Butterfly

by V. C. Andrews

  "I don't want to hear his name anymore this week. I don't want anything to distract us from our objective, Sanford. Forget about him."

  "But your parents. ." he began.

  "They'll get over it," she said, and turned to me to talk about the things we should sharpen in my presentation.

  Finally, the day arrived. I had trouble sleeping the night before, slipping in and out of nightmares. In most I either fell or got so dizzy in my pirouette, I looked clumsy. I saw heads shaking and Celine shrinking in her wheelchair.

  The moment I moved my legs to get out of bed that morning, I felt the pain in my stomach. It was as if there was a fist closing inside me and then my lower back ached so hard and deeply, it brought tears to my eyes. I crunched up and took deep breaths. The warm trickle on the inside of my thigh sent chills of terror shooting down to my feet and bouncing back up through my body to curl in my head and make my brain scream. Gingerly, inches at a time, I reached down, and when I saw the blood on my fingertips, I cried.

  "No, not now, not today," I pleaded with my insistent body.

  I swung my legs around, but when I put my weight on them, they crumbled and I found myself on all fours, the pain growing worse, nearly taking my breath away. I went on my side and lay there in a fetal position, trying to catch my breath. That was when my door burst open and Celine wheeled herself in, her face full of excitement as she cried, "Wake up, wake up. Today is our day. Wake . .

  She froze, her hands glued to the top of her wheels as she stared down at me.

  "What are you doing, Janet?"

  "It's . . . my period, Mother," I said. "I woke up and I was bleeding. I have such cramps and my back aches. I have a terrible headache, too. Every time I lift my head a little, it feels like steel marbles are rolling around inside me."

  "Why didn't you put on the protection I bought you?" she demanded. "You should always be anticipating this. I told you," she insisted when I shook my head.

  No, you never told me to do that before I went to sleep every night."

  "This is ridiculous. Get up on your feet. Clean yourself and get dressed. I'll have Mildred change the sheets on your bed. Get up!" she screamed.

  I heard Sanford pounding his feet on the steps as he charged up our stairway.

  "What is it, Celine? Why are you shouting? What's wrong?" he cried and came through the doorway, stopping just behind her. "Janet!"

  "It's nothing She's only gotten her period."

  "It hurts so much," I wailed.

  "Don't be ridiculous," Celine insisted.

  "If she says it hurts, Celine . ." Sanford began. "Of course it hurts, Sanford. It's never pleasant, but she's just being melodramatic."

  "I don't know. I've heard of young girls practically being incapacitated. My sister had to be brought home from school. I remember--"

  "Your sister is an idiot," Celine said and wheeled herself closer to me. "Get up this minute," she ordered.

  I struggled into a sitting position and then, using the bed, started to rise. Sanford rushed to my side and helped me stand.

  "You're going to ruin the rug. Get into the bathroom. Don't you have any pride?" Celine screamed.

  "Stop yelling at her," Sanford urged. He helped me into the bathroom and then stepped out while I cleaned myself and found the sanitary napkins. I had to sit on the closed toilet seat to catch my breath. The pain didn't lessen.

  "What are you doing in there?" Celine called. She came to the bathroom door.

  I reached for the sink and pulled myself up. Every step brought more pain. I opened the door and looked out at her.

  "It hurts so much," I complained.

  "It will go away. Get dressed. We're leaving in an hour," she said and spun around.

  I started out of the bathroom. The cramps kept me clutching my stomach and leaning over. I tried to move around the room, get my dress from the closet, put on my shoes, but the pain just got worse. The only position that brought any relief was lying on my side and pulling my legs up.

  How would I ever dance today? I wondered. How could I perform those leaps and turns? Just the thought of going on pointe brought more pain to my back and stomach. My head was pounding.

  "What are you doing?" I heard Celine cry. She was in my doorway. "Why aren't you dressed?"

  I didn't reply. I clutched my stomach and took deep breaths.

  "Janet!"

  "What's happening now?" Sanford asked.

  "She's not getting dressed. Look at her," Celine demanded.

  "Janet," Sanford said. "Are you all right?"

