanket in the corner.

  Blaine helped me off the boat. He laid his hand on my shoulder. “Are you sure you’re okay?” he asked. It was in his usual “I’m everybody’s best friend” voice.

  I guess his neurotransmitters didn’t fire either.

  I shrugged off the blanket and handed it back to him. “Yeah,” I lied. “My mom is picking me up.”

  He pointed to Chloe’s sweater, now stretched out of shape. “Next time just wear your bikini,” he joked.

  I pictured my paycheques going straight to Chloe for the rest of the summer. I didn’t even register that Blaine had kind of insinuated he might take me out sailing again—or that he was imagining me in a bikini.

  It was sunset and the wind had picked up. I was freezing and all I wanted was to get home and pull the covers over my head. I started up the wharf toward the yacht club.

  “Hey,” Blaine called out. “See you tomorrow.”

  Sweet bejesus! Was he actually asking me out? Like, right now?!

  “You’re working the wedding, right?” he clarified. “Make sure you save the biggest bacon-wrapped scallops for me!”

  “Sure. I’m all about the big scallops,” I wanted to tell him. “In fact, I could be getting real close with all the scallops right now if Luke hadn’t jumped in while you were gazing at the ocean, butthead.”

  But instead I gave him a fake smile.

  I was learning to master the fake smile.

  There’s nothing like walking barefoot though the back roads of your vil
lage with someone’s droopy designer sweater slapping against your knees. Whatever I’d messed up this summer, I would say this was proper punishment.

  My feet were numb, and I was so cold my goosebumps had goosebumps. At least my Kipling bag was dry. Halfway home I took out my magazine and started to read, just so people wouldn’t think I’d escaped from the insane asylum.

  Who the hell was that about? I read the other descriptions and was just as confused. I fit none of the answers. In fact, I didn’t seem to fit in anywhere. I took the magazine and flung it into the ditch.

  What’s the point of being in love if no one loves you back?

  It was dark now. I hugged my elbows, wishing my house would come into view. A stone dropped in my gut. What would Mom and Dad be arguing about tonight? Poor Chet, he was worried about his badge and I was literally falling for all the wrong guys. I suddenly felt so stupid for what I’d done. Did I care so little about myself that I had risked dying because I didn’t want to look stupid in a life jacket? How could anyone have explained that to Chet?

  Tears streaked down my face. Lights crested the hill behind me, casting my long shadow on the road. I moved to the side and kept my head down.

  A car slowed down and came up alongside me. Shiny red paint crept into my peripheral vision.

  “Hey, Kelsey. Need a drive?”

  “No thanks, Frank,” I said.

  He leaned out of the window. “Are you crying?” he asked.

  I stayed quiet and tried to hurry my steps, which was stupid since I couldn’t outwalk an SUV. The shiny red paint stayed right beside me.

  “Did you and your boyfriend have a fight?” Frank’s tone was laced with perverted enthusiasm. I shuddered at whatever images were swirling around in his head.

  “No,” I said. “And no, I don’t need a drive. I’m fine on my own.” I turned around, praying for another car to crest the hill. Frank seemed especially tenacious this evening.

  “Going all women’s lib are you?” he teased. “Maybe that’s the reason you and your boyfriend broke up. Don’t be stupid, beautiful.” He patted the door with his pudgy hand. “You better hop in, I’ll take good care of you.”

  “Come on, Kelsey,” he pleaded. “I don’t bite.” There was a deep chuckle then he added, “Unless you want—”

  “FUCK OFF!” I screamed.

  He stopped the car. I pointed my finger right at his face. “I don’t want a drive with you. I don’t want to do anything with you. So put that creep-mobile in drive and get the hell away from me before I start screaming. I swear to God, I will tell my parents and call the cops if you don’t leave right now.”

  Frank wiggled his shoulders back into the cab. “I’m only offering you a drive,” he said. “Fine, get kidnapped. See if I care.” He pulled away, hitting the gas hard. Bits of dust and tiny pebbles sprayed in my direction.

  I stood in place, trying to catch my breath. I’d never told an adult to fuck off before. (I don’t think I’d ever said it to anyone’s face before, actually.) I found it oddly gratifying. Maybe I needed to start making my own spreadsheets.

  I started waking again. A new-found sense of calm took over. The crickets serenaded me from the shadows alongside the road. I appreciated their soft and non-judgemental murmurs—it made nice background music. I planned on downloading some nature sounds from iTunes that night. My summer playlist could use some meditation pieces, I reasoned.

  A blinking light came through the darkness over the hill. I wondered if Frank had circled around. My insides steeled for another round. But as the single light approached I realized it wasn’t a car, but a bicycle.

  “Kels!” I heard a breathless voice call out.

  Luke biked toward me, the front light blinding me. I put up an arm to shield my eyes. I didn’t bother to wipe my face of my latest bout of tears. I’d had enough of being fake for one day. He pulled up beside me, then switched off the light. He’d changed into a hoodie.

  His face was blotchy. “Why did…you leave all…alone?” he asked between breaths.

