Butterflies Don't Lie

by B. R. Myers

  He paused and looked up at the sky. “But I couldn’t make any more mistakes or my dad would send me to a treatment facility for ‘troubled teens.’” Luke made finger quotes in the air.

  “He told you that?”

  “Oh yeah,” he said. “As pissed as I was, I knew the Queen’s Galley was a much better prison than the hospital.”

  I didn’t know what to say. My mouth opened and closed a few times, like a mute marionette.

  A half grin curled up the corner of his mouth. “And then you came along,” he sighed.

  I smiled back cautiously. “Yes?”

  He chuckled. “At first I thought you were the icing on my dad’s imprisonment: a girl who couldn’t stand the sight of me. But then…” He wet his lips and shrugged. “Then you started screwing up all over the place. I couldn’t believe there was someone at the Queen’s Galley more of a train wreck than I was.”

  “Oh.” My face fell.

  He put a hand over his chest. “No, not like that,” he explained quickly. “I had no idea what you were going to get into next. I actually started looking forward to going to work.”

  “Because my disasters were so entertaining?” I asked tiredly. The truth sucked.

  “No.” It was a complete sentence. The word hung in the air between us. His tone became serious. “Every time I helped you it made me feel important, like I was a hero instead of a screw-up. I was someone worthy, someone to be proud of. Someone,” he paused and used my own words back at me, “someone who all the girls wanted to date and all the guys wanted to be best friends with.”

  My description of Blaine stung my ears. Had I been that blind? “You’re nothing like him,” I said.

  “No kidding.” He looked away.

  I bit my lip, wishing I had Mom’s panache with words. Her brain was a frickin’ thesaurus.

  What’s another word for hero?

  The crickets grew bored and started to sing again. Our footsteps scuffed along the road. “I mean, he never would have jumped in after me,” I finally said. “That was very brave.”

  When he turned to me, his face had paled. “Seeing you fall over was the most terrifying thing,” he said.

  “Even more terrifying than waking up in a car full of blood while firefighters cut you free?” I asked incredulously.

  He nodded, then started to pick at the tape on his handlebars.

  The weirdest image, of Luke biking back to that huge summer house, popped into my head. Would his dad and his fiancé be waiting up for him? Would they make sure there were leftovers to warm up or even a smoothie for him in the kitchen?

  “What about your mom?” I asked. He’d been silent about her so far. I couldn’t imagine either one of my parents giving the other complete control over me.

  His cheeks reddened, and for the first time he actually looked uncomfortable. “She’s on a month-long retreat thing for divorced women.”

  “I’m sorry,” I said. My summer suddenly seemed like a dream compared to his life.

  “Yeah, well, it gets worse,” he told me. “I’m best man at my dad’s wedding, so that means I have to give a speech tomorrow.”

  The cruelty knew no bounds. “This is like Dickens,” I told him. That got a smile out of him, and I felt like I’d done at least one good thing today.

  We stopped at the end of my driveway. I looked up at my house. Only the living room light was on. I noticed Mom’s car was gone as well. “This is me,” I told him.

  “I know,” he said.

  My heart skipped a few beats. The butterflies rejoiced that Luke somehow knew where I lived.

  We traded weak smiles. I held his stare and wished the moment could go on forever. How could I tell this guy how I felt when he was dealing with so much? The last thing he needed in his life right now was a screw-up like me.

  “What do you want more than anything in the world…right now?”

  I wanted Luke. And I wanted him to forget what an idiot I’d been on the boat trying to seduce him with the sunscreen, and especially my non-kiss with Blaine, which was only to make Luke jealous in the first place. And most of all I wanted Luke to want me.

  But the words would not come.

  I couldn’t tell him the truth. Considering all the stuff I’d done to get him in trouble over the past two weeks, the best thing for Luke was the opposite of what I wanted. I wanted him to keep being my hero. But he needed to be far away from me before I messed up his life even more.

