The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (34 page)

Wolf looked away.

She studied him for a while. Then she opened the other door of the bedroom, which led to the backyard of the building. With a quick flick of wrists, she rid the plastics of its ancient dust.

“What’s the matter?” she asked when she returned, realizing he was staring at her.

“I was thinking how little I know about you. And we stay in the same house.”

“But I know everything about you,” she said and smiled, a little light coming to her eyes.

“Everything?”

“You want to test me?”

He didn’t.

“You almost died, you know,” she added soberly.

He had no answer.

She took out something from her pocket.

“These are yours, I guess,” she said, showing him a bottle full of pills. He looked away again. “You were so smashed, you couldn’t tell your hands from your feet. Yet, you were so bloody desperate to die you finally somehow managed to find the bottle. I had to kick it out of your hand. … Well, I guess, you won’t be needing them now.” She went to the backyard again.

She was back in fifteen seconds. “See? Gone.” She showed him the empty bottle.

His face was red.

“If I hadn’t got there in time, you would’ve been a martyr by now,” she added. “The whole planet would’ve been mourning a hero. They would’ve called it an accidental death and the world would have grieved doubly at this premature demise of its most favorite son.” She regarded him. “And then they would have given you a grand funeral, befitting a true champion. Wow! But this foolish woman spoilt the party. God have mercy…please forgive my sins!”

His face gathered into a pained frown.

She was merciless. “Your picture would have hung from the walls of countless homes. The nation would build a statue on Elizabeth Square, name a street after you, perhaps a district; even announce a reward in your name. Every year on your birthday, they would celebrate. Every death anniversary, they would hold a mass and remember you. Your grave would be visited by unending throngs from around the world and countless candles would be lit. And having done their duty toward you, they would be pleased and gratified and it would be business as usual. Life would go on. Over time, legends would circulate of your greatness. Memorabilia would be distributed and soon Wolf Butcher would become a merchandize, making a zillion hearts joyful, making a million people rich. Everyone would be happy, everyone would prosper this death of a hero.

“Everyone except two people.

“A young woman and a little girl. They would grieve in their hearts and burn in their souls. They would spend countless nights yearning for their man, a man they know would never be coming back, a man who had so earnestly promised to make them his family one day, but who failed them when it came to the crunch—a man who was really no man at all…a man without balls. And they would shed tears,
real
tears, blood tears, from their innermost core. But he would not be there for them—he had fled, like the worst coward on the planet. He was their failed champion, but they would still weep for him every night, still love him every waking hour.” Her eyes were alight. “Wow, what a hero, what an idol…what a Man! One in a zillion for sure! A rare, rare role-model.”

.

Wolf was staring at her incredulously, as if he couldn’t believe this was Rochelle speaking. He had never seen this form of hers, never imagined she was capable of such words, such manner. Never imagined her face could turn like this—so powerful, so scorching. So pitiless. It was as if he was watching someone else, someone who was talking through the mouth of Rochelle.

Only later, would he glaringly realize how right he had been in his assumptions.

.

“Look at you,” she continued. “Can anyone be more pathetic?” She shook her head in revulsion. “At the slightest hint of a difficulty, you reach for beer and sleeping pills. And now you finally jacked it up to a completely new level. And you are supposed to be an Icon, looked upon, loved and cherished by hundreds of millions in New Halcyon and around the world. Wow, some Icon, some inspiration! The world knows you as Hollywood’s top moviestar, one of the most successful people on the planet. My, what an illusion, what a deception!” Her eyes narrowed to pin-points and she leaned forward and pointed her forefinger at him, as if pointing a gun. “In truth, Wolf, you are nothing but the world’s biggest loser.”

Then Rochelle heard the sniveling. But she had no compassion. “If you had not been related to me, Wolf Butcher, I would have felt the deepest contempt for you. Your utter impotence would’ve repulsed me. How disgraceful is this mean weakness of the heart and mind that you exhibit! Shame on you! God have mercy, I don’t believe I’m involved with you in any way!”

He cracked. “But what can I do? They’ve taken away everything from me! They’ve plucked my soul. They’ve left me with nothing. How am I to live…tell me how?”

“God have mercy, how does a real man behave when confronted with a difficulty? By running away? By seeking shelter with drugs and alcohol? By trying to end his life?” She glared at him. “A real man with balls between his legs fights back. And fights back hard!”

She grabbed his hand. He was crying openly now. Her face softened.

“I can’t fight Dad,” he said. “I owe him my life. He was there for me when I needed someone most.” He shook his head. “No, I just can’t fight him!”

“But he failed you now.”

“No, he didn’t. He simply asked me to give him one thing in return for all that he had done for me. And…”

“So why don’t you give it to him when he means so much to you?”

“I can’t. Not this one thing. Let him ask for anything else, let him ask for my life, I’ll give it to him without hesitation.”

“Was that what you were doing at the beach? Giving your life for his benefit?” she asked acidly. “And why can’t you give Dad this one thing that he yearns for so badly?”

“I love Savannah too much. She’s the only woman I’ve ever loved. I’ve made my pledge to her. I cannot break it no matter what.”

“More than Dad?”

“These are two entirely different things!” he pleaded.

“Alright, look at it this way then. If Dad cannot even grant you the one thing that is the most prized thing in your life, does he deserve your devotion anymore?”

He could say nothing.

“And you show your commitment to this woman by forfeiting your life and making her suffer even more? In your death you would have righted everything, is it? Or are you just so selfish you cannot see anything beyond your own damn problems? I’m truly disillusioned in you, Wolf. I don’t know what I’m doing here, supporting you like this, neglecting my husband and wasting my time over someone like you. I’m disappointed in myself that I care for you so much.

