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Authors: Shadow Stephens

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BOOK: Broken Butterflies
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“Did you drive?” her mom asked stepping back from her.

“Yeah, all train service was cancelled.”

Ilisha grabbed her bag from the trunk with a grunt. Dena grabbed the smaller items and her purse.

“I better get this unpacked.” Ilisha dragged her new suitcase up the large wooden stairs. The wheels snagged on the newel post when she had to turn at the center. “Oh, come on,” she said, maneuvering the bag to pass safely and not scratch the wood.

Once inside her room she closed the door and fell on the bed. Ribbons and trophies lined the book shelf. Some trophies were topped with cheerleaders carrying bronze pompoms, others held marching band figures. Posters of 80’s rock Gods littered the walls, and her bed still displayed the blue and white comforter Dena bought her on her sixteenth birthday. She was surrounded by a high school time capsule.

Ilisha heard her mother banging around in the kitchen. She went down to help.

Cakes, pastas, and salads in an array of colors littered the counters. Ilisha popped some grapes in her mouth. “I think you’re going a little overboard.”

“There’ll be plenty of people coming to say goodbye to grandma. We need to make sure they’re fed.”

“Why is it when someone dies, we feel the need to have a dinner party?” Ilisha asked, twirling a fork in her hand.

“It’s just a chance for everyone to say goodbye,” her mother replied, stirring a pot of chili.

“I think it’s a time for people to mooch.”

“Ilisha!”

“I just don’t get it.”

“What do you want me to do to help?” Ilisha asked.

“I need to make cupcakes. Can you get started on those?”

Ilisha looked her mother over. Her brow was perspiring and her apron was stained with unrecognizable food.

“Isn’t anyone else bringing food?” she asked as she began to beat batter. Dena had stacked several pans for her to fill.

“I’m sure they will, but it keeps me busy.”

By the time the cupcakes cooled enough for frosting it was early morning. Ilisha dragged herself upstairs to get some sleep, which would only be a couple of hours. Dena didn’t sleep much since Ilisha’s dad had died, but Ilisha felt it was her duty to help her mom get ready for the funeral.

With sleepy, burning, eyes, Ilisha walked to the bathroom. As she brushed her teeth she gave herself a glance.

“I guess I’m going to need lots of makeup to conceal these dark circles.”

She hurried through a shower, got her makeup on, dried her hair and slipped on a black dress. She slipped on the same shoes she had worn on the train and walked downstairs. Her mom was sitting on the couch waiting for her.

Dena drove to the funeral home and Ilisha found a seat on the back row.

“Don’t you want to say goodbye to grandma?” her mother asked.

“I don’t want to remember her like this.”

She could tell her mother wasn’t happy. Dena would be sitting on the front row daughterless, but the last funeral Ilisha went to was her father’s. The last image of him was cold, clammy, and pasty looking, with too much makeup. She swore she would never do it again.

People she didn’t recognize filed in with a few family members. She stood and hugged those she hadn’t seen in a while. One familiar face stood out in the crowd, her best friend Amy. Ilisha waved and Amy, carrying her baby, crawled over those already seated along the row.

“You’ve gotten so big,” Ilisha said taking the babies hand.

“She’s an eater,” Amy replied.

The room quieted as the minister stood at the podium. “Libby Cramer needs no soft words from the likes of me,” the minister started. “She was a brave and generous woman who put others before herself.”

Ilisha tuned out the minister and looked for her mother sitting on the front row. She was perfectly poised. No sign of emotion showed on her face. Ilisha worried she would have a breakdown one day if she didn’t let her stress and worries out.

Dena rose and walked to the podium when the minister finished and took out a folded paper from her purse. She spread it across the podium. Standing silent for a few seconds, Ilisha knew she was fighting tears. “My mother always told me to be strong. She instilled morals and values in me that I hope I passed on to my own daughter. She will be greatly missed and..” Dena choked on her words, but kept it together. “Thank you all for coming today.” She stuffed the paper back in her bag and took her seat.

“I know she had a lot more written on that paper,” Ilisha said.

“She was never one for a public display of emotion,” Amy whispered back.

Ilisha knew how she felt. She opted not to speak today because she knew she would never get through it. Libby was like a mother to her. Growing up, she had spent just as much time at her grandmother’s house as her own. Ilisha hated the distance between them when she moved to Ohio, but tried to call her grandmother every Sunday. Now she felt guilty for leaving in the first place. She stared down into her lap.

“You’re going to get through this,” Amy said.

Ilisha smiled and took the baby for a distraction.

The pallbearers carried the coffin out and slid it into the back of the hearse. Everyone filed out to the parking lot to follow. There was confusion as to the order of cars for a few minutes, but soon they had it straightened out. It only took a drive around a couple blocks to reach the cemetery.

This time Ilisha stood by Dena and took her hand. The casket was closed so she wouldn’t have any bad images to haunt her. She watched her mother looking down at the coffin. Ilisha could feel the empty place in her heart, and knew Dena would be feeling the same.

A few words were spoken over the casket and the crowd dispersed, but she stood over the grave. Bits of clumped earth had fallen on the bronze casket as it lowered. Ilisha sat on the wet ground and finally had her private moment to say goodbye. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here, and I miss you. I should have been here to hold your hand when you found out about the cancer. I really hope there’s a heaven, because if anyone deserves to be there, it’s you.”