  Instead of spilling my heart at the end of my driveway, I took the safe option.

  “Thanks,” I told him. “We’re even now.”

  THIRTY

  Mom looked up when I came in. She took in my appearance and I waited for the barrage of questions. Instead, she was the one who shocked me. “We have to talk,” she said.

  Her tone sent a chill down my spine. I glanced down the hallway. “Where are Dad and Chet?” I asked nervously.

  “I sent them out,” she answered.

  I was frozen to the spot. She patted the space beside her on the couch. Oh my God, it’s a sit-down talk. Suddenly everything made sense…horrible sense.

  I shook my head. “No,” I said defiantly. “No! You are not moving out and splitting up the family. I will not let you hurt Dad and Chet like that. Who is he?” I demanded, mentally flipping through the faces of men in our village. “Someone from the library?” I almost gagged. “The pharmacist? The guy who owns the deli store on the corner by the old highway? The one who always offers me free gum?”

  Mom scrunched up her face. She put up a hand, interrupting me. “What are you talking about?”

  “You’re never home anymore. Dad looks tired and sad. You only spend time in your office. You never ask how I’m doing…” My voice was rising so high that the neighbours probably thought I was a cat in heat. “I fell into the ocean today and almost drowned! Do you know why I almost drowned?” I didn’t wait for her to answer. “Because I can’t swim!”

  Mom blinked a few times. She stood and reached for me. “Kelsey, honey, calm down.” Her arms enveloped me. “I’m not having an affair.” She squeezed me tightly, then pulled back. “You’re freezing. Have a warm shower and I’ll tell you everything.”

  “No,” I sniffed. “Tell me now.”

  She read my face, then nodded and pulled me down onto the couch beside her. “I know I’ve been absent a lot lately, and I’m truly sorry for that, but I’ve had to work for both Dad and I this summer.”

  “Dad is tutoring at the library,” I said, not completely understanding.

  Mom let out a sigh and her shoulders crumbled. “He got laid off from the university.”

  “What?” I was not expecting that. “When?”

  “A few weeks ago,” she answered. “And because he won’t have a job in the fall, I have to work on my thesis and continue working full-time in September to support all of us.” She paused, allowing me time to digest what she was saying. “That’s why I’m trying to work as much as I can on my thesis this summer.”

  “But the late nights?” I asked her.

  “Sometimes it was research, and sometimes,” she tilted her head and focused on my shoulder, “well, sometimes I was checking up on you.”

  “Huh?” My tone dropped.

  She pressed her lips together like she was fighting to get the next sentence out. She was usually full steam ahead, a no-nonsense kind of gal. To see her struggle with words was freaky. I swore she was going cray cray. I could almost hear the spooky violins playing in the background.

  “I wanted to make sure you were safe,” she finally confessed.

  “Huh?”

  “I only followed you a few times,” she said quickly. My expression must have conveyed my growing horror. She gave me a defiant look. “I just wanted to make sure you got home all right,” she defended. “Occasionally, when I finis
hed researching at the library, I’d wait outside the Queen’s Galley until you’d finished your shift. Then I’d follow you home.”

  She sat straighter and looked down her nose at me. “One time I saw you talking with Frank Driscoll and I almost rammed the back of his truck.” She paused and gave me a stern look. “I don’t want you socializing with him. He’s older, and his character is too suspect in my opinion.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said, putting up my hands. I decided to keep my recent fight with Frank a secret, though. My head was hurting with all of Mom’s revelations. I wanted to know everything and not get sidetracked by talking about the village creep.

  “I also hired Luke to cut the grass,” she said, matter-of-factly. “I liked how you both worked at the same place, and it was clear the day I met him, after he found Chet, that he could be trusted.”

  “Huh?” I was becoming stupider by the second.

  “Actually, he came over the first time and more or less offered to help for the rest of the summer. You know how your dad’s herniated disc can pop out so unexpectedly.

