The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (11 page)

What was not ridiculous, however, was the change that had come over Wolf over the past few weeks. There was a permanent spark in his eyes...he had begun to live again.

He saw Wolf pick Robin up in his arms and raise her high above his head, like some doll. The girl began to scream and flail, but Wolf was merciless as he flung her down with a splash. For a moment, she disappeared under the water and Grant was up on his feet, his heart in his mouth. But Wolf knew what he was doing—the girl broke surface in a jiffy and she was coughing and laughing and punching Wolf on the chest.

“You...you...” Then, “Again...again...one more time...one more time, pleaseeeee...!” she pleaded.

Grant exhaled and shook his head. He put a hand over his chest. He felt light in the heart for the first time in two years.
My boy is well and truly back.

And yet, in a weird way, Grant also felt rueful...his son no longer needed him exclusively. He felt as if a very important part of him was being snatched away. With a little sigh, he turned around. He didn’t want to leave here—this was such thorough delectation, watching these two in the pool. But he had a meeting to attend, and as the President of the nation, he saw to it that he performed his duties to the best of his capabilities.

.

I
t was an hour before man and kid quit the swimming pool. Robin didn’t want to come out, but it was getting late and Wolf had to be seeing her back to the Home.

“Did you enjoy yourself, Sweets?” Wolf asked as Robin began to dress up.

“Yes, so much. Thank you.”

He looked at her. “You don’t have to say
thank you,
you know.”

“But I must.”

“Why must you?”

“Sister Toynette says so.”

“And she is right. But to some people, like me, you don’t need to say it.”

She looked at him thoughtfully, then nodded. “Yes.”

She was unusually quiet on the way back to the Home.

Wolf put a hand on her shoulder. “You okay, Robin?”

She bit her lip, but nodded.

“Okay,” Wolf said.

And for a while there was silence.

Then to ease the somber mood, Wolf tried to make small talk.

“What’s your favorite food, Robin?”

“Uh?” She seemed rather surprised by the question-from-nowhere. She hesitated for a while, then eventually said, “Pudding.”

“And your favorite animal?”

She glanced at him. Where was all this coming from? But again she finally answered, “Tiger.”

“Ah, I love tigers too. They’re my favorite as well. They’re so big and handsome and powerful and lissome, aren’t they?” Wolf said, simulating joviality.

“Yes,” she said, listlessly staring out the windscreen.

“And your favorite bird?”

“Butterfly,” she said promptly, suddenly showing some animation. “I just love butterflies. They are the most beautiful creatures in the whole world.”

That amazed Wolf. The butterfly was Philippa’s all-time favorite too.
More likeness,
he thought.
Mind-boggling!

“But the butterfly is an insect, not a bird,” he corrected her.

“But it flies, yes? So it’s a bird,” she insisted.

Wolf laughed. “Okay, if you say so.”

“Yes.”

And again they fell into silence.

It was only when the large edifices of the Home came into view that the hush was breached once more.

It was Robin this time. “I want to…” she said, so faintly Wolf almost didn’t catch it.

“You said something, Robin?”

“I want to be...” she said, fidgeting with her clothing, not looking at him, her chin on her chest.

“You want to be? What, baby?”

“Your daughter...”

Wolf pulled over. He turned to her. “Really?”

“If you want me…” There was tremor in her voice and her eyes were almost closed, her head still hanging.

Wolf swallowed. “There is nothing more I want in the whole wide world,” he said. “Come here.” And he took her in his arms and hugged her tight to him.

“Can I call you Daddy then?” Her voice rang in his ears.

“Absolutely. ... And may I call you Butterfly?”

“Why?”

“Because, like you said, the butterfly is the most beautiful creature in the world. Just like you are.”

“Really?”

“Oh, yes. You are truly the most beautiful and wonderful person in the whole universe,” he said, pressing her head to his chest. “So may I call you Butterfly then?”

“Yes, if you want to.”

“Thank you so much.”

Later, one day, she asked him, “If I am your daughter, why don’t I live with you?”

“You will, very soon,” he had said earnestly.

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

“Thank you.”

But it wasn’t that simple, Wolf quickly realized. Although Grant was wholly supportive (as was the rest of the family, especially Art), he elucidated some practical truths to Wolf.

“For one, son, the law is very clear on this: a single male cannot adopt a girl child. Even I, with all the powers at my command, cannot bend this rule. And even if I could it would not be ethical. But much more importantly, you must understand that parenting is a full-time job. As much as you may love Robin, as much as you are good for her, when it comes to a full-blown relationship, the stakes are entirely different. Let me be honest: you do not have the relevant skills, or the experience, to be an efficient parent by yourself. So for your sake, but even more for the girl’s sake, it is imperative you find yourself a good woman first and get married. Then the two of you can raise Robin well. Robin needs a father, true, but she needs a mother equally.”

Desperate as he was, Wolf appreciated Grant’s reasoning. As much as he didn’t want to agree to it, it was faultless.

And then, just fortuitously, he had met this woman on the Internet and it had seemed like a match made by the deities. Suddenly, it had all clacked together—all his dreams coming true in a classic ballet.

Before...it all exploded in his face.

*

Y
et now, on this Saturday, March 29th, he had Robin with him once again and he was soothed. She was all that mattered. And one day, his daughter would come home to him.
Oh, yes, she will! Don’t kids go off to boarding school?

What bugged him, though, was that she couldn’t stay with him overnight. Thanks to the Butcher family influence, and especially on Art Butcher’s insistence, some rules had been compromised. But within reason. Wolf had to return Robin latest by eight pm.

