The Butterfly’s Daughter (10 page)

Luz cast a quick glance at Suzanne, who stood scowling with her arms crossed.

“What was that about?” Suzanne asked.

Ofelia made an effort to shrug it off. “Oh, I was stupid. I guess I didn't tell Angel to pick me up here. He's waiting at the restaurant.”

“Do you realize how many times you just said you were sorry?” Suzanne asked.

“Hey, it was my fault, okay?” She slanted a nervous glance at Luz. “Suzanne, this is Luz, the girl I told you about. I'm, like, so sorry, but I gotta run. Angel is waiting. I'll see you tomorrow.” She hugged Luz, then turned to Suzanne. “Take good care of my girl, okay?”

Ofelia raced down the stairs so fast that Luz was afraid she'd fall.

After the door closed Suzanne shook her head. “That Angel keeps her under his thumb, wants to know wherever she goes. And he has a dangerous temper. You heard how he intimidates her? She'll never admit it, but I'm sure he slaps her around. Sometimes I see her with a bruise that she covers with makeup.”

“Why doesn't she come back here?”

“I wish she would and she knows my door is always open. But
bottom line—she won't leave him. There's nothing I can do unless she asks for my help. And now with the baby coming”—she shook her head again—“it's not likely. I've seen it over and over. Battered women are made to feel like the problem is their fault. In the end, they lose their self-esteem.”

“Ofelia doesn't strike me as someone with low self-esteem.”

“You mean her attitude? Don't let that fool you. Underneath that tough-girl exterior, she's really a pretty insecure kid.” She sighed in resignation and lifted her hands toward the stairs. “Anyway, let me show you your room.”

Suzanne led Luz to the converted attic on the third floor. The bedroom across the hall from hers was empty so she didn't have to share the bathroom. Hers was a spare room, clean, and painted a daffodil yellow with a pale blue trim that matched the cotton bedspread on the twin bed. Under the steep dormer sat a small painted desk.

Luz closed the door and crossed the room in a few steps. She looked around the spartan space. Her suitcase sat on the painted wood floor, her coat on the narrow bed. Suddenly her decision to go to San Antonio felt very real. She was twenty-one, alone in the world, she'd left her home in Milwaukee, and for the next day or two, this was home.

She scrubbed her face, changed into warm pajamas, then, exhausted and road weary, climbed under the thin blanket on the narrow bed. Noise from the street poured in through her window: a drunken man was shouting something unintelligible, car doors slammed, dogs barked, garbage cans clattered, and the wail of the police sirens was as persistent as the song of cicadas in the country. Luz brought the cotton blanket higher up to her neck and shivered with a cold that felt more like fear.

She turned to her side and reached for her phone, cradling it to her chest. It felt like a lifeline to Sully. Suddenly it rang, startling her. She wiped her eyes and looked at the number. It was Sully. She flipped open the phone.

“Hi. I was just thinking about you.”

“Hi,” he replied, and she heard his relief at hearing her voice. “You okay?”

At the sound of his voice her heart squeezed. “Yeah. I miss you.”

“I miss you, too. It's weird not having you here.”

He sounded sleepy. She imagined that he'd eaten some takeout dinner and was lying in bed, like she was. He lived in a modest apartment in a brick two-flat in the city. It was a typical guy's place with sparse metal and wood furniture collected from home and garage sales, a bicycle parked against a wall beside other athletic equipment, and a kitchen filled with mugs for coffee. She'd stayed there often, telling her grandmother that she was staying with a girlfriend. It had felt ridiculous to be a grown woman with a job and still have to lie about where she spent her nights. But her grandmother had been old-fashioned and Luz didn't want to upset her, so the ruse continued.

“So, how far did you get?” he asked.

Luz curled her toes. “Not far, actually.”

“Like, where? St. Louis?”

“Chicago.”

There was a silence. “
What?
”

“Well”—she took a breath—“I had a little car trouble.”

“Shit.”

“It's nothing bad. A fuel pump.”

“Why didn't you call me? Luz, I'da come down to fix it. Where is it now?”