  Plus, he’s really good with Chet.” She was using a voice that seemed to come straight from her days on the university debating team. Even though it never would have entered my mind that Mom had been checking up on me, when she explained it point blank, it made logical sense. To know she’d been spying instead of ignoring me was strangely comforting.

  “But that’s not important.” Mom waved her hand, erasing the subject of Luke off the board. “I wanted to tell you that even though things may seem bleak, your dad and I will always be there for you and Chet. And we will do everything to make sure there is enough money for you after graduation. We don’t even need that second car. Dad and Chet are actually at the dealership now, discussing pricing for the hatchback.”

  She put her hand over mine. “Dad wanted to tell you from the beginning, but I was adamant we keep it from you. We argued about it a few times. Now, of course, I see I should have listened to him. I wish I had told you earlier, but I didn’t want to spoil your summer.” She squeezed my hand and got a little misty-eyed.

  Mom doesn’t do misty-eyed. I felt like I was being fooled.

  Maybe I should start searching the basement for alien pods.

  “I don’t get it,” I said. “You’re always in your office or doing research. If you were so worried about me having a good summer, why didn’t you confide in me about Dad? I mean, things could have been so much better if I’d known what was going on. Do you have any idea how stressful it’s been around here for me?”

  Mom dropped her chin, looking guilty for the first time that night. “I know,” she said. “And your dad argued the same point, but I convinced him that we shouldn’t involve you in our financial worries. You already have a job, and you take care of Chet so much.”

  I stayed silent, trying to reorganize my brain. Mom took in a deep breath. “I appreciate that this is a lot to hear at once. There were times when I wanted to tell you everything, but you seemed to be having a good summer. You met a new friend at work and Luke says everyone enjoys your company at the Queen’s Galley. He says you make the shift so entertaining that the time flies.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “Entertaining for others, I guess,” I said.

  Mom’s voice sounded tired, but she made sure to look me right in the eyeballs. “This may be a poor excuse for not telling you about your dad’s job, but sometimes it’s hard to tell the truth to someone you love, especially if it’s something that will hurt them.”

  Yeah, been there, I thought.

  “What about having to take Chet to all his stuff?” I asked. “That always gets dumped on me.”

  Mom looked surprised. “He loves you the most, Kelsey. Dad and I have no choice but to let you be his first pick.”

  And just like that, life turned on a dime. How could I complain about being the most-loved person of the most loveable person in the world? Suddenly, being Chet’s chauffeur and personal cheering section was an honour, something my parents coveted.

  I’m not sure if it was relief that my mom wasn’t having an affair or the fact that she was acting like a mom again, but the floodgates opened, and I spilled out all my secrets.

  She listened without interrupting as I explained about the salt fiasco, getting Luke in trouble with the messy flower garden, the dog, and my big screw-up of letting Blaine and his friends into the bar. And then finally, my epic adventure from that day, starting with the spilled seafood on the floor and finishing with my sloppy spillage into the high seas.

  She was right, it’s hard to tell the person you love the truth sometimes, but I was learning that life only gets harder if you keep it a secret.

  She made me a cup of hot chocolate, then told me to have a shower and get some sleep. In the morning everything would seem better, she promised. Then she added, with a tone that left no room for doubt, “I’ll make sure of it.”

  After I showered I put on my warmest pyjamas, opened my laptop, and stared at Francine’s spreadsheet. Only two boxes were left: “Tell Blaine how you feel” and “Have a simply amazing, neurotransmitter-firing, stomach-full-of-butterflies kiss.”

  I thought back to my so-called sailing date. I couldn’t really check off either box. It was unsatisfying, just like Blaine’s kiss.

  THIRTY-ONE

  The next morning, Mom drove me down to the Queen’s Galley. She had washed and ironed my uniform. It lay neatly folded on my lap. I was pretty sure Mr. Deveau would be adamant that I stay far away from the guests, and the dishes, and also the food. I didn’t know what Mom thought she could do to save my job, but at that moment I had no other plan than to follow her. She had assured me that she would take care of everything.

