Butterfly Fate

Born as a creature so small and helpless; a slow thing who constantly strives to survive - a caterpillar - whose fight to survive begins the moment it is born. In such a big world where it can starve, be crushed, eaten, drowned, or even dry out in the burning sun; the worm still continues to survive.

It doesn’t even know what it’s surviving for. Nor what it can become once it has finally completely enclosed itself in the thin thread it spins. But on it goes, nonetheless. The Butterfly Fate.

We aren’t so different, aimless trying to survive towards an uncertain goal of life. Only difference is, we don’t get wings.

Her life wasn’t remarkable by any standards. Hand-me-downs with minor stains or rips. A room minimally decorated. And one friend she could hang out with and be herself.

She didn’t go to parties or have sleepovers. She didn’t know what it was like to leave the city she lived in. As a matter of fact, she knew only a small part of the city; four main areas that created the little box she lived in: home, school, the park, and a bakery where she worked part-time on the weekends. She had curfew, so she didn’t ever have the time to venture further.

However, despite her mundane life, she had small pockets in her day to allow a love to bake. Pastries, to be more specific. She could get lost in doing it for hours making different shapes and sizes. If magic existed, it would be within moments like those.

She was okay with her way of living – that’s just the way things have always been and more than likely would always be.

Mondays were school, homework, chores, hang with her friend at the park, come home before curfew, study, bake a small treat, go to bed.

Same for Tuesday, Wednesday, and Thursday.

Today was Friday, so for her it meant school, getting home to grab a late lunch, and head to work.

Simple, mundane, repetitive.

. . .

“Good morning, welcome to Bellore’s Bakery. What can I get for you?” She smiled for the eighth time in the past half hour.

He was towering and lean, any hair was hidden by a black hoodie pulled over his head casting a shadow on his face.

“Morning beautiful. It’s my first time here. What do you recommend?” He slid his hands into his jean’s pockets with a cute side smile on his lips.

She twisted her mouth to the side in a shy smile as she looked down at the menu in her hands. “Uh, well I’m supposed to tell you one of the expensive baked goods, but I personally enjoy the blueberry bread with lemon cake tea.”

“Mmm, seems I’ll have to take your word for it. I’ll have it to go, sweetheart.”

“It’ll be ready shortly,” glancing at him through her lashes, she pulled out a brown paper bag. “Are you, uh, new here?”

He rocked back on his heels. “Depends. Are you into new guys?”

A soft laugh escaped her, and she mumbled, “I was just curious.”

He chuckled. “Yeah, moved here with my aunt and uncle a few weeks ago. Not my first time in the city though.”

She folded the top of brown bag with his order inside and slid it to him on the counter along with the cup of lemon cake tea.

He pulled out some cash and handed it to her. As she began to take it, he took hold of her hand, his touch was gentler than she anticipated judging from his strong features. “Calande.”

Her heart skipped a beat. “Oh, uh, I’m Mariam. Nice to meet you.”

She looked down and their hands and noticed tattoos with no colour on each of his fingers. A tiny slice of what appeared to be chocolate cake on one, an ice cream cone on another, a cupcake on the next, and finally a tiny milkshake.

He followed her gaze down to his tattoos. “Curious about them?” he lifted her hand and turned it over to kiss her palm. “Maybe I’ll tell you about them next time I’m here, beautiful.”

Calande took his order with a sassy grin and exited the store.

The day ended and they closed the bakery for the night.

She looked down at her palm as she remembered the soft sensation of the man’s lips touching her skin. ‘Hmm. What a pleasant feeling.’

Walking up the street to her home, she pulled out her notebook with a blue butterfly printed on the cover from her backpack and opened it. All her life plans were documented inside.

This semester she was going to graduate. She planned to work full time in the bakery for a year before starting college. She would take culinary courses, gain more experience under a list of ideal bakeries and take out a loan in the next five or six years to open her own bakery.

She flipped to the next page detailing her store front design and the most popular pastries in her area, but the page next to it was only half filled.

She sighed as she looked at the page. She wanted a bakery, but that’s all she knew. Nothing else stuck. Nothing else fit. Even the store names; Mariam’s Pastries. Madam Mariam. Pastry Palate. Nothing.

. . .

Saturday. He came back again.

Sunday too.

It became a regular weekend treat for her; he always came a half hour into her shift. He’d kept her company while there were no customers and they’d talked about her goals to be a baker and own her own store. She showed him her notebook full of her ideas and time slots for everything. He happily listened to it all.

“Calande?” She leaned on the counter to get closer to him.

“Hmm?” He smiled and also leaned on the counter, bringing his face inches from hers.