  "No," I groaned. "Every time I try to stand, it hurts."

  "She can't possibly go today, Celine. You'll have to postpone it," he told her.

  "Are you mad? You can't postpone this. There are so many girls trying out. They'll choose their quota before she has a chance to compete. We've got to go," Celine insisted.

  "But she can't even stand," he protested.

  "Of course she can. Stand up," Celine ordered. She wheeled toward the bed. Sanford held out his hands to stop her.

  "Celine, please?'

  "Stand up, stand up, you ungrateful urchin. Stand up!" she screamed at the top of her lungs.

  I had to try again. I rose and put my feet down. Sanford stood and watched as I made the effort. As my body straightened, the pain in my stomach shot up into my chest. I cried, folded, and fell back to the bed. "Stand up!" Celine shouted.

  Sanford forcefully turned her around in the chair.

  "Stop this. She has to go. Stop it, Sanford. Stop it," she cried. He continued to wheel her forcefully out of my room.

  "She probably needs some kind of medication. I'll have to take her to the doctor," he said.

  "That's ridiculous. You fool. She won't get into the school. Janet!" she cried, her voice echoing in the hallway.

  My body tightened. I was so frightened. I squeezed my eyes shut to clamp out the world around me. There was a buzzing in my ear and then a darkness, a comfortable, easeful darkness in which I no longer felt the pain and the agony.

  I felt like I was floating. My arms had turned into paper-thin wings. I was drifting through the darkness toward a pinhole of light and it felt so wonderful, so easy. I glided and turned, dove and rose, fluttering.

  Then I passed what looked like a wall of mirrors on both sides, drifting, gently raising and lowering my paper-thin wings. I looked at myself as I continued toward the light.

  And amazingly, I was a butterfly.

  Twelve

  What's wrong with her?" I heard a voice say. It sounded far away, like a voice at the end of a tunnel, so it was hard to recognize it.

  "All of her vital signs are good. This is some sort of anxiety attack, Sanford?'

  "That's ridiculous," another voice snapped. The darkness began to diminish a bit. "She has nothing to make her anxious. She has more than most girls her age have."

  "You don't know as much about her past as you think you do, Celine, There are many things working in the subconscious mind. And then this might all be due to the psychological trauma of having her first period," he added.

  "Did you ever hear anything so ridiculous as that? Please, Doctor," Celine insisted. "Give her something "

  "There's nothing to give her but a little time and then a lot of tender loving care, Celine?'

  "What do you think she's been getting?"

  "Celine." Sanford's strong voice broke through the darkness.

  "Well, he talks like we've been torturing the child," she said.

  The darkness dwindled some more and the light began to grow stronger, wider. My eyelids fluttered. "She's waking up."

  I opened my eyes and looked into Dr. Franklin's face.

  "Hello there," he said, smiling "How are you doing?"

  I was so confused. I closed my eyes and tried to think and then I opened them and looked around. I was still in my room. Celine was at the foot of my bed and Sanford was standing beside her with his hand on the back of her chair.

  "Can you
sit up?" the doctor asked.

  I nodded and started to do so. I was a little dizzy, but that passed quickly and I was up. There was a dull ache in my back and my stomach felt woozy. I gazed at the clock and saw that it was midafternoon.

  "There. She'll be fine," the doctor said. "Just a day's rest now. The worst is over," he added.

  "Is it?" Celine asked dryly. She was shaking her head and glaring at me.

  The doctor closed his bag and left the room with Sanford. Celine wheeled herself closer.

  "I don't know what happened to me, Mother," I said. "I'll get dressed."

  "Dressed?" She laughed a thin, bone-chilling laugh. "For what? It's over. Your chance to get into the school is over. We missed the audition."

  "Can't we reschedule it?" I asked. My throat was so dry, it hurt to speak.

  "No. There's no point in it," she said, her eyes small. "They went through dozens of girls and filled their openings by now."

  "I'm sorry," I said.

  "Me too. All this work, the hours and hours of lessons, the best shoes . ." She shook her head, turned her chair, and wheeled out of my room.