  I stared at him, trying to figure out his angle. This guy was so confusing. What did he expect me to say? The weight of the day suddenly settled on my shoulders. If I wasn’t going to hide my tear-streaked face from Luke, I wasn’t going to lie to him either.

  “I thought that would be obvious, Luke,” I said. “Everyone else was invited to Brooke’s house.”

  He wasn’t sure how to respond to that one. I was pleased to have stumped him. “Why did you follow me?” I probed. Suddenly I didn’t feel so cold anymore.

  Luke had the strangest expression on his face. “I would think that would be obvious,” he said, adding with emphasis, “Kelsey.” He glanced down at my bare feet, then back into my eyes. He frowned. “It would have been useless to save you from drowning and then let you get hit by a car on your walk home.”

  “I thought we were even,” I said, reminding him of his declaration on the boat.

  He shrugged. “You seem to get into a lot of sticky situations. I should at least make sure you make it to your driveway. ”

  A warm rush spread over me, but I was in no mood for flirting—just ask the magazine I’d cast into the wilderness. I tucked a stringy bit of hair behind my ear and started making my way up the road again.

  Luke stepped off his bike and walked alongside me, keeping the bike between us like some kind of chaperone.

  He cleared his throat. “I guess swimming lessons don’t seem so useless now, huh?”

  His cavalier tone bristled my nerves, disturbing the serene attitude I had won by yelling at Frank. I was irritated and pushed to my limit. “Look,” I said, my voice echoing sharply against the lazy summer evening. “All I want is to go home, be ignored by my parents, have a nice, hot shower, then snuggle with Chetter-cheese in front of The Sound of Music. All I want is for everything about this horrible day to melt away.”

  I breathed heavily, too exhausted to cry anymore.

  Holy bacon turds, I was messed up.

  His expression was pained, but he didn’t look embarrassed or try to tell me to chill out. He simply kept walking beside me.

  When I calmed down, he finally told me his story.

  TWENTY-NINE

  “Four months ago,” Luke began, “I had this whole summer planned out. I’d be moving down here, working at the yacht club and partying with Blaine every weekend.” He paused and let out a sigh. “Or weeknight, if the opportunity presented itself.”

  He sniffed. “Then my dad comes home and announces to my mom that he’s moving out and wants a divorce. I spent the whole night listening to my mom scream questions. It turns out he’s in love with someone else, and not only does he want to marry her, but he’s going to be a new dad…all over again.”

  “Oh my God,” I whispered. It was so quiet the only sound was our footsteps and the clicking of the bike’s spokes. Even the crickets had stopped chirping to listen. “What did you do?” As if there were anything he could do.

  “I took off in the middle of their fight,” he said. “I got in my dad’s BMW and drove around. I had no idea what I was doing. Then I hit a long stretch of road with no one else around. I pressed the gas pedal to the floor, daring myself not to slow down.”

  My mouth fell open. “Were you trying to kill yourself?” I felt sick to my stomach,

  “No.” He shook his head slowly. “Well, I don’t know. I mean, I wasn’t really trying. I guess at that moment I didn’t care. I was mad enough to destroy something. All I was thinking about was hurting him the way he was hurting me and my mom.”

  We walked a little further in silence. He absentmindedly touched his side where the tattoo was. “I don’t remember the accident. I ended up going off the road and slamming into a power pole. I must have chickened out, though, near the very end.” His voice was sterile, unfeeling. “The police told my dad there were brake marks
fifty yards before the crash site. Any faster and the scar under my arm would have been stitched up by the coroner.”

  I hugged my waist, fighting the chill from his words. I had been so concerned about finding out all his secrets, and the shock of finally hearing the real story behind all the mystery made me ashamed. I’d never considered the reasons behind his circumstance would be so tragic and painful.

  He cleared his throat again. “When I came around, the fire department was trying to cut me out of the car. The radio channel was programmed for my dad’s music, and that song was playing.”

  “‘No one is to blame’?” I asked.

  “Yeah. It’s weird, though,” he told me. “I don’t think I turned the radio on.”

  I shivered, but he didn’t notice; he was staring straight ahead. “Does it still hurt?” I asked.

  “The scar or my dad?”

  “Both, I guess.”

  “Not always, but yeah, it still hurts. I had to see a shrink for a few months,” he said matter-of-factly. “Our family doctor suggested it. You know, suicide risk and all that. And when my dad bought the Queen’s Galley, he figured working there would be proper punishment and a way to keep an eye on me at the same time.”

  He let out a heavy sigh. “My job teaching at the yacht club went to Blaine. He was supposed to be on the maintenance crew, painting handrails and tendering boaters back and forth to shore. But after my screw-up he got promoted.”

  And there it was: No jail time. No prison sentence. No work order. Just a sad and angry kid with a dick for a dad.

  “That’s so unfair,” I said. “I’m sorry. You’d be a great sailing instructor.”

  “Don’t be,” he sniffed and tapped the handlebar of his bike. “You kind of saved me.”

  “What?” That was the last thing he should be saying to me.

  “Being a dishwasher while my cousin has a blast at the yacht club was not part of my summer plan. I didn’t know how I was going to survive. I considered running away or totally messing up on purpose to get fired, just to let him know he didn’t control the whole planet.”