She blinked and shyly turned down her head. “Um, why do you have those tattoos on your fingers?”

The tattoos danced as he flexed his fingers. “The slice of chocolate cake is mine. The strawberry cupcake is for my little sister, the banana ice cream is my other sister, and the vanilla milkshake is for my mom. All our favourite desserts.”

“You seem close.” She touched the cake slice tattoo.

“We are. I’m going to get one more one day. Here.” He wiggled his thumb.

“Who will go there?” She looked at him.

He cheekily replied, a suggestive smile on his lips. “The woman I marry.”

A small smile danced on her lips, and she hung her head shyly. “Lucky girl.”

. . .

Her shift ended. But Calande stayed with her. “Can I take you somewhere?” he asked her. “You can choose.”

There was a very unique place her city had that’s she always wanted to visit, but never did. A butterfly garden. Well, it was an insectarium, but only the butterflies interested her.

“Why?” Calande asked her when they arrived at the indoor garden.

“Because their lives are so small, just like them. Almost insignificant in the scope of everything. Yet still they are so beautiful and keep on surviving, nonetheless. And people always come to admire them like they are something more than just insects.”

He gazed at her for a few moments then tilted his head to the glass containment for the butterflies. “Which is your favourite?”

She looked around inside until she spotted a blue butterfly. “That one. The blue morpho.”

“So, you love baking and butterflies. Interesting combo, isn’t it?” Calande pulled out his phone and snapped a couple pictures of the blue morpho butterfly. “How come you haven’t been here before?”

It never bothered her before, never being to most places although they were close by. But telling him embarrassed her for a strange reason she didn’t understand. “I, uh, I have a routine that I follow. Doesn’t really leave much room for much else.”

“That sounds awfully dull. Don’t you want to see more of the world?” They both continue looking around the insectarium.

“I’ve never thought of it. Life is mundane and at the end of it, there’s not much point to it.” She shrugged. “Like butterflies. The Butterfly Fate, I like to call it.”

“God, you sound so angsty,” he laughed out loud. “I have a plan. Come with me.” He took her by the hand and ran with her out of the building.

“Where… are we going?” She puffed out as they slowed down.

“My favourite spot.” He grinned back at her, that sassy smile she was coming to love seeing.

They reach the bus stop just as it pulled up. They take the last two available seats.

It must’ve been half an hour before they reached their destination, the heart of the city. Buildings were towering overhead, crowded streets full of bustling people, store galore and the smell of food was everywhere.

He took her to the tallest building, she had to arch neck all the way up to see the top. In the elevator, he pressed the top floor. Up a flight of stairs, he brought her to a high gated balcony.

The city at the cusp of dusk is cast in an orangey glow, tiny white, red, and green lights dot the buildings and streets for miles and miles.

“This is amazing!” She beamed. “But why did you bring me up here?”

“Just because, it’s a place I find worth being seen. Many things are. People too.” he took her hand with a glint of happiness in his eyes. “Want to hear a story my grandmother told me when I was younger? Coincidentally, it was about a butterfly.”

Her interest piqued; she nodded her head.

He leaned on the fence and begun. “A man sat outside on a bench in a park, depressed. An elderly lady came up to him and asked, ‘What troubles you?’ to which he replied, ‘There really is no point to life at the end of it all. We all die. So why do we live?’. The old woman pointed to a butterfly on a flower. ‘You see that little creature? I’m sure as a caterpillar it would wake up and say – ‘What a bothersome life I live. So small and insignificant. I could starve, be crushed, be eaten, drown, or even dry out in the burning sun. What a worthless life I live? Just to what? Wrap myself in darkness at the end of my journey?’ –.

‘But despite its worries, it kept on surviving every hardship, until the day came where it wrapped itself in darkness ready to give up to the inevitable. Yet, though it seemed only moments passed, it felt the insistent need to get free. So, it fought and fought to get out of the darkness, and at last, light broke through. Once it was free, it became aware of the beautiful wings it had sprouted. That is all that changed however. But it didn’t dent the amazement of the new world it was born into.

‘The butterfly realized; it will constantly have to fight to survive; anything could kill it even though it has adapted. It would still constantly be in danger of starving, being crushed, eaten, drowned, or dried out in the burning sun. But the butterfly also realized in that moment; even with its struggling and fragility…

I can fly!’.”

Calande took out his phone and handed it to her, the picture of the blue morpho butterfly on it.

“Why not use it for your bakery logo?” He thoughtfully looked at the city below. “If you think about it, cakes undergo the same kind of life as a butterfly. Goes through so much just to be eaten.”

She laughed at him. “I suppose so.”

“How did you word it again? Oh! Butterfly Fate.”

To Be Continued…