  Vague much?

  We walked into the foyer. The large dining area to the left had been transformed into a wedding room. Rows of white chairs were getting trimmed with organza bows. Jesse’s mother’s wedding cake was on a pedestal in the corner.

  I suddenly felt guilty complaining about my two parents when she’d just lost her dad. I hoped her summer at camp was shaping up better than mine.

  Mom marched through and headed toward the kitchen. She had swapped her usual bun and frumpy denim walking shorts for a French braid and pencil skirt. She was on a mission.

  I trailed behind, wishing she had let me quit like I had wanted to this morning. My Kipling bag bounced off my hip, but I didn’t reach down for my gorilla. Clyde and Mr. Deveau looked up when we walked in.

  I nervously glanced around, but it was only the four of us here this morning.

  “Mr. Deveau?” My mother smiled and held out her hand. “I’m Kelsey’s mother, we spoke on the phone earlier.”

  Earlier?

  My armpits got sticky. I had no idea what was coming next.

  “As I told you during our conversation,” Mom began, “last night Kelsey confided to me what transpired the other evening when she let the underage boys into the bar. She will, of course, apologize in person to Mr. Mulder.”

  Mr. Deveau stiffened his shoulders and tilted up his nose. He wasn’t in a suit jacket today, but his white shirt was embroidered with mermaids. “I contacted Mr. Mulder following your call this morning. He has been informed, and he has left the decision up to me.” He paused and scanned me as if his eyes were lie detectors. “In this case, firing Kelsey is an appropriate course of action.”

  Even though I’d wanted to quit that morning—and I figured I’d be fired anyway—his words still cut through me. I winced.

  “Because the restaurant has lost its liquor license for a week?” Mom clarified.

  “Yes,” Mr. Deveau answered.

  “Because she let her friends into the bar area?” she continued.

  “Yes.” Mr. Deveau was sounding more European with every confident yes.

  Clyde stayed quiet, watching the conversation like
a tennis match. I’m not sure who he disliked most, me or Mr. Deveau.

  My mom continued. “Please explain to me why she was left alone in a restaurant, supposedly under your supervision, where anyone could have come to the door and assaulted her.”

  Mr. Deveau faltered this time.

  Mom’s best teacher voice was in full swing now. “Is it customary for a young girl to be in charge of deciding who gets access to the bar through the dining room?”

  “Well, of course not,” Mr. Deveau stammered.

  “Oh!” my mom said with exaggerated surprise. “So she did receive specific instructions about never opening the front door after the restaurant has closed?”

  Mr. Deveau fumbled. His fingers flitted over the embroidered mermaids. “It goes without saying, Mrs. Sinclair.”

  “Is it typical training protocol to have the underage staff also work as bouncers for the bar? I looked at Kelsey’s paycheque and her hourly rate does not indicate that she is responsible for any duties other than being a busgirl.” Mom paused and waited for Mr. Deveau to swallow whatever part of his stomach had risen into his throat.

  The corner of Clyde’s mouth slowly curled up. He reached for a cigarette from the breast pocket of his white smock.

  My mother was some kind of bizarre enigma. I was rapt, hanging on her every word.

  “What…” Mr. Deaveau began, then he cleared his throat. “What do you think would be proper action in this case, Mrs. Sinclair?”

  His question was sincere.

  Mom looked at me. My eyes widened. Holy sweet bejesus! I hadn’t had a chance to look at the script; I had no idea what to say.

  “Well, Kelsey,” Mom started. “Have you had enough of being a busgirl?”

  Talk about a loaded question. “Yes,” I answered truthfully. “But I want to keep working here.” This came as a surprise to me, but weirdly enough Mom didn’t look shocked.

  She nodded, then looked at Clyde. “I understand Loretta will be non-weight-bearing for a few weeks.” Clyde nodded. We both looked at my mother with amazement—how was she privy to a stranger’s medical condition?