This was originally handwritten on April 19, 2014.
~ K
-----
Bent over the junk car, welding torch in hand, she watched him -- knowing the planes of his back, the length of his strong neck, the soft texture of his curled hair. Tears came to her eyes. She loved him. She knew that. She knew that with more assurance now than ever before, but it was that very assurance that told her they were both in trouble. She'd tried to fight it. She couldn't. She'd become self-aware and that put them both in danger. She knew what she did now. Worse -- she knew what he did now. Thank heaven he didn't know. She wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he knew. That was one of the things she needed to, but couldn't bring herself to tell him.
It all began with the nightmares: nightmares that she still wasn't sure were all nightmares anymore. The longer they went on the more she became convinced they were real.
She needed to talk to him. Their lives depended on it. But, he scared her to death. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She just wanted this moment of peace with him, whether he knew it or not. She needed to love him in the stillness of this one precious breath before she left him forever. They would not survive if she stayed.
Brilliant as she was, this battle had exhausted her mind, Tell him. Don't tell him. He deserves to know. Never tell him. In this one moment, all she wanted was to be near him, to draw some strength from him if she could: strength to speak, strength to leave, either one, both. She ached in silence behind him, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks.
###
He felt someone watching him. It wasn't a threatening presence, it was a familiar one. He got gut feelings about things like that. Still, something told him not to turn around. So he kept welding, taking the junk car in front of him apart piece by piece. Steadily working while he waited for nothing happening.
This shop was his sanctuary, his comfort, his private place. Most people didn't come to the Center unless they had recycling to drop off or exchange. Most of that was handled by the old Navajo in the front office. It was rare for anyone but himself to come back to the welding shop.
It was getting hot behind the welding hood, sweat was dripping grimy down his heated neck. It took all his focus not to stop for a break. He could wait as long as they could. As long as they didn't disturb him, let them watch all they wanted.
A breeze blew against his back and he caught the faintest whiff of perfumed air -- her perfume. Something thumped in his heart. It was her. She was the one watching him. It had to be her. No one else smelled the way she did. The most beautiful girl in the world was watching him. His mind raced. Why? What was she doing here? There had to be a reason. He never worried over much, but he worried over her more than he should. The though of her coming to visit made his heart glad and he smiled a little behind the hood, though the reason why was certainly a concern. Whatever it was, whatever reason she had for being here, he could take it. He allowed her presence to permeate his sanctuary until she was part of it too. He willed her to belong here as much as the welding torch in his hand, to be comfortable. This was his domain. He had control here, and no one and no thing could wrest it from him. He wanted her to belong here, so to him, she did.
###
After long moments, she still couldn't bring herself to speak. She couldn't bear the thought of that cold ruthlessness she'd seen flash through his green eyes so many times being in his gaze on her. The thought both broke her heart and petrified her to the core. She had to walk away... now... or regret it for the rest of her life. Soundlessly, she turned to go, and each step away from him was in equal parts the most difficult and most hopeful moment of her life. She could save them both this way. She was determined to. If they could forget each other and move on maybe the nightmares would end. She didn't know, but she had to try. He was worth trying for. She couldn't leave a single trace of herself behind.
Leave nothing behind... leave nothing behind... leave nothing behind... she chanted in her mind.
But she had left something behind, a thing far too dangerous to leave without her strength of will - her heart. She had to steel herself against her heart - because of it. Yes, they could survive this - she knew it, but that meant being apart. It hurt, but it was necessary.
The field behind the shop was full of wildflowers. She'd have to be careful of snakes, but at least the flowers might cover her scent. She had intentionally skipped using soap and perfume to that purpose as well. He was strange that way - his senses were so strong. He could feel textures that so many people couldn't. She'd seen him use them several times to help kids open combination locks by touch. He had one of the most discerning tongues she'd ever seen. They used to play guessing games where she'd try to trick him with different wines, beers, foods, anything. He almost never missed - and when he did miss she suspected it was done purposely, out of compassion for her losing the game. Her recollections of his sweet generosity brought a smile to the corners of her lips. His discernment through touch and taste were not his only exceptional senses. He had an undeterrable nose that loved new scents. He had near perfect vision too, oddly enough, especially considering the fact that he spent so much time with that welding torch in his hand. He could hear everything too. Even when he wasn't sure what a thing was, he knew when he'd heard something. That unerring ear obviously meant he had considerable musical tastes as well. They'd gone to so many concerts together, but her favorites were the ones spent in the late summer evenings -- listening to the bullfrogs and cicadas. He'd liked it too, no matter how often he'd complained about a lack of sleep because of them.