“It's at a good mechanic here in town. He's ordered the part. So you don't have to worry. It's all taken care of.”

There was a long pause and she imagined him counting to ten. He cleared his throat, a sure sign he was upset.

“Where are you now?” His voice was determinedly level.

Luz took another breath, looking around her spare room. “I'm at a . . . bed-and-breakfast.”

“Luz, I could've come down to get you. You don't need to be staying in a hotel.”

“I'm okay. And I didn't want to bother you.”

He sighed, and she envisioned him putting his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he thought. She could almost hear the gears in his brain grinding as he worked out his rescue plan.

“Okay . . . I've got a few cars coming in first thing in the morning but I'll come pick you up at noon, latest. Hell, I can come get you right now.”

Luz moved to a sitting position, tucking her legs tightly beneath her. “I don't want you to pick me up.”

“What do you mean?”

“I've got it under control. I'll get the car fixed and keep on going like I planned. This doesn't change anything.”

“Wha—You're serious? You're still planning on driving that heap of tin to Mexico? After this?”

“No. Just to Texas. I'll see what happens there.” She could feel the seed of tension take root in her chest. “Sully, we talked about this already.”

“That was before you broke down. It's gonna happen again.”

“Then I'll get it fixed again.”

“Just tell me where you are.” He ground out the words.

“Sully,” she said firmly, pulling her shoulders back. She felt her
heart pounding in her chest. “I don't want you to come pick me up. It's okay. I'm okay.”

There was another silence. The last thing she wanted to do tonight was fight with Sully. “You know how much this means to me. You just have to have a little faith. I can handle this.” She wanted him to understand. To take her side. “I'm afraid if I don't do this, I'll be lost forever. Does that make sense?”

“No. It isn't safe, Luz. I can't stand the thought of you traveling cross-country in that car all alone.”

She took a deep breath, trying to remain reasonable. She knew Sully was a traditional guy who believed in traditional roles. The man married, settled down, took care of his family. It was hard for him to understand, much less accept her notion of going off alone across the country.

“I know you're worried, but I've thought this through. My car will get repaired and I'm going to continue my trip. This is just a glitch.”

“A glitch . . .” She heard a derisive snort. “You're just being stubborn. Listen, I know what I'm talking about and I'm telling you it's not safe. If you continue on this crazy trip the next call I get will be from some policeman telling me he's found your body on the side of the road.”

“Nice,” she snapped. Luz stood up and looked out the window. The moon was barely visible behind the buildings, a sliver of hope in a sea of black.

He started arguing with her then, his voice growing louder and more strident as he told her over and over what a bad idea this was. She held the phone away from her ear. In her heart, she knew it was just his fear for her talking, but she didn't want to listen anymore. His words were wearing her down.

“I'm going to say good-bye now, Sully.”

“Don't hang up on me. We're not finished talking.”

“We're not talking. You're yelling and I'm waiting for it to be over. That's not a conversation.”

“Then we just keep talking. Hey, look, I know I'm being bullheaded, but your grief is making you irrational.”

“Sully . . .”

“You're a smart girl. You're not some flake. So don't start acting like one now. Be the levelheaded girl I love and come home. Or I'm coming down to get you.”

Luz took the phone away from her ear and stared at it in her hand. She knew he was worried and his heart was in the right place. But she didn't want him discouraging her now when she needed his support the most. She brought the phone back to her ear with a sigh. “I'm tired,” she said in a voice hoarse from fatigue. “It's been a tough day and I have to get up early tomorrow. So good night, okay? I'll talk to you in the morning.”

There was a long silence.

“Okay? Good night, Sully. Sully?”

“So, you're still going then.” It wasn't a question but a statement of fact.

“Yes.”

There was another long silence.

“Sully, try to understand. I have to do this.”

“I don't understand. But it doesn't seem to matter.”

“It
does
.”

“What do you want me to say?”

“I don't know. Something supportive. Like good luck.”

He laughed, but there was a bitter sound to it. “Sure. Good night and good luck.”

She heard a click and the dead silence of disconnection.