Ilisha wiped the tears from her cheeks as a cemetery worker strolled over with a shovel, followed by a guy driving a backhoe. “I guess you guys want to get to work,” Ilisha said, standing up.

“We can wait, ma’am, if you’re not done.”

“No, I’m leaving, thanks.”

Ilisha walked the few blocks home. On the way she disturbed several large ravens sitting atop headstones. They squawked their displeasure as she passed. Ilisha looked above her. The path was lined with large trees that grew so close together they formed a canopy. Every once in a while the light would poke through. The quiet brought her mind to the train.
How did Bram know the trains would collide? Who is he? I swear I know him from somewhere.

When she was two houses away from Dena’s she saw her uncle standing on the porch smoking. He gave her a wave and she smiled and waved back. She just didn’t feel like being around the crowd right now. Ilisha turned around and walked the opposite direction. She walked to a nearby park and sat in a leather swing. Rocking it back and forth with the tips of her toes she let the quiet sink in.

Hearing the chain on the swing beside her jingle, she turned and saw Bram. Startled, she jumped and gasped.

“Are you okay?” he asked in his soft baritone voice.

“Why don’t we start with a less complicated question, like how did you know where I was?”

“That’s a less complicated question?” He smiled at her.

“I guess not. Why are you here?”

“I just wanna know if you’re doing okay.”

“I should be running from you, since you’re a stalker,” she said sarcastically.

“Do you feel in danger?” His sapphire eyes met hers.

“Actually, no, but that makes absolutely no sense.”

“If I was going to hurt you, I wouldn’t have saved you on the train,” he replied.

“True. How did you know the accident was going to happen?”

He was quiet. “I’m not sure it’s the right time to get into that.”

“You need to give me some answers.”

“I asked you a question first, so I think you need to give me answers. How are you doing?” he replied, with a crooked smile.

Ilisha looked him over.
Perfect teeth, perfect black hair, and drop dead gorgeous. Who are you?
“Considering I almost died and I’m in town for a funeral, I’d say I’m keeping it together pretty well.” She looked at the ground, while rocking the swing.

“You were close to her.” His tone was sympathetic, but there was no hint of a question.

“How did you know?”

He hesitated before answering. “I can hear it in your voice.”

You’re not telling the whole truth.

Bram got up from the swing.

“Where are you going?” Ilisha asked.

“I’ll see ya around,” he said, smiling. “You should get back. Your mother will be worried.”

“I think she’s a bit preoccupied right now.”

“Trust me.”

“You say that a lot, you know?” Ilisha looked down at the ground again smiling shyly. By the time she looked back up, Bram was gone.

 

Her mother stood in the kitchen washing the mountain of dishes left in people’s wake. Ilisha rolled up her sleeves and gathered plates and glasses.

“Why didn’t you buy paper plates?” she asked, putting a pile by her mom.

“Oh no, honey, I can’t have guests eating on paper.” Her mother scrubbed at some cheese dried to a fork.

“Nobody would’ve minded. This is ridiculous.” Ilisha scanned the stacks around the kitchen.

“Well, I would mind,” Dena said rinsing the fork. “Where were you?”

“I stayed at grandma’s grave for a while.” She paused and changed the subject. “How come you never talk about dad or grandma. It’s like you brush the dirty emotions under the rug and forget about them.”

“That’s not true. I coped with your father’s death the best way I could. No good would’ve come out of me crying all the time. I had to put on a brave face for you.”

“Do you miss him?”

“Of course I do.”

Ilisha sighed. “I really miss him too.”

Ilisha kissed her mom’s head. “We can talk later. I need to get cleaned up.”

“Are you going to see Amy today?”

“Yep.”

Ilisha walked the few blocks to her best friend’s house. Amy sat on the front porch rocking her baby, bound up snug in blankets. She waved excitedly trying not to wake up her sleeping bundle.

“It’s about time you got here,” Amy said as Ilisha kissed her on the cheek.

“Why are you out here? It’s kinda cold don’t ya think?”

“It’s kind of warm for this time of year. I’ll take fifty in winter anytime.”

“I can’t believe you still live here. You were the one with big plans to move to New York.”

“Well, I guess that’s what love doesto a person,” Amy said, smiling.

Ilisha sat downon the swing beside her. “So catch me up.”

“Cam just got a contract for an office complex. He’s been busy building homes with the influx of people to the Denver burbs.” Amy shifted the baby’s weight. “So how you holding up?”

“Well as can be expected. Sitting at the funeral I felt like I made a huge mistake moving away. I just couldn’t be here after dad died.”

“You’ll always be welcome back; you know that.”

Ilisha glanced across the street. A man in a dark blue suit watched them from the privacy of a tree. He stood on the other side, his body sticking out just enough for Ilisha to see. “Do you know him?”

“Huh?” Amy said, following Ilisha eyes. “No, what’s he doing?”

Ilisha got up, and the man rolled around to the back of the tree, out of sight. “I’ll be right back.”

She ran across the street to the large oak, circling around it. “What the?” Ilisha said, looking at empty space.

“Who was it?” Amy asked as Ilisha sat back down.

BOOK: Broken Butterflies
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