The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY (40 page)

“So when are you going to visit next?” she asked.

“I don’t know…but soon. I need to see her, for her sake and mine.”

“And you’ll be coming in the same manner?” she said, a slim smile coming to her lips.

“Is there any other way?”

“But it’s very dangerous, you realize?”

“Well, I have no other option. I’ll have to risk it.”

“The guard won’t be asleep every time,” she said doubtfully.

“I’ll manage…somehow.” His eyes narrowed a wee—there was something about her now. Her eyes were a bit too rampant on him.

“Like I told you, you don’t have to fret about Robin one bit. I’m there and I’ll look after her. I’ll see to it she eats well. What happened in the last few days won’t ever happen again. She won’t lack for anything now,” she said, with just a touch too much keenness.

Except for her parents—the only thing that really matters to her
, Wolf thought. He bowed his head. “Thank you, Sister Clara, thank you so much.”

“It’s nothing.” She paused for a second. “Can you give me your phone number? It’ll help me keep you posted about Robin. Here’s my number…give me a missed call and I’ll save it.” She rattled a number.

He punched in the digits.

“Thank you, Mr. Butcher. I’ll keep in touch.”

“Can you do me one more favor, Sister? Just one final one?”

“Yes?”

“Can you have Robin call me once a day?” That way, even if he couldn’t come for some reason, he could keep in touch with her.

She nodded immediately. “No problem. How about around ten-fifteen pm? That would be the safest time for you to talk with her undisturbed.”

“Perfect.”

“Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Butcher?” she asked eagerly.

Wolf smiled to himself knowingly. “No, thank you, Sister, you have been most kind.” Then suddenly his voice became soft silk—a Hollywood superstar’s voice, the type that had sent girls, and older women alike, the world over into fits of instant ecstasy. “Please call me Wolf, Sister.”

Color broke out on Sister Clara’s face. “But…but…only…if you call me Clara…and not Sister,” she stuttered.

“Sure,” he nodded with a sudden surge of confidence. He knew now that he had her in his pocket. “And now I must go.” He got to his feet. She came up to him. Again, he took her hand in both his and squeezed warmly. And on schedule, he felt her quiver. “Thank you so very much for everything, Clara. I’m truly, truly grateful,” he said, looking deep, deep into her eyes from barely six inches away.

“It’s…o…okay…” she stammered.

He drew back a step and gave her a dazzling smile, then gently let go of her hand. Then he turned around and left swiftly.

The guard was still dozing and as Wolf headed for the Home wall on the eastside, he knew he had secured it for Robin—that his baby would be taken care of now…that there was someone inside the Home who would be blindly working for him. As a result, there was a gladness in his chest. His superstardom had massive disadvantages—crippling ones. But once in a while, there were benefits. Great benefits.

Only later would he realize what a dreadful mistake he had made.

.

W
olf’s gladness did not last though. No sooner had he jumped the wall and got into his jeep, the anxiety returned. He had been so absorbed with Robin, Savannah had momentarily lapsed from his consciousness. Now the anguish hit him hard again.

He headed straight for Marina Park, his foot hard on the gas.

The house was padlocked as before. He was silent this time as he opened the lock with the spare key and went in.

It was dark and deserted as a cemetery. He thrashed some lights on and looked around, trying to find some clue that would give him some hint about Savannah’s whereabouts. He found her cellphone, lying on her bed, and grabbed it impatiently. And then he cursed aloud. It was password protected. He looked around for a phonebook, that would have given him Lianne’s number. But he didn’t find it.

Getting really desperate now, he turned the place upside down, throwing open cupboards and cabinets, rummaging through drawers, hunting under the bed mattress and the settee, shifting tables and chairs, the indoor plants and the table-lamps, even combing through the refrigerator and the washing machine and anything else he saw.

But nothing.

He even tried to poke into her laptop, but again, it was password protected.

Eventually, he ceased, realizing the futility of his endeavor. And then he reluctantly left, securing the house again, leaving it in a comprehensive mess.

You must go to the police now
. There was no other way.
They
must
know something
. He slumped in his seat in the car—so tired he was. Exhausted—bodily, mentally, emotionally…spiritually. He badly needed to lie down. But he knew he could not rest till he had found her…in whatever condition she might be in. He had to know one way or the other.

The Marina Park police claimed to know nothing. Yes, there had been a mob at Ms. Burns’s house this afternoon, but the police had rushed in and dispersed them. No, Ms. Burns hadn’t been at her home then—there had been a padlock on her door.

“Honestly, Mr. Butcher, we have no idea whatever,” the coppers concluded with finality.

“I want to file a Missing Person report,” Wolf said.

“Not before twenty-four hours have lapsed,” he was told and it was all too apparent to Wolf that they simply weren’t interested. He felt an awful anger snatch him, and he quickly turned his face away and somehow controlled himself. He couldn’t afford that luxury.

Finally, he decided he had to seek Dad’s help. Whatever their differences, this was a human question, it transcended everything else. Even as the President, he was obliged to help a citizen in strife.

As he headed home, he glanced at his watch. Three-fifty am. He missed Savannah so intensely and feared for her so much, he wanted to cry. But there were just no tears left in his heart anymore.

The streets were forlorn and as he took the bend to Butcher Street, someone suddenly appeared from the shadows of the footpath and put a hand out for him. Wolf passed the person, surprised that a homeless had been allowed to make the luxurious Salisbury Park (and Butcher Street at that) his open-air shelter. As far as he was aware, the authorities always kept the area free of vagrants. The car kept speeding relentlessly toward Butcher Garden. When Wolf glanced absently into the rear-view mirror he was startled to see the guy chasing him, waving frantically.