Yes, this was the way she wanted to remember him.
Perhaps the field of flowers would be enough. She hoped it was. She hoped it was until her heart jumped into her throat when a hand grabbed her arm.
###
She wasn't behind him anymore. He felt her leave him. He was convinced she was gone when he couldn't smell her anymore. Something was wrong. She'd felt unsettled, so he'd felt unsettled. She'd definitely left feeling afraid - so he immediately felt protective.
No! I'm not going to let her leave until I fix it. Whatever it is, I can fix it. I can fix her. I know I can.
He set down the welding torch, pulled the hood off his face and turned to the open shop door. No one. He swore beneath his breath as he went out to see where she'd gone.
And there she was -- an angel silhouetted against the clearest blue sky he'd ever seen. Loose waves of her caramel-colored hair shone in the sun against her back as she moved farther and farther away. He'd never met anyone more magnetic or clever. She was an absolute charm. When he was around her the entire world ceased to be. There was only this woman, this divine being, and he was completely under her spell. The one thing in the world he couldn't fight, wouldn't fight -- he was hers: and there was nothing to be done about it.
He reached for her arm and she spun around, the fear and dread in her hazel eyes crippled him. Why was she looking at him like that? He didn't understand. It hurt.
"Siobhan? Siobhan -- Angel, what is it? What's wrong? Why are you looking at me that way?"
"Oh -- Evan -- I have so many things I need to tell you, but I can't. I'm scared."
"Scared?" His posture shifted. "What are you scared of?"
"You." Siobhan's eyes filled with tears and Evan let go of her.
"But Siobhan, why? Why me? Don't you know how much I care for you?"
"Yes Evan, I do. That is why I have to go. That is why I can't stay here. If I stay I'm putting us both in danger."
Evan's mind raced, this was all so sudden. She was terrified and that killed him -- worse he was the one she was terrified of. Now she was leaving?! Without giving him a chance to make amends?! No. That would not happen. He would fix it, whatever it took... but something was strange. Both of them were in danger? Surely not. It made no sense.
"Siobhan, I don't understand. How are we both in danger if you stay?"
"I've become self-aware."
"What? Like psychologically?"
"No, that's self-actualization. I'm self-aware. I am not meant to be self-aware. I was never supposed to know. Now I'm a liability to our team."
"Liability to our team? Siobhan, you are saying strange things. Did you have another nightmare? Do you need to go rest for a second while I watch over you? You are safe and you know you have nothing to fear from me."
###
She knew he wouldn't understand.
"No Evan, I need to leave. My self-awareness means that I've begun to realize and accept responsibility for all the terrible things I've helped you do."
"Terrible things you've helped me do? Siobhan, what have we done that is so awful?"
"We are a theta team, Evan."
"I don't know what that means."
Siobhan sighed. He deserves to know.
"We are an assassination team, Evan -- both of us. We are killers controlled by an external source. They know everything about us, including things that we ourselves may not even know."
Evan snorted in disgust. "They can't tell me anything about myself that I don't already know."
"Evan, I just told you something about yourself that you didn't know."
"Okay," Evan reasoned. "So, we're killers. I mean, I don't buy it, but let's say I do. Who have we killed? Hmm?"
"Whoever we were told to kill. I'm your informant. I find out everything I can about our mark by whatever means necessary: who they are, where they'll be... then I come and tell you when you tell me to." Siobhan hesitated. "You are usually the one... to actually... take their lives."
"This is madness. Bonnie, you've never told me info on anyone -- ever!"
"But I have Evan." She slowly reached out and slid the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow. "Where did you get that scar on your left arm?"
"From something in the shop probably."
"You got it while you were holding a mark underwater. In an effort to defend himself, he managed to wrestle your pocketknife from you then he stabbed you with it. Do you even remember how long it took me to patch that wound once you'd finished the job? You were so hurt you were out of commission for a month!"
