These Butterflies

I sit on the curb, waiting for my ride to come.

5:25 P. M, displays on my phone’s screen. It shouldn’t take much longer before I’m picked up. I quickly slide the palm-sized mechanism into my back pocket when I notice my tutorial group passing through the main entrance of the school. I stand to wait until Connie’s close enough to approach her and ask how she’s doing, but that doesn’t happen. She turns in a different direction, towards the front of the school instead of the student parking lot. My eyes move ahead in the same way she’s heading, and that’s when I spot Connor leaning against his sporty black car. It looks like he’s looking in my direction, but I can’t tell for sure. He opens the door for Connie before going around to his side. I watch as they drive away.

I flop back onto the edge of the sidewalk in disappointment. Alex’s car comes into view a few minutes later. I gulp nervously. I wasn’t informed he’d be coming to get me. I get inside quietly, uncomfortable with the fact that we’re alone in such a confined space. We haven’t really been so secluded together since before I told him how I felt.

“Where’s mom?” I ask, because she was the one who was supposed to pick me up.

“She’s asleep. I didn’t want to wake her,” he responds.

“Oh.” I look down, then out the window.

“So, are you getting better at math?” he asks.

“Not really,” I respond honestly, a little ashamed.

After a few moments of silence, he says, “I know I’m not like, super good at math, but if you want I can try to help you a little.”

“Thanks,” I respond meekly.

From the corner of my eye, I see him turn to me and then suddenly turn away. I clench a nervous fist before facing him. When he takes note of this, he gives me a gentle smile. I relax and grin in return, feeling a spark of happiness flicker inside me. I then notice he’s wearing a new pair of jeans and an almost fancy blue plaid shirt. Everything’s ironed. I can tell he took a little extra time with his hair too. He straightened certain sections while leaving others perfectly, charmingly messy.

“Why are you all dressed up?” I ask.

My question seems to upset him. He glances at me for a moment and it looks like he regrets it. “It’s Melissa’s birthday. I’m taking her out.” He says this in monotone as his eyes narrow in on the street ahead. I shrink into my seat miserably. “I’ve been planning this for a while.” He almost sounds hesitant as he speaks. I look over to see him biting his bottom lip unsurely before continuing, and I don’t understand why he’s telling me this. “I’m excited to take her out to a nice restaurant for the first time. I got her a necklace… I really hope she likes it. I spend forever deciding what to-”

“Will you just stop?” I interrupt. “I don’t need to hear that.”

He sighs, like he was expecting my outburst. “She’s my girlfriend, Lani. You have to understand that whether you want to or not. I can’t just pretend around you.”

“I’m not asking you to pretend. I just don’t need you flaunting your relationship in front of me. It’s enough that you spend every waking second with her. I don’t need to hear about it.” My agitation increases with every word.

“Okay, fine. Enough. I answered your question and you didn’t like my response. You took my answer the wrong way. Let’s just move on.”

“No,” I respond, already upset. “You were trying to rub your girlfriend in my face.”

“I’m not rubbing anything in your face, Lani. She is my girlfriend, and you know that.”

“Yes, I know that and I know she means the world to you. I know you make love to her when you spend the night. You don’t even try to keep it to yourself.”

“Why should I?” he asks, exasperated. “And what does it matter to you if I’m making love to her? She’s my girlfriend. And yes, she does mean the world to me. I’m in love with her, not you.” Every sentence hits me harder than the last.

“Why?” I ask, desperate for an answer.

“What?”

“What does she have that I don’t have?” The pain can be heard in my voice, but I’ve learned that no matter how hard I try, I won’t be able to hide it.

“You have to understand that you and I can never be together like Melissa and I are. But Lani, you also have to know that I’ll always, always love you.” He says this tenderly, as if he’s talking to a child like he has so many times before and I’m tired of it. I don’t want him to see me as his little sister anymore.

“But you don’t love me in the same way.” My voice shakes as I say this. A burning sensation intensifies in my eyes as I fight to hold in the tears. “I fall more in love with you everyday Alex, and I hate seeing you with her because it reminds me that I’ll never have you. It reminds me that she can have you and I can’t.”

“I hate that too, okay?” I wasn’t expecting this response. He sounds upset, his own pain giving his voice a certain edge. “I hate that I can’t give you what I want. I hate what’s going on but there’s nothing we can do about it. I’m sorry. Please, just tell me what will make you happy because I don’t know anymore.”

“There’s nothing. I don’t want anything else.” Everything gets blurry and I impatiently attempt to rub the tears out of my eyes.

“If being around me is hard…”

“Stop,” I interrupt. “I don’t want us to avoid each other. I don’t want us to stop talking.” My voice cracks at the end of my sentence. The mere thought of our friendship ending makes my heart ache.

“Don’t cry,” he says, agony and compassion twisted into his voice. “I’m sorry this is hurting you.”

“Stop being sorry!” I shout, frustrated. “It’s not going to change anything. It doesn’t make anything better.”

“So what do you want? Just tell me!”

“Just forget about it! Nothing you say matters. Nothing will ever change,” I cry.

“Lani…” He trails off, unsure of what to say. He can’t think of any comforting words because he knows what I’m saying is right. He turns to me but I don’t do the same. When I realize he has stopped the car in our driveway, I immediately step out and run towards my bedroom. I hear him drive off as I’m making my way up the staircase.

I turn on music to drown out the sounds of my painful sobbing. I then crawl into bed, clutching my stomach as it throbs.

When I feel like I have enough control over my emotions, I turn the volume off. The time displays on my iPod. 8:53 P. M. Out the window I can see the street post lamps provide faint illumination for the night’s darkness. I sluggishly pull my legs forward and sit on the edge of my bed, sniffling, trying to clear my mind. A few whimpers slip out in between. I rub my eyes, and when I open them, I see Alex standing under my doorway.

He stares at the floor, his shoulders hunched. I’m confused, and I don’t want to talk to him but before I can tell him to go away, he looks up at me and I notice something. His eyes, they’re red and sad. My disapproval quickly transforms into sympathy. In a shaky voice, he says his next words.

“I broke up with Melissa.”