“I’ll tell you something very intimate. Something I shouldn’t be telling you, but I shall nevertheless. I was awake all night, keeping a vigil, knowing the state you were in. My husband so badly wanted to make love to me, but I ignored him and waited quietly outside in the lobby, in case you needed help. And sure enough you left the house in a drunken haze in the middle of the night. I followed you…right to that beach. And I was right. If I had not followed you…” She paused for a second. “And why did I wait until you almost killed yourself? Because I wanted to see exactly how far you would go. I see now that I badly underestimated you.” She covered her forehead with her left hand.

.

Wolf was so wiped out then that it didn’t occur to him that if indeed she had followed him as she said, where was her automobile? There had been only one vehicle on the beach this night and it had been Wolf’s Gypsy.

.

She got to her feet. “Look, you can hide in this house till you want—all your damn life if you wish. But I have to go—I have things to do, people to care for, a home to look after. I’ll send a maid and she’ll clean you up and tidy the house and look after all your needs, and keep your mystery. I’ll make sure you’re well taken care of. But I must go. Goodbye, Wolf.”

He lunged and snatched her wrist.

“Please don’t! Stay with me. I need you.”

She turned and looked at him. Suddenly there was something in his eyes that she hadn’t seen before in all these days. He held her gaze unblinkingly this time. And a smile formed in Rochelle’s belly.

THE
Press conference was called for five in the evening the following day, Monday, April 21.

It was held at the rectangular Press House hall, on the ground floor of a posh eight story structure on Joseph Road. The centrally air-conditioned building was owned by the New Halcyon Press Club, and facilities ranged from hi-tech offices, to a large library, to snooker to table-tennis to badminton, to a world-class canteen, to rest rooms… For a fee, representatives of the world Press were granted use of the facilities on provisional basis.

The hall was spilling over well before time, an expectant buzz swirling in the air. Famished video cameras had arranged into hunting formation, wild-dogs awaiting their prey, eager to strike and devour.

A minute before five a sudden hush fell, then pandemonium as the quarry appeared out of nowhere. Wolf Butcher was escorted by four bodyguards, imposing black-belts in designer business suits, who quickly cut a swath through the chaotic predators, and Wolf, moving like a gazelle, was on the podium on the far side of the room in no time. More confusion followed, senseless confusion, as if the hunters were disjointed by the abruptness of it all and knew not what next to do. Flashlights blazed away in the direction of the prey, and finally a thirty
ish
woman appeared beside Wolf and raised her left hand, after briefly greeting Wolf.

“Friends, can we have some order here, please,” she thundered into the microphone. “Mr. Butcher has arrived as you can see and we would like to begin without any delay.”

Wolf leaned forward, his elbows on the table before him, and watched the predators. The three major national newspapers were of course represented and they hovered possessively over the prime front seats, like momma eagles over their precious chicks. To their right were the three national television channels. The rest of the first row and the second row was engaged by the local freelancers. Rows three through ten had representatives of the world media—from BBC to CNN, from LA Times to New York Times, from USA Today to The Washington Post, from CBS to ABC to NBC, from The Sun to The Wall Street Journal and The Daily Mail, from Huffington Post to Cosmopolitan to Playboy… And of course the movie Press. Wolf was slightly dazed by the interest his Press conference had spawned.
Sweet shit, what suckers they are for celebrity and trash! Phew!

He felt a few moths flap in his belly. After all, this was his first meet with the hacks in more than two years and used to it as he was of such encounters, it seemed in another lifetime altogether.

Yet, despite his nervousness, he felt good too. Good that he had recovered from the other night’s crack at himself. His recovery had been so swift and comprehensive, it had left him amazed at his overall physical condition.

Order was finally restored. The first wave of flashing lights and clicking cameras had subsided. The video cameras rolled on, but it had all fallen into some tidiness. The lady moderator made a small speech introducing Wolf (like he needed it) and flagging off the Press meet.

Wolf straightened and sat back in his lush chair (it was more a sofa, really).

“Thanks for coming,” he began stiffly and suddenly wished he had someone with him by his side, someone from his family. He would’ve most liked to have his Rock, Rochelle, with him. But she had firmly backed off.

“I’ve things to do, Wolf, I’m sorry but I can’t be with you,” she had said, almost detachedly.

“What things?” he had retorted defiantly, thinking what was so important she could not spare him an hour, when she had been with him all day Sunday and this morning.

“Woman things. Something testosterone won’t understand,” she had retorted back.

He had been prone to challenge her, but she had simply walked away from him.

“Well…” he now continued awkwardly. “The reason I called this Press meet was to announce my retirement from Hollywood. I’m quitting the movie business for good.”

A hum passed around the room.

“What brought about this sudden decision?” someone asked from the second row.

“Please rise and announce yourself and your publication or television channel. Or your questions shan’t be taken,” the female moderator, whose name Wolf learned was Uma, scolded self-importantly.

Wolf gave her a sharp glance.
Hey, that wasn’t necessary! I’m not a goddamn politician, for god’s sakes.

“It wasn’t sudden at all. It’s been two years in the making. I’m just announcing it today.”

“Is it final? Will you be making a comeback sometime in the future, like a Michael Jordan?”

Michael Jordan and movies?
Wolf thought.
What a cracko analogy!

“No,” he answered curtly. The still cameras had begun to flash hectically again.