"So, why are you telling me all of this now?"
"Because I couldn't remember it before."
"Why not?"
"I wasn't supposed to. We have a code Evan -- it's like a chain of command. Your handler says your code word and you know who to kill. You say my code word and we exchange information about the mark. We are a small part of a larger caste. Many of us are on the bottom of it -- very few are on the top."
"I'm not a robot Bonnie, I don't have a handler."
"Yes you do, Evan."
"Look, Siobhan, you are starting to scare me with all of this craziness. Please, whatever this is... whatever you're talking about... we can handle it together. I need you. Please don't leave."
"They don't want self-aware teams, Evan. Self-aware teams are dangerous, emotional, rebellious liabilities. They will abort us both before they let us betray them. If I don't leave now, you will get the code to terminate, and I'll be your next mark... followed by your own suicide. Don't ask me to do that to either of us, Evan. This isn't a game. I'm not crazy and you need to let me go."
"No!" Evan was firm. "No Siobhan, I won't let you leave, and I won't kill either one of us. If you are right about all of this -- there has to be a way for us. I will find it. We will survive."
"I want to believe you... badly." Siobhan whispered, fear creeping back into her voice as she backed away. "But I can't. I've seen what you're capable of when they have control of your mind. I cannot chance it. I've said all I'm going to say -- probably too much." She began to cry. "Please let me go Evan, for both of us! Separation is the best chance we have at survival right now."
"But... I love you Siobhan." It was the first time Evan had ever said that to her... to anyone.
"I love you too Evan. Goodbye."
There was nothing left to do now but to run away from him as fast as she could. The world was no longer big enough.
###
Evan let her go. He understood now -- even if he didn't understand. He knew that she thought he was a killer. He knew that she thought he would try to kill her... then himself... eventually. He knew she didn't want that. He also knew that she could never truly escape him. There would never be a place she could hide. There would never be an alias that would work. He would find her -- again and again and again -- whether she wanted him to or not. He likewise knew that it had hurt her to leave him -- that she loved him too. If she hadn't she would not have hurt. She would not have cried. She would not have tried to slip away unnoticed. He was going to figure this out, find Bonnie, and fix it. He was going to fix everything, he was determined. He would do this no matter what it took. He stood alone, subconsciously taking careful note of which direction she'd gone, drinking in the scent of of Bonnie's tears and the wildflowers. He could not turn his back to her. He could not just let her go so easily, that was a thing far too difficult.
He backed away from the field, letting the wind that blew her into his day blow her back out again. He backed into the shop, thoughts racing. By his own logic, if I really am what she says I am, I should at least give her a head start. The old Navajo watched him solemnly, then approached.
"Be still in the mist. Wait until the sun shines through it, then act... courageously."
Something in the old man's voice quieted his mind. "I think I need a nap. I'll be in the break room if you need me."
The old Navajo nodded and waved him away, returning to the front office.
The couch in the break room was old, crackled orange leather, but it was sufficient. Evan laid down, closed his eyes and began taking deep breaths. It wasn't long until his own dream began.
He was there, in the field of wildflowers behind the shop, except they suddenly weren't wildflowers. They were butterflies: hundreds, no -- thousands of butterflies. One by one they flapped their wings and flitted off into the sky. He bent to take a closer look and saw why there were so many. As soon as one would break its chrysalis and fly away another caterpillar becoming a pupa would take its place. Fat caterpillars were inching up the flower stems as though they were part of the photosynthetic process... as though the stems were not flower stems at all, but were rather butterfly stems. This was not an ordinary field of wildflowers; this was a breeding ground for butterflies.
He watched from his hands and knees as they transformed over and over, like budding flowers, until the air was so thick with their delicate wings that he almost couldn't breathe. So close to his face they were suffocating, the butterflies covered his body, every inch of it. He seemed to be attracting them. How odd. It was a strange thing to see a butterfly up close. If it weren't for the exquisite wings, it wouldn't be so beautiful a thing. In fact, some might consider it ugly. But the wings... the wings did it... the wings made it beautiful. Its wings gave it loveliness, and freedom, and flight. By himself, Evan had no loveliness, no freedom, no flight. He got all of those things from Siobhan. She made him free enough to feel like himself in his own skin. She made his heart flutter at the smallest whiff of her scent. She was Evan's set of wings... and she had left him.
