The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (13 page)

“Do not say it. No need...not anymore.”

“But please allow me...”

“Shhh!”

He gave a little giggle. “Okay, Miss.”

“Alright.”

“So...”

“Yes?”

“I mean...” He paused, shifting awkwardly. “Where do we...like...stand now?”

She looked away. “I don’t know.”

“I mean...are we...on?”

“If you want.”

If
I
want? You’re pushing it on
me
now? “I mean, doesn’t it bother you anymore that I...I cheated you?”

“Didn’t you say that it was the
you
you and not the physical or sociological one that I had always liked?”

“That means...”

“That means that...like you said in your letter...if Lucio is suddenly Wolf, if a sound engineer is suddenly a movie actor, it doesn’t change...”

“Yes.”

“You know, you should really allow me to complete my thoughts.” And she laughed, and Wolf laughed back, and suddenly the air lay on its back and exhaled.

“Come here,” he said.

“What?”

His arms were out for her.

A second of hesitation...then wavering no more and she went over to him.

He took her in a clinch and their faces buried in the other’s neck.

They stayed that way for a long time, their bodies warm against each other.

Who could have guessed that this, essentially, was their first ever face-to-face in life? They were as easy and comfortable with each other as life-long lovers.
Inexplicable phenomenon.

Savannah was the first to look up.

Her eyes were swimming, her hair somewhat disheveled from being held tight, but she smiled at Wolf and quickly dabbed her face on the sleeve of her cross-shoulder. It was the same dress she had worn the day Wolf had called on her the first time.

There was a knock on the door.

“Come in, Robin,” Wolf said, raising his voice.

The door opened. It was Grant Butcher.

He froze abruptly when he saw a strange woman in Wolf’s bedroom. But he recovered swiftly.

“The Home has been calling, Wolf. You should really return Robin now. It is ten,” he said, glanced once more at Savannah, before leaving.

“Wow!” Savannah exclaimed.

“What?”

“The President himself!” she said in open wonderment. “I’m a huge fan of his, you know. He’s doing a swell job for the nation.”

“Want to meet him?”

“I don’t think I can handle it right now.”

“You can handle a hot Hollywood superstar but you can’t handle a mere President?” Wolf said, the shock loud on his face. “How strange!”

She gave him a cold glare.

Wolf grinned. “Anyways... Look, I have to drop Robin off. You want to come with me?”

“Drop her off?”

“Yes...let’s go.”

And before she could ask any more, he had picked up his cap and jacket and shades and left the room. Savannah hastily followed him.

.

I
t was only after Robin had been dropped back at the Home that Savannah broached it.

“I didn’t know she wasn’t part of your family. She told me her name was Robin
Butcher.
I thought maybe she was your brother’s daughter.”

He didn’t say anything for a while. His mood had plunged since seeing Robin off.

“Wolf?”

He took a swift breath. “Well, she comes to our place over weekends. We all like her very much,” he said stiffly.

“She’s a sweet kid.”

“I know.”

“Her right arm...something happened?”

He told her. And he told her a lot more. Everything except what Robin
really
meant to him. It was too soon, too personal, to tell her
everything.

He had been driving around randomly. “So what next?” he said, turning to her.

“Can you drop me off at my place?”

They were there in seven minutes.

“Come on up. I’ll fix you a drink,” she said.

When they reached her apartment, Savannah said, “It’s not what you’re used to. But it’s my home. So please do come in.” She stood aside to let him in.

“I’ve been here before, you know,” he giggled.

“Oh, how can I ever forget that!”

A glint came to his eyes. “You won’t call the police today, will you?”

She gave him a nasty look.

.

I
t was a small living room, fifteen feet by thirteen, but as Wolf settled down on the maroon settee (seating three) he immediately felt at ease.

“What would you like?” she asked.

“A beer, if you have one.”

“Nothing stronger?”

“I don’t.”

“Alright, sir.”

As she turned around and disappeared to what must be the kitchen, Wolf thought she looked swell in the cross-shoulder dress.
Erotic, if truth be told.
He especially loved her skin tone—thankfully, she wasn’t too tanned and retained most of her naturalness. He particularly liked the way her face pinked at the slightest exertion.

He looked around the place now, with more attentiveness.

Yes, he liked it. It had a priceless quality about it that defied precise definition. A quality that relaxed you instantly, and relaxed was what Wolf felt as he waited for Savannah to return.

On either side of him were square wooden tables, on which stood porcelain vases holding shaded lamps. Perpendicular to his settee were a couple of cushioned armchairs and in the center a rectangular mahogany coffee table. Against the opposite wall was the wall unit. Comprehensive and broad, it accommodated a slew of amenities: a 32 inch LCD television, a DVD player, a Kenwood music system. Then there was the display cabinet, with a wide range of artifacts: from miniature stone carvings to porcelain pieces—a Mother Mary, a bald eagle, a rhinoceros... And a bronze Buddha, a pair of imitation-ivory tusks, a couple of sandalwood elephants, a potted silver tree, designer candles of various forms and colors... Running along the top portion of the unit was the bookshelf, which included a complete range of the encyclopedia Britannica. There were other assorted items, artistically arranged: a twelve inch globe, a junior telescope, a Christ bust, a mantel clock...

