The Butterfly’s Daughter (3 page)

Luz Avila looked out the wall of grimy industrial windows at the foundry to see thick, gray clouds gathering in the sky. She reached up to tug at the elastic of her ponytail, then shook her head to free her long mane of black hair. Then, slipping into her brown corduroy jacket, she took her place in a long line of employees waiting with vacant stares to enter their numbers into the employee time clock. One by one they moved forward, but she felt they were all really just stuck in one place.

“You wanna go out tonight?” the young woman behind her asked. Dana was only a year older than Luz but already married and divorced. Her short, spiky hair was an unnatural shade of red and she liked to experiment with varying shades of green and blue eye shadow. “We thought we'd hook up at O'Malley's.”

Luz shook her head. Dana wouldn't understand that she was saving every dollar she could to finish college. Or that her conservative Mexican grandmother didn't approve of freewheeling single girls who went out to bars alone.

“Sully and I have plans. But thanks.”

Dana shrugged. “See you at the grind tomorrow, then.”

“Yeah,” she replied dully. The foundry paid a good wage but Luz felt trapped inside its walls, unable to see a brighter future for herself. The best part of her day was clocking out.

Luz stepped out into an October wind tinged with acrid industrial scents. She wrinkled her nose and walked quickly toward the parking lot, where she knew her boyfriend would be waiting for her.

Sully's face burst into a grin under his baseball cap when he spotted her. Sullivan Gibson was a traditional midwestern boy of German-Irish farming descent, evident in his six-foot-three-inch height, his broad shoulders, his penchant for basketball and beer,
and his polite manners toward a lady. His long arm pushed the truck door open for her as she approached, and she climbed into the warm compartment just as an icy northern rain began.

“God, I hate this rain,” she said.

“At least it's not snow.”

The air in the truck was close and reeked of stale cigarette smoke—she couldn't get Sully to break his habit. She leaned across the seat to meet his lips. Sully's brooding blue eyes sparked to life when they kissed, like his truck when he fired the ignition.

Beneath Sully's rough exterior beat the steady, generous heart of a gentle man. He worked at an auto repair shop in Milwaukee. It was a small garage but it had a sterling reputation and a waiting list for appointments. Sully felt lucky to have been offered a job there, but Luz knew that his diligence, reliability, and honesty meant that the garage was the lucky one. Sully already had his own roster of clients. He made a good living with the promise of raises, promotions, and if his dreams were realized, his own shop someday. He was a man ready to settle down with a wife and raise a family. They'd been dating for three years and Sully was her rock. She felt safe when he slipped a possessive arm around her shoulders and drew her close as they pulled out from the parking lot.

Every day after work Sully drove Luz to her home on Milwaukee's south side. He pulled to a stop in front of her unassuming A-frame bungalow, one of many identical houses bordering the narrow street. It was a modest neighborhood, mostly Hispanic. A neighborhood where the residents couldn't afford improvements to the houses and the city didn't bother to improve the streets. But there were pots of brightly colored geraniums on front porches, well-tended shrubs, bicycles chained to a railing, and soccer balls lying in the yard. This was a close-knit neighborhood of families.

Sully let the engine idle and bent to deliver a slow, probing kiss that took Luz's breath away. She pulled back, blinking in a daze.

“What was that for?”

His lips curved shyly, cutting deep dimples into his cheeks. “I was going to ask you. You're awful quiet today.”

Luz's grin slipped and she looked out the windshield. “It's Abuela,” she said, referring to her grandmother. In her mind's eye she saw Abuela as she was early that morning. She hadn't been in the kitchen humming over the stove as usual. Luz had searched and found Abuela shivering outdoors in the damp chill, her nightgown billowing at her ankles and her long, white hair streaming tangled down her back. She'd stood motionless, like a stone statue in the garden.

“What's the matter with her?”

“I'm worried about her,” she said, and immediately his gaze sharpened with concern. “She wasn't herself this morning. She seemed so distracted and her face was chalky and tired, like she didn't sleep a wink. I know she's upset about something but she won't talk about it.”

Sully's dark brows immediately gathered over a frown. “Maybe I should drive her to the doctor.”

Luz's heart softened. Sully loved Abuela and in turn, Abuela doted on her granddaughter's tall and tender-hearted boyfriend. The two shared a bond that endeared Sully to Luz. Abuela was always asking Sully to drive her to the grocery store or the mall or to pick something up because they didn't have a car. Sully was gallant and never refused her. In exchange, Abuela invited him to dinner regularly, knowing he lived alone, and always had a bag of leftovers or cake for him to take home.

“I don't think it's her health,” Luz replied. “Something happened yesterday.”

“What?” he asked, and shifted the gear to Park.

The big engine rumbled loudly, rocking them gently, and Luz could at last confess the worries she'd carried all day. “When I came home from work yesterday she was on the phone. But she got off real quick when I came in, like she didn't want me to overhear. When I asked her who it was she said it was my
tía
Maria, but she wouldn't look at me, and her look was kind of guilty, you know the kind I mean? She just went out to her workroom and began sweeping. I tried to find out what happened but Abuela brushed me off, saying we'd talk about it later.”

“Sounds like it was just a fight.”

“Maybe. Abuela and my aunt are always fighting about something. But this was different. It's big, whatever it is. I've never seen Abuela so . . .” She stumbled for a word, trying to put a name to the sullen expression she'd seen in Abuela's eyes.

“Upset?”

“Worse. Shaken.” She saw Abuela's face again, so pale and drawn, and unbuckled her seat belt. “I better go in and check on her.”

