Butterfly

Copyright © 2013 by Isabelle Eoka.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Rev. date: 03/06/2013

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I couldn’t sleep. My face felt swollen, and the cut on my left eye was hurting really bad. My head bolts very hard, and I made an effort just to blink. I’ve been lying on this side for too long. Now my right arm felt numb. The green digital lights were showing 3.17 a.m. I’ve only slept for two hours, and I had to wake up in six.

I stood up from the shared bed of mine and went to the bathroom. Standing there, looking at my reflection, made me depressed. Never in a million years could I think that my own love could do this to me. Ever since we’ve got married, Gabriel has changed a lot.

The cut was really deep. I sighed and thought this will need a lot of foundation. I leaned closer to the mirror to see how deep my wound was. I touched the under and the upper side of the wound to widen it up a bit so I could actually see how deep it was. Blood started dripping. I got some tissues before the blood reached my eye. I had to put pressure on the wound so the blood would stop dripping. I closed my eyes really hard because I knew it would hurt.

Aah, ssshit.

I heard some moving around from the bed. I froze like I used to do when I came home late, and I thought I heard my dad move around upstairs. The thought of it made me smile inside. I missed them so much.

I got back to bed with a tear coming down my cheek.

‘Where’ve you been?’ He was talking with half of his face on his pillow so it took me a while to figure out what he had just said.

‘Just the bathroom,’ I whispered.

‘Estoy enamorado de ti, you know that, right?’

I could not believe what he had just said to me—after everything he’d done!

He thought that those words, ‘I’m in love with you’, will make all the times he’d hurt me go away into the dark. Now he turned facing me. I was staring at the ceiling.

‘Steph, estoy enamorado de ti. Don’t you ever forget that.’

I woke the next morning by noises from the kitchen downstairs. It sounded like pots and tea cans, maybe something getting fried and that smell. Was he making breakfast?

Before I went downstairs, I looked at myself in the bathroom mirror. The cut was still bad, but my face was all right; it wasn’t swollen anymore. I need to do something about my wound; you could clearly see it.

I took a quick shower and put my fringe down before going downstairs.

‘Why do you always take long in the bathroom? The eggs are getting cold. Come, eat.’

He stood there with only his pyjamas pants on, flattering his golden brown, sunbathed, muscular upper body. Even though I was angry at him, I couldn’t help but feel a little bit attracted. I am so angry at him, but at the same time, I was starving. I gave in.

‘Let’s see what you’ve made. Mm, not only eggs but pancakes as well. Very sweet.’

‘Gracias, babe. I hope you like it. I have to go change.’

I tasted the pancakes first and then the eggs. The pancakes were delicious and the eggs wonderful. I admit that he is a very good cook, very good.

‘Mm, it’s delicious.’

‘Thanks. Erm, about last night…’

‘OK, what is it this time?’

‘My job stressed me out. I wasn’t thinking straight. I had a migraine, and you made it worse, or sorry for taking my anger out on you.’

I really didn’t want to hear it. He was not even looking me in the eyes when he was saying his ‘excuse’.

‘I’m so sorry, querida. I was upset about something from work…’

I knew he would blame work.

‘And you didn’t make it easier. I was just…’

I wondered if he was seriously blaming it on me. I couldn’t stand it.

‘I don’t want to hear it. It’s the same thing every time. I don’t know if I can keep doing this. I didn’t deserve it.’

‘I know, and I’m sorry. It won’t happen again. Promesa.’

When he came back down, he had his blue uniform with ‘George’s Garage’ written on the back.

‘I’m off.’

Kiss on the lips and then gone.

I put my favourite Neo-soul album on and sang at the top off my lungs. I couldn’t be bothered to do the dishes.

I put on my clothes and hair was done, now face. I never used much make-up, but that day I got a wound to cover. It took about ten minutes to get done and then I was off.

The traffic was mad. Cars everywhere, and the noise made my head explode. I felt that someone or something was staring at me, but I didn’t know from what direction.

Right? No, left? Yes. That hot black guy was staring hard at me. He made it hard for me to concentrate on the road. What did he want? Could he see my cut?

Toot toot!

‘Come on, lady, move!’

Oh, green light.

‘Sorry!’

I parked my car at Hotel’s parking area for staff. I met Louise in the elevator. The conversation went on and on. She really likes to talk. She didn’t see the cut.

We always get posh people in this hotel. My first customers were a couple, maybe in their early forties; they had some fabulous designer clothes on and jewellery everywhere.

‘Welcome to The Hotel. How may I be at your service today?’

‘Hello there (looking at my badge), Stephanie D’Almeida. You don’t look South American?’

‘Heh no, actually D’Almeida is my husband’s name.’

‘Well, that sounds fascinating.’

‘Mm, I don’t know about that. So do you want to make a reservation or have you already made one?’

‘Yes, check the name Green.’

I told Calvin to escort the couple to their penthouse room at the top floor.

Suki, Calvin, Sebastian, Jamie, and I went to the café across the road at lunch.

Just hanging out with them makes me forget everything that happened yesterday. I was really enjoying myself. We were talking about everything, from TV shows to food, from the environment to celebrities.

‘What are you doing tonight, Steph?’

‘Hmm, I don’t know yet. What do you have in mind, JJ?’

‘We could go and get a couple of drinks. Like a girls’ night out kind of thing.’

‘Hah, just us two? Sounds pathetic, a little bit sad… I can ask Mina if she wants to come.’

Suki raised her coffee cup to signal us that her presence will be present.

‘I am already there.’

I had loud music blasting from my speakers on my way home.

I’d opened my window and let my hair down. My hair was like waves in the air. It felt like I was doing a shampoo commercial. I was actually looking forward to that night; I was going to look good and get drunk and dance. My daydreaming had taken me so far away from reality that I almost missed the red light. Tooooot!

‘Sorry!’

I hate that it takes an hour for me to find my keys in my bag, especially now when I got to pee. Where are they?

‘Finally!’

I slammed open the door and ran to the bathroom. Relief. I washed my hands and locked the door. It was already 5 p.m., and I had lots of things to do.

Gabe came at 6 p.m., longing for food.

‘Is the food done yet?!’

‘No.’

‘Huh?!’

He was upstairs in the shower.

‘No! In a minute! Gosh.’

Me and Gabe were eating and talking now. Conversation had never been an issue in our relationship. Everything was good. We could talk about anything for hours. We could be silent without feeling forced to say something. Everything was good, exactly everything. Just sometimes things go wrong, but nothing was perfect. I loved him. I really did, and I knew he loved me and I believed him. But there was a big cloud of doubt deep in my head growing each day. How could the one that loved you so much be the one that was hurting you? This thought was stuck in my head when I woke up and when I went to sleep. I didn’t deserve that treatment, and I didn’t need it.

‘By the way I’m going out tonight.’

‘With whom?’

‘Some friends.’

‘Cool.’

I could clearly see that it wasn’t ‘cool’. His head tilted to the side when he got irritated or when something bugged him.

‘What is it?’

No response.

‘What is it?’

‘I just thought that we could stay in tonight.’

I was not staying at home that night; I’d been staying at home for two damn weeks in a row.

‘Aw, that’s sweet, but I’ve been staying in for the last two weeks. You can come if you want to.’

‘No, no, it’s a girl’s night out thing.’

‘All right then,