Butterfly
Butterfly, part 2
They weren't even bothering with keeping their voices down. I guess they figured he didn’t understand their slander, or that they frankly didn’t care if they hurt him. Looking at him, it seemed as though he was unaffected by it. But if you were observant, you would know that he had been reading the same page in his book for the last ten minutes, and you would notice the slight tension in his jaw.
I put my pen down, frowning at his distraught expression. As distraught as he ever looked. “Gaspard...”
“Je n’écoute pas.”[1] He smiled at me, not wanting me to worry. I appreciated it, but it didn’t help much when in the corner of my eyes I saw the snide grins of the boys by the lockers. Gaspard could say he wasn’t listening, but he couldn’t avoid hearing. One of the boys shouted something that made me close my eyes, and when I opened them again I saw a crease had formed between his eyebrows.
“Let’s go,” I suggested, closing my notebook. It didn’t take long to realise he was not following suit, and I gave him a pleading look. “Gaspard, on y va.”[2]
Still smiling, he got to his feet, though not with the intention of going anywhere. He reached his hand out and placed it on my arm, looking into my eyes with something in his gaze that made me forget what I had been doing. It was the knowledge of something I had yet to understand, an acceptance of his misfortune and the ability to survive it.
“Je n’écoute pas,” he repeated, his hand stroking my arm. “Ils ne le savent pas."[3]
“Know what..?” I asked, taken aback by what I’d seen in his eyes.
“Ils ne savent pas ce qu'il signifie. Ils ne comprennent pas les papillons. Tu comprends."[4]
I slowly shook my head, looking down on my books. “It’s not about the butterflies, Gaspard.”
“Oh, oui, il est. Peux-tu pas voire?”[5]
I actually couldn’t see. All I could see were the trials he was being put through, all the pain he had to endure. I knew he was affected by it, I knew the smile often hid the sad feelings. So how could he stand here and say he didn’t listen? How could he bring up butterflies at this moment?
And that’s when I realised. I looked at him again, looked into those blue eyes, and this time I understood what I saw. Placing a hand on his cheek, I saw that it was indeed about the butterflies.
Gaspard was the caterpillar, almost ready to go into his cocoon and go through the transformation, the transition from larva to butterfly. A beautiful, perfected butterfly.
And they couldn’t see it. They couldn’t see his potential, what he would become. They just saw a French boy, terribly quiet and ever-smiling, and they found him an easy target for their sneers and snide remarks. Oh, they would see... This was a change everybody would notice.
He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Regardez. Un papillon.”[6]
My eyes didn’t leave his face for a second. “C'est mirifique.”[7]
“Tu es, aussi.”[8]
With a sigh, I wrapped my arms around him, not ever wanting to let go. “Tu es vraiment émerveillent, Gaspard.”[9]
He chuckled. “Je ne suis rien de spécial. Je suis seulement Français."[10]
I put my pen down, frowning at his distraught expression. As distraught as he ever looked. “Gaspard...”
“Je n’écoute pas.”[1] He smiled at me, not wanting me to worry. I appreciated it, but it didn’t help much when in the corner of my eyes I saw the snide grins of the boys by the lockers. Gaspard could say he wasn’t listening, but he couldn’t avoid hearing. One of the boys shouted something that made me close my eyes, and when I opened them again I saw a crease had formed between his eyebrows.
“Let’s go,” I suggested, closing my notebook. It didn’t take long to realise he was not following suit, and I gave him a pleading look. “Gaspard, on y va.”[2]
Still smiling, he got to his feet, though not with the intention of going anywhere. He reached his hand out and placed it on my arm, looking into my eyes with something in his gaze that made me forget what I had been doing. It was the knowledge of something I had yet to understand, an acceptance of his misfortune and the ability to survive it.
“Je n’écoute pas,” he repeated, his hand stroking my arm. “Ils ne le savent pas."[3]
“Know what..?” I asked, taken aback by what I’d seen in his eyes.
“Ils ne savent pas ce qu'il signifie. Ils ne comprennent pas les papillons. Tu comprends."[4]
I slowly shook my head, looking down on my books. “It’s not about the butterflies, Gaspard.”
“Oh, oui, il est. Peux-tu pas voire?”[5]
I actually couldn’t see. All I could see were the trials he was being put through, all the pain he had to endure. I knew he was affected by it, I knew the smile often hid the sad feelings. So how could he stand here and say he didn’t listen? How could he bring up butterflies at this moment?
And that’s when I realised. I looked at him again, looked into those blue eyes, and this time I understood what I saw. Placing a hand on his cheek, I saw that it was indeed about the butterflies.
Gaspard was the caterpillar, almost ready to go into his cocoon and go through the transformation, the transition from larva to butterfly. A beautiful, perfected butterfly.
And they couldn’t see it. They couldn’t see his potential, what he would become. They just saw a French boy, terribly quiet and ever-smiling, and they found him an easy target for their sneers and snide remarks. Oh, they would see... This was a change everybody would notice.
He leaned in, placing a gentle kiss on my forehead. “Regardez. Un papillon.”[6]
My eyes didn’t leave his face for a second. “C'est mirifique.”[7]
“Tu es, aussi.”[8]
With a sigh, I wrapped my arms around him, not ever wanting to let go. “Tu es vraiment émerveillent, Gaspard.”[9]
He chuckled. “Je ne suis rien de spécial. Je suis seulement Français."[10]
♠ ♠ ♠
Notes: Written mid-night, March 22-23, 2007. Thanks to Chelle who helped me get the French right (I hope). To avoid any confusion, all dialouge is to be considered friendly.Credit for a bit of the character idea goes to Nat and her character Charlie Tenniel, which gave me some inspiration to write this.
French translations
[1] I'm not listening.
[2] Gaspard, let's go.
[3] I'm not listening. They don't know.
[4] They don't know what it means. They don't understand the butterflies. You do.
[5] Oh yes, it is. Can't you see?
[6] Look. A butterfly.
[7] It's wonderful.
[8] So are you.
[9] You are truly amazing, Gaspard.
[10] I'm nothing special. I'm just French.