  I stepped off the bed and started for the bathroom. It felt like I was walking on a floor of balloons. My ankles wobbled at first and then I grew stronger. I splashed cold water on my face and brushed back my hair. Still feeling weak, I went to my closet and found something to wear. Mildred came to my room just as I finished dressing.

  "Mr. Delorice wanted me to see if you were hungry," she said. "I'll bring you something."

  "No, I can come down. Thank you, Mildred."

  She said she would make me some hot soup and a toasted cheese sandwich, which I told her sounded good. When I went out into the hallway I saw the door to Celine's bedroom was open so I peeked in. She was in bed, staring up at the ceiling.

  "I'm feeling better," I said. She didn't respond. "Are you all right, Mother?"

  She closed her eyes. My heart began to thump. Was she so angry at me that she would pretend not to hear me? I hurried away as fast as I could and descended the stairs. Sanford was on the phone in his den talking to someone at his factory. He waved when I appeared in the doorway and indicated he would be right with me. I went into the dining room and Mildred brought me my soup and sandwich.

  "Is Celine very angry at me?" I asked when Sanford appeared.

  "No, no," he said. "She's disappointed, but things will look better in the morning. They always do. How are you doing?" he asked, petting my hair.

  "I'm better. I feel like I just climbed a high mountain and ran miles," I told him. He smiled and nodded.

  "I guess it's true when they say men have it easier. I'll just go look in on Celine," he added and left to go upstairs.

  When he came down again, he looked more concerned. He flashed a quick smile at me and told me he had to go to the factory for a little while.

  "Celine's resting. Try not to disturb her," he added, and left.

  I went upstairs quietly, thinking again that I would just peek in on her, but Celine's door was closed. It remained closed for the rest of the day and night. I watched some television, read, and went up to bed before Sanford returned from the factory.

  When I woke in the morning, I did feel better. The sun was shining brightly through my curtains. I wanted to wear something cheerful so I chose a yellow blouse with a white skirt and the light blue sneakers Celine and Sanford had bought me the first week I arrived. I fixed my hair into a ponytail. When I stepped out of my room, I saw that Celine's bedroom door was still closed, but I imagined Sanford was downstairs at the dining room table, reading his paper and waiting for me as he had been almost every morning since they brought me here from the orphanage.

  When I got downstairs, however, there was no one in the dining room. Mildred came from the kitchen and told me Sanford had been up very early and was already gone.

  "What about my mother?" I asked her.

  "I brought her breakfast, but she didn't eat much of her dinner last night and she didn't look like she was very interested in any breakfast. She hardly spoke," she added, shaking her head. "I think she's sick."

  "Maybe Sanford went for the doctor," I said.

  "No," Mildred said. The way she pressed her lips shut told me she knew more. "He didn't go for the doctor."

  "What is it, Mildred? What else is wrong?"

  "I don't know that anything's wrong," she said. "Mr. Delorice, he was very concerned about his business this morning. Not that I listen in on his phone calls," she added quickly.

  "I know you don't, Mildred Please tell me what you do know," I pleaded.

  "Something happened at the factory this week, but I don't know what. I just know it's made him very upset," she said "I'll bring you some breakfast."

  "I'm going up to see my mother first," I told her and hurried up the stairway. I knocked on Celine's door but she didn't respond. I waited a moment and then opened it slowly and peered in.

  Celine was in her wheelchair staring out a window. She was still in her nightgown and her hair was unbrushed. She wore no lipstick.

  "Mother?" I said coming up behind her. She didn't turn, so I spoke louder. She simply stared out the window. "Are you all right, Mother?"

  Suddenly she started to laugh. It began with a low rumbling in her throat, and then her face broke into a wide smile with a wild look in her eyes and her laughter got louder, stranger. Tears began to stream out of her eyes. Her shoulders shook. She seized the wheels of her chair and rolled them forward and then backward, and forward again until she hit the wall.

  "Mother, what are you doing? Why are you doing that?" I cried.

  She simply laughed and continued.

  I stepped away.

  "Stop it," I screamed. "Please?'

  Her laughter grew even louder as she wheeled forward and backward, each time slamming harder into the wall.

  "Mother! Stop!"