He'd hung up on her. Luz's mouth dropped open in a silent gasp. They'd had arguments before, but no matter how hard they fought they'd never been so rude as to hang up without saying at least “Gotta go.” She closed her cell phone with a snap, then crawled back under the covers. A moment later the phone rang again. She scrambled to grab the phone and bring it to her ear.

“I shouldn't've hung up on you,” Sully said.

Luz sighed with relief and rolled onto her back. “No, you shouldn't have,” she said, but there was no scolding in her tone. “You never did before.”

“I guess I'm just scared. For you. For us.”

She was about to say “Don't be,” but thought better of it. He didn't need to hear platitudes now. He was telling her how
he
felt, which for Sully was a big deal. He was good at being strong and supportive for her, but rarely revealed when he was feeling insecure about something and needed support. Instead she said, “I'm scared, too.”

“I'm glad to hear it. That means you'll be careful.”

She smiled inwardly. He was beginning to accept her decision. “What are you most scared of?”

“I'm scared I won't see you again. I'm scared you'll change. I'm scared of all the bad that can happen.”

She'd thought of all those same things and they scared her, too. “When I get scared, I try not to think of all the bad that can happen. Instead, I think of all the good things. Like I'm going to meet my family. I'm already meeting some really neat people. I'm going places I've never been before. I'm thinking for myself, making decisions for myself. It's all good.”

“Yeah. Okay. I'll hold on to that.”

Outside she heard the police sirens blaring, but on the other end of the line she heard the soft and steady sound of Sully's breathing, and she felt safe. She yawned.

“You should go to sleep now,” Sully said.

“Okay. Good night, Sully.”

“Good night. Sleep tight. And call me in the morning.”

This time the click was soft and she didn't feel disconnected. Luz curled her legs higher into her chest and tucked her arms tight. Hearing his voice made her miss him all the more and she felt torn again between her decision to keep going and the fear that Sully was right and she was taking too many risks.

Then she remembered the butterfly in her garden, how she'd fluttered her wings and without hesitation lifted herself into the air, fearlessly beginning her journey south to a place she'd never been before. No one was telling her to stay home. She had to fly or die.

Such courage, eh?

Luz closed her eyes, feeling as small and fragile as the butterfly. What was courage? She didn't know. Maybe courage was listening to one's own voice rather than the opinions of others. Paying heed to the call of one's instincts, no matter how small and weak the voice sounded in her ears.

Before sleep overcame her, Luz wondered if maybe courage was nothing more than taking wing and staying the course.

The journey south is difficult and filled with danger. Often the monarchs' wings get torn and damaged, but they persevere.

T
he iron mantle of winter loomed in the daunting gray clouds over Lake Michigan. Luz found the appeal of her journey south growing with every gust of wind. She woke early on her third day in Chicago, eager to pick up her car and get back on her journey. In the back of her mind she ticked off the days of the calendar. She was in the second week of October, and if she was going to find her aunt in San Antonio, then head off to Mexico in time for the Day of the Dead, she needed to hustle.

The lunch rush was over at the taqueria. Luz scrubbed the last pot till she removed every bit of baked-on grime. Then she took a cloth and wiped the stainless steel counter with the fervor of a sailor on deck, not settling till it gleamed.

“Hey,
chica. ¿Estás loca?
” Ofelia leaned in to tell her, elbowing her gently in her side. “You want to make the rest of us look bad? We don't want Cordero to get used to this.”

“I'm just trying to leave everything clean. It's my last day and all.”

“Still, girlfriend . . .
slow down
. I'm still working here when you go, you know?”

Luz leaned back on the counter and blew out a plume of air. Her hands were chapped from the bleach cloth she used to wipe the tables, and her feet sore from hours running food and refilling beverages. Yet, she'd enjoyed the past few days at the taqueria. The banter with Ofelia kept her mind off the gaping hole in her heart that grieved for Abuela, and the pace of taking orders for tacos, tamales, and beans was so fast that she didn't have time to be self-conscious about her Spanish. Table by table she butchered the language, but the orders somehow managed to come through.