“Sweet shit!” he cursed under his breath and slammed on the brakes. His inherent nature had finally overtaken him. As he allowed the man to reach him, he fished out his wallet and peered into the contents. His finger touched a one dollar note and he almost pulled it out. Then he paused. He clicked his tongue and instead pulled out a hundred dollar bill. When the guy was so damn desperate to stay awake all night in search of a buck, and when Wolf had indeed stopped,
well, let me make it a little worthwhile for him.

He glanced into the mirror impatiently.
Come on, come on, hurry for god’s sakes!

The man reached him, breathing hard, and Wolf hastily lowered the window glass and stuck the currency out.

The person stared at the bill for a second, but didn’t touch it.

“Hey, don’t you want it?!” Wolf scowled, turning to the fellow.

And then his breath caught in his throat.

WOLF
held her tight to him, real tight.

He could feel her body shivering beneath her clothes. She was cold. And yet hot somewhere deep inside. He could feel it both, as she clung to him like some infant monkey to its mother, her fingers grabbing his back ardently. They were one flesh, one essence, as they rocked to and fro in pendulumic rhythm.

“Savannah,” he said softly, the word trembling on his tongue. It was the most beautiful word he had said in a long, long time. He wanted to say it again, and again and again, and never stop saying it. It thrilled his every fiber.

She muttered something, but her face was hidden in his shoulder and muffled the utterance. It didn’t matter. Words were the least important commodity right now. Right now nothing mattered, except that they were back together again.

He could feel her heart thumping against his ribs, the thuds loud and clear, as if they were knocking on the door of his soul. He could feel her hair against his face. It was smooth and silky and smelled of some gentle rose from Butcher Garden.

They stood like that clinging to each other until Time tired of keeping count…there, right there in the middle of Butcher Street.

When finally Savannah looked up her eyes shone palely and there was a distant sadness in them. A sadness of a lifetime of hurt. And yet a joy too—an infinite joy of being back with him. She continued holding him, looking deep into his eyes, as if gazing into his very core. There was such ineffable tenderness in his look. Then he lowered his face, and their lips clung together, washing away all the recent pain of separation.

It was only much later that they could speak.

“I was at Lianne’s,” she said.

They were in the back of Wolf’s jeep, now parked outside Salisbury Garden next to the ocean.

“Why didn’t you let me know? I was worried to death,” he said. There was no reproach in his voice, only deep concern.

“I tried to call you so many times, Wolf, from Lianne’s place...throughout the day. But your fixed line was constantly busy and your cellphone off.”

Yes, she was right. Not busy, but disconnected. And his cellphone even now lay discarded somewhere in his room, in Flight mode. It had been turned on briefly from time to time whenever he had tried to call her.

“But you could’ve called before you left your place this morning,” he said. “My phones weren’t off then.”

“I left in a tearing hurry, Wolf, as soon as I saw the newspaper. I didn’t even bathe…just stuffed some clothes and things and ran. I knew the mob would show up anytime. I was badly scared. My mind wasn’t working at all. In all the rush, I even forgot my cellphone at home.”

Wolf put an arm around her. “It doesn’t matter anymore.” Then he handed her her cellphone. “I raided your place.” And he briefly explained.

“Oh jeez…thanks!” she said half-sarcastically. Then she put her head on his shoulder. The ocean sang in the background, sweet and melodic and reassuring.

Eventually, Wolf asked, “How long were you waiting for me?”

“All evening. I arrived here around ten. I inquired at the gate and they told me you had left around an hour ago and they didn’t know anything else besides.” Suddenly hurt rode into her eyes. It lingered there barely a second, then was gone. But it was long enough for Wolf to snatch it.

“What’s it?” he demanded.

She shook her head.

“Hey, come on, don’t hide things from me!”

She pressed her lips. “Well…the way they were looking at me, those security guards…” she trailed off.

“Looking how?”

She breathed and looked away. “Like…like I was some filth.”

Blood rushed to Wolf’s head.
Even the motherfucking servants!

“Wolf, easy!” she said quickly. “There’s no point flying off the handle. That’s how everyone feels about me, that’s how the whole world sees me.”

His lips came off his teeth. “The whole fucking world is a rotten toilet! There’s nothing but fucking shit on this motherfucking planet.”

She put a hand on him. “Calm!” she said. “If you lose it, we have no hope.”

“We?”

“Robin and I.”

He took her in his arms again. “As long as I have the two of you, I’m okay,” he said. “I care two fucks about the rest of the human race.”

She kissed him on the right cheek, then a quick peck on the lips.

“So what next?” she asked…just as Robin had asked earlier this evening.

“I’m not sure yet. But I’m not going to sit around with my balls frozen. I’ll find an answer. There has to be some way out.” He looked out into the night. He could feel the salty taste of the ocean on his tongue. “How long are you going to stay at Lianne’s?”

“I don’t know. … Till society cools down, I guess.”

“Ha, that’s not going to happen in a hurry. The Press fucks are going to keep the pot boiling. They have a rich harvest after a very long time and they’re going to reap it for all its worth. It’ll keep the fucking planet entertained for a long, long time.”

A Hollywood Superstar, the President of the nation, a Whore, a little Girl = A Golden Harvest.

Suddenly he asked, “What work does Lianne do?”

Savannah looked away. Wolf understood.

“It’s okay, I’m not judging her,” he said. “But now that you’re staying with her tell her to quit. I’ll give her a check that’ll sustain her for the next year.”

“She has already stopped. … Some time back.”

“Oh? How does she manage then?”