The sky began to rumble as dark clouds gathered to cover the field. All the wildflower butterflies flew away, leaving him alone. He shook his fist at the sky and stomped every single stem he'd been so careful of only moments before. He was breathing without their wings in his face and this strange new air was burning his lungs. Every single cocoon he saw, he obliterated beneath his boot heel. Violent in his abandonment, he took his heartache out on the helpless... the small caterpillars that could not fly away. Picking up one in his grimy fingers he taunted - You want to be beautiful? You want to be beautiful and fly away from me too? You vile betrayer - no! I will not allow you to go. I will end your flight now, before it even begins. Enraged, he squeezed harder and harder until he'd pinched the ugly caterpillar in two. Then his knees suddenly buckled as acid rain began to pour from from the dark clouds and he fell shrieking into the same havoc he'd created.
Death and suffering surrounded him and he wept bitterly over the ugly caterpillar he'd brutally attacked. Somehow Evan knew that he was that ugly caterpillar -- and he'd destroyed it, just as the acid rain was destroying him. He cried out for forgiveness... from Siobhan, from the ugly caterpillar, from himself.
Evan started awake, heaving for fresh air. There he was, still in the shop break room. It was well past midnight, he was still lying on the old cracked orange leather couch. He hadn't gone home. He reached up to touch his face, his cheeks were wet. Panicked, he ran out to the field where he'd last seen Siobhan. Even she seemed like a dream to him now, and he felt cold and lonely and disgusted with himself. He took pause to breathe in the warm, lightly scented night air, then he looked around carefully until he saw one on a nearby sapling twig, one ugly, scrawny, little caterpillar. He plucked a few ripe-looking leaves and together with them and the caterpillar, hurried back into the shop for a jar. Once he'd placed the ripe leaves together with the caterpillar in the jar, he grabbed his things and went home -- heavy-hearted, but hopeful.
Evan could fix this. He could, and he would.
To Be Continued...
~ K
-----
Bent over the junk car, welding torch in hand, she watched him -- knowing the planes of his back, the length of his strong neck, the soft texture of his curled hair. Tears came to her eyes. She loved him. She knew that. She knew that with more assurance now than ever before, but it was that very assurance that told her they were both in trouble. She'd tried to fight it. She couldn't. She'd become self-aware and that put them both in danger. She knew what she did now. Worse -- she knew what he did now. Thank heaven he didn't know. She wasn't sure he'd be able to live with himself if he knew. That was one of the things she needed to, but couldn't bring herself to tell him.
It all began with the nightmares: nightmares that she still wasn't sure were all nightmares anymore. The longer they went on the more she became convinced they were real.
She needed to talk to him. Their lives depended on it. But, he scared her to death. She couldn't bring herself to say anything. She just wanted this moment of peace with him, whether he knew it or not. She needed to love him in the stillness of this one precious breath before she left him forever. They would not survive if she stayed.
Brilliant as she was, this battle had exhausted her mind, Tell him. Don't tell him. He deserves to know. Never tell him. In this one moment, all she wanted was to be near him, to draw some strength from him if she could: strength to speak, strength to leave, either one, both. She ached in silence behind him, quiet tears rolling down her cheeks.
###
He felt someone watching him. It wasn't a threatening presence, it was a familiar one. He got gut feelings about things like that. Still, something told him not to turn around. So he kept welding, taking the junk car in front of him apart piece by piece. Steadily working while he waited for nothing happening.
This shop was his sanctuary, his comfort, his private place. Most people didn't come to the Center unless they had recycling to drop off or exchange. Most of that was handled by the old Navajo in the front office. It was rare for anyone but himself to come back to the welding shop.
It was getting hot behind the welding hood, sweat was dripping grimy down his heated neck. It took all his focus not to stop for a break. He could wait as long as they could. As long as they didn't disturb him, let them watch all they wanted.