“I’m tired,” Robin sat back and stretched herself and yawned. They had been on the computer for a zillion hours, breaking only for lunch. It was nearing six pm.

“So what next?” he asked. “Oh, I know.”

“Uh?” She began rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand.

Wolf pulled her hand away. “Don’t do that—you’ll make them red. ... Go get your costume.”

She couldn’t stay with him for good; she couldn’t stay with him overnight. That didn’t mean she couldn’t have her own closet in his room.

Dad and daughter slunk into the water and as Robin began swimming the length of the pool, Wolf trailed her. He had taught her to swim on one side, pedaling with her left arm. Wolf now suddenly ducked beneath the surface, then came up with the girl high above his head. And she shrieked and thrashed and it was business as usual...

.

D
inner over, back in Wolf’s room, it was time for Robin to be returned. There was sudden soberness in the air.

“Tomorrow you’ll come on time, yes?” Robin asked lowly.

“Morning eight sharp, I promise, Sweets. Ready to go?”

But she wasn’t. She didn’t want to leave. She loved this room. Oh, how she loved it. It was so big and so high. At least fifteen feet high, like the rest of the house. Her dorm was hardly nine; you could stand on the top bunk bed and touch the ceiling.

And look at the color of the walls in Dad’s room. So stunning!
—dazzling red and orange, alternate walls,
like some of those roses outside
. Even though he slept alone, the bed was a giant double-bed, where you could roll all you wanted and not fall off and she loved to do that. The mattress was so spongy—she could bounce on it, and she always did and Daddy never scolded her.
And look at the bedspread and pillow covers—Wow!
They were the design of a tiger’s skin, her favorite animal.
Not like my bed—it is so narrow and hard.
Then there was the rug that covered the floor—it was thick and filled the entire room and was lustrous black. She always walked barefoot on it—loved the tender feel of the soft fabric on her delicate soles.

Beside the cabinets on either side of the bed were cute gold lamp-shades, and attached to the cabinets were the wardrobe and other cupboards—three on each side. One of them was her cupboard. Behind the bed, uniting the two sections of cupboards, was her most favorite item of all: a giant picture of a butterfly. And what a beauty it was too! It was called the ‘Rhapsody Butterfly’ and its blaze of colors perfectly complemented the rest of the room. The wings had columns of different shades of red, orange and yellow, with fluorescent-green and brilliant-blue oval spots near the top. The rim of the wings was Vandyke brown, with Cambridge blue specks on it. Oh, she just couldn’t get enough of the dazzling thing.

Against the eastside wall of the bedroom were other paraphernalia: an 880 liter four-door refrigerator, a long writing desk, a music system, a bookshelf...

On the west side was a dressing table with a huge mirror, and how Robin loved to stand before it and stare at her full image. Back at the Home, all she could see was her face, and there wasn’t even a mirror in her dorm, only in the common washroom. On the northwest corner of the bedroom was the seating arrangement: a large settee, three upholstered arm chairs and a round glass-top table. A door near the main entrance of the room led to the washroom.

The north-side wall, across from the bed, had French windows, and this gave Robin a sweeping view of the back garden when the curtains were pulled back...especially, full sight of the waterfall and the pond.

But most of all, Robin loved the chill of the air-conditioner and insisted on it being turned on full blast whenever she was here, whatever the season. A giant LED screen stood on the northeast corner of the room.
Wow, what a television it is too—not like the one we have at the Home.
This one was like a movie screen and the picture just consumed you, as did the booming sound. Then there was the music system, whose speakers were so well distributed and hidden throughout the room that the voice seemed to come from every side. When the music played, Robin felt as if she had suddenly been transported to some paradise.

“I want to go for a pee, Daddy,” she said, raising her little finger at Wolf. She didn’t really feel like a pee, for she had gone just before dinner, but she was stalling for time.

She loved the washroom as well. It too was so large. She loved the big bathtub and the red tinged-with-white tiles that ran up the walls to the ceiling on all four sides. She could lie in the bath for hours, her head barely popping out of the water, just listening to soft music that she could turn on by merely extending her left arm and slapping a button. What excited her the most, however, was working up a heavy froth and then messing around with it.
Oh, what fun that is!
She also liked the various taps and valves—their glowing gold color with black trimmings. Oh, she loved everything here, just everything. So she did not want to go back to the Home. She wanted to stay here, sleep on Daddy’s lovely soft bed, watch an animated movie on the giant screen, then go to sleep in the cold of the air-conditioning, huddled up inside a fat, cozy blanket.

“One last game, Daddy?” she said hopefully when she came out. She looked at the framed animal pictures on the walls—the tigers, the elephants, the rhinos, the gorillas...
I really, really, really don’t want to go back...I want to stay here, Daddy, PLEASEEEEE!

Wolf checked his watch. Eight-ten pm. He looked at her, looked at her pleading face, and he shrugged.
What the hell!
After all, he had picked her up late too.

“Aren’t you tired yet?” he asked.

“Uh hu,” she shook her head firmly.

He smiled.
Of course, she’s tired—
her face spoke.

“I have ten minutes start, yes?” she said.

“Five!” he admonished. “And remember the rules—no hiding anywhere in the house, only in the garden. Last time you swindled me.”

“Yes, yes, I promise.”

Five minutes later, Wolf set out after her. He began at the front garden, checking behind every Christmas tree and palm bark, every rose shrub, alert for the slightest movement, only too aware of her ability of concealing herself behind a leaf, like some kitten. Fifteen minutes later, he was sure she wasn’t anywhere around the front and he went to the back garden. The same routine. But he didn’t find her here either. He could’ve of course inquired with the servants, but that would be cheating.