  She didn't so I turned and ran from the room right into Sanford, who was coming up the stairway.

  "Something's wrong with Celine," I cried. "She won't stop laughing and she keeps wheeling her chair into the wall."

  "What? Oh no."

  He hurried past me and into the bedroom. I heard him pleading with her to stop. Her laughter was still so loud I had to cover my ears because it was so terrifying. Mildred came to the foot of the stairway.

  "What's wrong, Janet?"

  "It's Celine. She won't stop laughing."

  "Oh no," she said and shook her head. "She did that once before." She shook her head again and walked away.

  I looked toward Celine's bedroom, my heart thumping so hard I thought my chest would just split apart.

  Finally the laughter stopped. I started toward the bedroom but before I got there, Sanford closed the door. I stood there for a while and then went downstairs to wait. Mildred brought me some juice, toast, and eggs, but I couldn't eat anything. Not long afterward, I heard the doorbell and Mildred welcomed Dr. Franklin. He hurried up the stairs. I followed, but again I heard the bedroom door shut.

  The doctor remained in there a long time. I went downstairs to wait and then went out front and sat on the bench under the weeping willow trees. It was such a pretty day, with only a puff of marshmallow cloud here and there. Birds were singing and fluttering all around me. A curious squirrel paused and stared at me, even when I began to speak to it. Then it scurried up a tree. On such a glorious morning, how could things be so gray and dismal in my heart?

  Finally the front door opened. Sanford stood talking softly to Dr. Franklin for a few moments. They shook hands and the doctor walked to his car. I rose and he looked my way.

  "And how are you feeling?" he asked.

  "I'm better. How's my mother?"

  "Sanford will speak to you," he said cryptically and got into his car. I watched him drive off and then I hurried into the house. Sanford was in his den on the phone again. He held his right forefinger up and then turned in his chair so his back was to me as he continued his conversation. I d
idn't know where to go. Suddenly I felt so lost. I felt like a stranger, an intruder. Celine's bedroom door was still shut tight. I wandered through the house, paused at the studio, and then went up to my room and sat on my bed, waiting. It seemed forever until Sanford came up.

  "I'm sorry," he said. "I have a crisis at my plant. It seems my foreman was embezzling from me .but luckily I found out in time I could have been bankrupted. I've had to work things out with my business man.. er and accountant as well as the district attorney and that's still not over. In the middle of it all . . well, Celine's not doing well."

  "What's wrong with her?" I asked, my eyes tearing. "Is it all my fault?"

  "No, no," he said. He stood there gazing at me for a moment and then he took a deep breath, looked toward the window, his own eyes glassing over, and shook his head "It's all my fault. I put her in that chair, not you. I took away the thing that meant the most to her, that gave her a reason to be. We've just been going through the motions of living ever since," he added. "Then, she woke up one morning and thought about us adopting someone like you. I thought it was our salvation, my salvation, I should say.

  "I didn't think it out properly," he continued, crossing my room to stand by the window. He spoke with his back to me. "I should have realized what you, what anyone in your shoes--pointe shoes," he corrected, turning to me with a smile, "would be put through. It wasn't fair."

  "I didn't mind it," I said quickly. "It's been hard, but ..

  "It's been cruel," he corrected, turning to me. "That's what it's been. Your childhood has been disregarded, ignored, sacrificed to satisfy an unrealistic dream. You can never be what Celine wants--you can't give her back her legs, her career, her dream. No one can, even the most talented dancer. She tried to live through you, and I am sorry to say, I let it happen because it bought me some peace and relief from my own dark, oppressive clouds of guilt." He smiled. "In a way, Janet, I have been exploiting you, too. I'm sorry"

  "I don't understand," I cried.

  "I know. It's too much to lay on someone your age. It's very unfair to burden you so. This family has more baggage than anyone can imagine.

  "Anyway," he continued with his hands behind his back, "I can't ignore Celine's deeper problems anymore. She's going to need professional help and it will be a very long and arduous journey, one that may never end. I'm sorry," he said, "that I ever permitted you to be brought into this. You're still young enough to have another chance, a better chance for a good, healthy young life:'