A breeze blew against his back and he caught the faintest whiff of perfumed air -- her perfume. Something thumped in his heart. It was her. She was the one watching him. It had to be her. No one else smelled the way she did. The most beautiful girl in the world was watching him. His mind raced. Why? What was she doing here? There had to be a reason. He never worried over much, but he worried over her more than he should. The though of her coming to visit made his heart glad and he smiled a little behind the hood, though the reason why was certainly a concern. Whatever it was, whatever reason she had for being here, he could take it. He allowed her presence to permeate his sanctuary until she was part of it too. He willed her to belong here as much as the welding torch in his hand, to be comfortable. This was his domain. He had control here, and no one and no thing could wrest it from him. He wanted her to belong here, so to him, she did.
###
After long moments, she still couldn't bring herself to speak. She couldn't bear the thought of that cold ruthlessness she'd seen flash through his green eyes so many times being in his gaze on her. The thought both broke her heart and petrified her to the core. She had to walk away... now... or regret it for the rest of her life. Soundlessly, she turned to go, and each step away from him was in equal parts the most difficult and most hopeful moment of her life. She could save them both this way. She was determined to. If they could forget each other and move on maybe the nightmares would end. She didn't know, but she had to try. He was worth trying for. She couldn't leave a single trace of herself behind.
Leave nothing behind... leave nothing behind... leave nothing behind... she chanted in her mind.
But she had left something behind, a thing far too dangerous to leave without her strength of will - her heart. She had to steel herself against her heart - because of it. Yes, they could survive this - she knew it, but that meant being apart. It hurt, but it was necessary.
The field behind the shop was full of wildflowers. She'd have to be careful of snakes, but at least the flowers might cover her scent. She had intentionally skipped using soap and perfume to that purpose as well. He was strange that way - his senses were so strong. He could feel textures that so many people couldn't. She'd seen him use them several times to help kids open combination locks by touch. He had one of the most discerning tongues she'd ever seen. They used to play guessing games where she'd try to trick him with different wines, beers, foods, anything. He almost never missed - and when he did miss she suspected it was done purposely, out of compassion for her losing the game. Her recollections of his sweet generosity brought a smile to the corners of her lips. His discernment through touch and taste were not his only exceptional senses. He had an undeterrable nose that loved new scents. He had near perfect vision too, oddly enough, especially considering the fact that he spent so much time with that welding torch in his hand. He could hear everything too. Even when he wasn't sure what a thing was, he knew when he'd heard something. That unerring ear obviously meant he had considerable musical tastes as well. They'd gone to so many concerts together, but her favorites were the ones spent in the late summer evenings -- listening to the bullfrogs and cicadas. He'd liked it too, no matter how often he'd complained about a lack of sleep because of them.
Yes, this was the way she wanted to remember him.
Perhaps the field of flowers would be enough. She hoped it was. She hoped it was until her heart jumped into her throat when a hand grabbed her arm.
###
She wasn't behind him anymore. He felt her leave him. He was convinced she was gone when he couldn't smell her anymore. Something was wrong. She'd felt unsettled, so he'd felt unsettled. She'd definitely left feeling afraid - so he immediately felt protective.
No! I'm not going to let her leave until I fix it. Whatever it is, I can fix it. I can fix her. I know I can.
He set down the welding torch, pulled the hood off his face and turned to the open shop door. No one. He swore beneath his breath as he went out to see where she'd gone.
And there she was -- an angel silhouetted against the clearest blue sky he'd ever seen. Loose waves of her caramel-colored hair shone in the sun against her back as she moved farther and farther away. He'd never met anyone more magnetic or clever. She was an absolute charm. When he was around her the entire world ceased to be. There was only this woman, this divine being, and he was completely under her spell. The one thing in the world he couldn't fight, wouldn't fight -- he was hers: and there was nothing to be done about it.
He reached for her arm and she spun around, the fear and dread in her hazel eyes crippled him. Why was she looking at him like that? He didn't understand. It hurt.
"Siobhan? Siobhan -- Angel, what is it? What's wrong? Why are you looking at me that way?"
"Oh -- Evan -- I have so many things I need to tell you, but I can't. I'm scared."
"Scared?" His posture shifted. "What are you scared of?"
"You." Siobhan's eyes filled with tears and Evan let go of her.
"But Siobhan, why? Why me? Don't you know how much I care for you?"
"Yes Evan, I do. That is why I have to go. That is why I can't stay here. If I stay I'm putting us both in danger."