On both sides of the wall unit were doors, shrouded in curtains, and Wolf guessed the one Savannah had disappeared behind, to his left, lead to the kitchen. He looked at the walls and a smile came to his face. The ceiling was flat white latex and the walls a flat light-gray, with the columns a slightly darker shade. The lower gloss finish gave the room a soft, smooth look, enhancing the pleasant feel. Wolf now understood why she had found his room
interesting
and what it implied. Everything was so sober about this place. Savannah Burns’s home looked mellow, smelled mellow, tasted mellow, sounded mellow...felt mellow.

He looked down. The wall to wall carpet was a mixed-design assorted-color. It looked as good as new, but Wolf knew it wasn’t. He also knew Savannah wouldn’t have a housemaid, which meant she looked after the apartment herself, and Wolf nodded approvingly. He looked at the walls again. The paintings were mostly abstract. They explained very little but were pleasing on the eyes.

On Wolf’s left was a small dining table with four chairs, and further on were the windows and a door, which he guessed led to the balcony on the east. On his right were another couple of double-windows, from which flowed in the pleasant westerly breeze.

What however truly seized his attention was the wide spread of indoor plants. They were all over the place, but so expertly arranged that they were neither overbearing nor impeding. Wolf got to his feet and went to his right. A Money Plant creeper slithered up a wall corner to the ceiling, then snaked its way across, over discreetly attached green plastic cable. He recognized some of the other potted plants. The ‘Malay Stripe’, with its short variegated leaves and branching cane-like stems was unmistakable. Then there was the ‘Happy Plant’, of long oblong leaves and yellow stripes in the center. Wolf crouched over another pot that he didn’t recognize but which held his attention.

“That’s the Cissus Ivy,” she said, startling him. He spun around, still crouched.

She had a mug of frothing beer in one hand. In the other, she held a cup of hot chocolate.

He rose to his feet and took the mug. “A great collection you have here.”

“Well...” she shrugged.

They went back to the seating. He retook the settee; she took the armchair to his left.

“You aren’t having beer?” he asked.

“No alcohol for me.”

Really?
“You’ve never had alcohol?”

“Once, a very long time ago.”

“A smoke?”

“Never.”

“Unbelievable.”

She laughed, tossing her shoulder, as if to say,
what’s so unbelievable about it?

They talked, this and that, then the topic slowly veered back to Robin.

“It’s so unfortunate about her,” Savannah said. “What sort of a mother would abandon a child as delightful as this?”

He shook his head. “Perhaps a she-devil.”

“Even a she-devil wouldn’t descend so low,” she said. “Not with her own child at least.”

He was feeling the mild high of the light brew waft through his veins already and he relaxed further. He looked at the woman before him and again noted how pretty she was. Way prettier than the pics she had sent him over the Internet. But it was a prettiness that went beyond the pelt. No one had come across more pretty women than him. Hollywood was littered with them—they were more universal than sand grains on Venice beach. But finally it was a prettiness that was barely membrane deep. A sham...a facade, which crashed the moment the get-up did. Not this woman. There was something singular about her. Something that had come through to him in some unfathomable way over the Internet. A little woman, a common, everyday woman, but one he had fallen for even before he had met her.

He studied her. What truly surprised him, though, was that she had no adornments on her person. No chain around her neck, no rings on her fingers, nothing on her wrist. Much like him. But while he was a man, she was a woman, and he had never known a woman, however impoverished (and impoverished this woman certainly wasn’t) without
some
enhancement on her. Later, she would tell him that she had risen from bed one morning and just given it up, without any apparent reason. She just hadn’t felt like it anymore.

She was smiling quietly at him.

“What?” he demanded realizing it now.

“You’ve been gawking at me with such curious interest.”

He flushed. He looked at his beer mug and frowned at it.

“Now, now, don’t blame that poor thing,” she ribbed. “And I thought
you
were the Hollywood superstar here.”

He looked up. Their gazes locked.

And slowly...slowly...their eyes turned acute.

The mantle clock arms dissolved into each other, becoming one entity, announcing midnight. Outside, as if on cue, the westerly picked up.

They remained locked into one another for a long time. Finally, Wolf set his beer mug down on the coffee table. Without taking his eyes off her, he slowly rose to his feet. She followed suit, placing her cup down carefully alongside his mug, touching. He took a step forward. She waited. His face was tense. Hers was slightly flushed. He reached out and touched her now, lightly on the shoulder, feeling awkward. They had touched and hugged ardently but a short time ago. But this was different. That was almost innocent. This, they both knew, would take them on a path from where there would be no turning back.

He took both her shoulders now, and she lowered her head and held him softly around the waist. He put a hand under her chin and gently raised her face, then moved his mouth closer to hers. She shut her eyes. That gave him a push of courage and he placed his mouth on hers. For a second she quivered, then there was a sudden eruption. Their lips mashed and they clung to each other frantically, letting loose the emotions that had built up over the past months.

But
more
demanded, and Savannah flung her arm in the direction of the bedroom.

For the briefest of moments, Wolf hesitated, as if suddenly unsure. But the heat was burning inside him and he hauled her up in his arms and carried her in the direction she had indicated.

The bedroom felt
warm,
like the living room. The drapes were drawn and Wolf laid Savannah on the mattress. They kept the lights off and they could barely see, but it didn’t matter.

He was quickly atop her, clothes and all. They kissed again, long and deep, their crotches grinding, their passion brewing through their garments.

Finally he could take it no more. He pulled himself off her, then was back, attacking her clothes. Once done, he doffed his in a wink.