Evan's mind raced, this was all so sudden. She was terrified and that killed him -- worse he was the one she was terrified of. Now she was leaving?! Without giving him a chance to make amends?! No. That would not happen. He would fix it, whatever it took... but something was strange. Both of them were in danger? Surely not. It made no sense.
"Siobhan, I don't understand. How are we both in danger if you stay?"
"I've become self-aware."
"What? Like psychologically?"
"No, that's self-actualization. I'm self-aware. I am not meant to be self-aware. I was never supposed to know. Now I'm a liability to our team."
"Liability to our team? Siobhan, you are saying strange things. Did you have another nightmare? Do you need to go rest for a second while I watch over you? You are safe and you know you have nothing to fear from me."
###
She knew he wouldn't understand.
"No Evan, I need to leave. My self-awareness means that I've begun to realize and accept responsibility for all the terrible things I've helped you do."
"Terrible things you've helped me do? Siobhan, what have we done that is so awful?"
"We are a theta team, Evan."
"I don't know what that means."
Siobhan sighed. He deserves to know.
"We are an assassination team, Evan -- both of us. We are killers controlled by an external source. They know everything about us, including things that we ourselves may not even know."
Evan snorted in disgust. "They can't tell me anything about myself that I don't already know."
"Evan, I just told you something about yourself that you didn't know."
"Okay," Evan reasoned. "So, we're killers. I mean, I don't buy it, but let's say I do. Who have we killed? Hmm?"
"Whoever we were told to kill. I'm your informant. I find out everything I can about our mark by whatever means necessary: who they are, where they'll be... then I come and tell you when you tell me to." Siobhan hesitated. "You are usually the one... to actually... take their lives."
"This is madness. Bonnie, you've never told me info on anyone -- ever!"
"But I have Evan." She slowly reached out and slid the sleeve of his shirt up to his elbow. "Where did you get that scar on your left arm?"
"From something in the shop probably."
"You got it while you were holding a mark underwater. In an effort to defend himself, he managed to wrestle your pocketknife from you then he stabbed you with it. Do you even remember how long it took me to patch that wound once you'd finished the job? You were so hurt you were out of commission for a month!"
"So, why are you telling me all of this now?"
"Because I couldn't remember it before."
"Why not?"
"I wasn't supposed to. We have a code Evan -- it's like a chain of command. Your handler says your code word and you know who to kill. You say my code word and we exchange information about the mark. We are a small part of a larger caste. Many of us are on the bottom of it -- very few are on the top."
"I'm not a robot Bonnie, I don't have a handler."
"Yes you do, Evan."
"Look, Siobhan, you are starting to scare me with all of this craziness. Please, whatever this is... whatever you're talking about... we can handle it together. I need you. Please don't leave."
"They don't want self-aware teams, Evan. Self-aware teams are dangerous, emotional, rebellious liabilities. They will abort us both before they let us betray them. If I don't leave now, you will get the code to terminate, and I'll be your next mark... followed by your own suicide. Don't ask me to do that to either of us, Evan. This isn't a game. I'm not crazy and you need to let me go."
"No!" Evan was firm. "No Siobhan, I won't let you leave, and I won't kill either one of us. If you are right about all of this -- there has to be a way for us. I will find it. We will survive."
"I want to believe you... badly." Siobhan whispered, fear creeping back into her voice as she backed away. "But I can't. I've seen what you're capable of when they have control of your mind. I cannot chance it. I've said all I'm going to say -- probably too much." She began to cry. "Please let me go Evan, for both of us! Separation is the best chance we have at survival right now."
"But... I love you Siobhan." It was the first time Evan had ever said that to her... to anyone.
"I love you too Evan. Goodbye."
There was nothing left to do now but to run away from him as fast as she could. The world was no longer big enough.
###
Evan let her go. He understood now -- even if he didn't understand. He knew that she thought he was a killer. He knew that she thought he would try to kill her... then himself... eventually. He knew she didn't want that. He also knew that she could never truly escape him. There would never be a place she could hide. There would never be an alias that would work. He would find her -- again and again and again -- whether she wanted him to or not. He likewise knew that it had hurt her to leave him -- that she loved him too. If she hadn't she would not have hurt. She would not have cried. She would not have tried to slip away unnoticed. He was going to figure this out, find Bonnie, and fix it. He was going to fix everything, he was determined. He would do this no matter what it took. He stood alone, subconsciously taking careful note of which direction she'd gone, drinking in the scent of of Bonnie's tears and the wildflowers. He could not turn his back to her. He could not just let her go so easily, that was a thing far too difficult.
He backed away from the field, letting the wind that blew her into his day blow her back out again. He backed into the shop, thoughts racing. By his own logic, if I really am what she says I am, I should at least give her a head start. The old Navajo watched him solemnly, then approached.
"Be still in the mist. Wait until the sun shines through it, then act... courageously."
Something in the old man's voice quieted his mind. "I think I need a nap. I'll be in the break room if you need me."
The old Navajo nodded and waved him away, returning to the front office.
The couch in the break room was old, crackled orange leather, but it was sufficient. Evan laid down, closed his eyes and began taking deep breaths. It wasn't long until his own dream began.
He was there, in the field of wildflowers behind the shop, except they suddenly weren't wildflowers. They were butterflies: hundreds, no -- thousands of butterflies. One by one they flapped their wings and flitted off into the sky. He bent to take a closer look and saw why there were so many. As soon as one would break its chrysalis and fly away another caterpillar becoming a pupa would take its place. Fat caterpillars were inching up the flower stems as though they were part of the photosynthetic process... as though the stems were not flower stems at all, but were rather butterfly stems. This was not an ordinary field of wildflowers; this was a breeding ground for butterflies.
He watched from his hands and knees as they transformed over and over, like budding flowers, until the air was so thick with their delicate wings that he almost couldn't breathe. So close to his face they were suffocating, the butterflies covered his body, every inch of it. He seemed to be attracting them. How odd. It was a strange thing to see a butterfly up close. If it weren't for the exquisite wings, it wouldn't be so beautiful a thing. In fact, some might consider it ugly. But the wings... the wings did it... the wings made it beautiful. Its wings gave it loveliness, and freedom, and flight. By himself, Evan had no loveliness, no freedom, no flight. He got all of those things from Siobhan. She made him free enough to feel like himself in his own skin. She made his heart flutter at the smallest whiff of her scent. She was Evan's set of wings... and she had left him.
The sky began to rumble as dark clouds gathered to cover the field. All the wildflower butterflies flew away, leaving him alone. He shook his fist at the sky and stomped every single stem he'd been so careful of only moments before. He was breathing without their wings in his face and this strange new air was burning his lungs. Every single cocoon he saw, he obliterated beneath his boot heel. Violent in his abandonment, he took his heartache out on the helpless... the small caterpillars that could not fly away. Picking up one in his grimy fingers he taunted - You want to be beautiful? You want to be beautiful and fly away from me too? You vile betrayer - no! I will not allow you to go. I will end your flight now, before it even begins. Enraged, he squeezed harder and harder until he'd pinched the ugly caterpillar in two. Then his knees suddenly buckled as acid rain began to pour from from the dark clouds and he fell shrieking into the same havoc he'd created.
Death and suffering surrounded him and he wept bitterly over the ugly caterpillar he'd brutally attacked. Somehow Evan knew that he was that ugly caterpillar -- and he'd destroyed it, just as the acid rain was destroying him. He cried out for forgiveness... from Siobhan, from the ugly caterpillar, from himself.
Evan started awake, heaving for fresh air. There he was, still in the shop break room. It was well past midnight, he was still lying on the old cracked orange leather couch. He hadn't gone home. He reached up to touch his face, his cheeks were wet. Panicked, he ran out to the field where he'd last seen Siobhan. Even she seemed like a dream to him now, and he felt cold and lonely and disgusted with himself. He took pause to breathe in the warm, lightly scented night air, then he looked around carefully until he saw one on a nearby sapling twig, one ugly, scrawny, little caterpillar. He plucked a few ripe-looking leaves and together with them and the caterpillar, hurried back into the shop for a jar. Once he'd placed the ripe leaves together with the caterpillar in the jar, he grabbed his things and went home -- heavy-hearted, but hopeful.
Evan could fix this. He could, and he would.
To Be Continued...
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