Luz moved to leave but Sully tugged at her elbow, holding her back.

“Uh, Luz,” he began, and cleared his throat. “There's something I should tell you.”

Luz heard the seriousness in his tone and she grew alert. She settled back against the cushion. “Okay.”

“You know how your grandmother asks me to run a few errands for her?”

“Yeah.”

“Well, for a while now she's been asking me to go to the pharmacy to pick up her medicine.”

“Her medicine? What medicine?” Luz asked, alarmed. She hadn't known Abuela was taking any prescriptions and was seized with a sudden fear. Her grandmother was her world. After her mother died when Luz was only five, Abuela had raised her single-handedly, giving Luz the only home she knew. “She never told me she was taking medicine. Sully, if anything ever happened to her, I don't know what I'd do. I can't even think about it without getting teary-eyed.”

“See? That's why she didn't want you to know. She asked me not to tell you, but you're worried about her, and well, I thought you should know.” He looked at her anxiously. “I hate to break a promise.”

Luz took a shaky breath and exhaled. “No, Sully, you did the right thing to tell me. Especially if . . . I won't tell her I know.” She looked out anxiously at the house. “I better go in and check on her.”

“Do you still want me to pick you up tonight? Maybe you should stay home.”

She shook her head. “I'm probably making too big a thing out of all this. I'll be ready.” Luz leaned in for a quick kiss, then climbed from the truck. She heard the sudden roar of the engine as Sully pulled away. A light rain chased her up the stairs to her front door.

Her grandmother's brown brick bungalow appeared dreary and dull from the outside, but once she was inside, the little house pulsed with life. Abuela's vibrant spirit breathed in every brightly painted room. Metal and ceramic icons from Mexico hung on the
walls and in a place of honor in the living room was a large, framed painting of the Virgin of Guadalupe.

Luz set her purse down on the small tile-topped hall table. She heard sounds of children's laughter and, lifting her nose, caught the unmistakable scent of maize. An involuntary smile eased across her face.

“I'm home!” she called out.

“
¡Aquí!
”

She followed the voice to the kitchen, where the rich smells of dark roasted coffee, maize, and cumin embraced her. A wooden bowl overflowed with limes, oranges, and the avocados Abuela adored. She told Luz tales of enormous
aguacate
trees growing on her family farm in Mexico, ripe with avocados she could pick by the bushel. Fragrant steam rose from a pot on the stove, rattling the lid. Abuela was surrounded by two girls and a boy around seven years of age. Looking up, Esperanza caught Luz's eye, then with a quick smile she clapped her hands.

“Time to go,
mis niños
! Your mothers will be calling you for dinner,” she sang, herding the children toward the door. “No, no, the butterflies are gone. They flew off to Mexico.
Lo siento.
I'm sorry. But don't worry. They'll be back in the spring, eh?
Sí, sí, yo prometo.
”

Luz leaned against the doorframe, relieved to see her
abuela
back to her normal self. She crossed her arms and watched the hectic scene unfold. Abuela was called La Dama Mariposa, the Butterfly Lady, in the neighborhood because she raised butterflies. Monarchs in particular. For as long as Luz could remember there had always been children hovering near Abuela, especially during the summer, when the monarchs were bursting from chrysalises or being released into the garden.

At last the door closed and Abuela turned to face Luz, clasping her hands tightly. Her dark eyes sparkled with mysterious excitement.

“I have something to show you! A surprise!”

Luz dropped her arms and straightened, alert. “A surprise? For me?”

“For us! Come!” Abuela laughed with the enthusiasm of a child. She reached out to pull her black shawl from the back of a chair.

Luz couldn't help the ear-to-ear grin that spread across her face. She'd thought it was such a rainy, gloomy day, but now Abuela was laughing and talking about surprises. She laughed to herself as she followed Abuela outdoors.

The rain had slowed to a faint drizzle, more a mist that fell soft on her face. She tucked her arm under Abuela's as they made their way down the six cement steps to the front sidewalk. Abuela detoured across the short expanse of city grass to stop before an old Volkswagen Bug at the curb. Dropping Luz's arm, she dug into her pocket. Her face beamed in triumph as she pulled out a key.

“Surprise!”

Luz's mouth slipped open in a gasp. “
A car?
”

“Come, take a look!” Abuela exclaimed, placing the key in her hand and nudging her toward the curb. “What do you think?”

Words failed Luz as she took in the small burnt orange car at the curb.

Abuela clasped her hands together near her breast. “You were surprised, right?”

“Ah, yeah,” Luz sputtered.

“I knew you would be. I could not wait to see your face.”

Luz walked across the soggy soil closer to the car. Under the yellow glow of the streetlight, she could see that the old VW Bug had lived a hard life. Multiple small dents and spots of rust were
like a pox across the faded orange metal. When she peeked in the window, everything looked more spindly and less plush than in newer cars. She shook her head, wondering to herself what surprised her more: that Abuela had actually bought a car, or that Abuela had somehow managed to unearth the ugliest, sorriest car on the planet. And yet, something about it was utterly vintage, and she had to admit she liked it.

“You bought a car!” she said, and knew a moment of giddiness.

Abuela cocked her head at Luz's hesitation. “You wanted a car, right?”

“Oh, yes,” she agreed with a shaky smile. She'd had a savings account for several years, just to buy a car, but it never seemed to get past a thousand dollars. “I wanted a car. But . . .” Luz bit her lip and hesitated.

She didn't want to appear ungrateful, yet niggling worries about money dampened the fire of her enthusiasm like the cold rain. Luz was frugal and knew to the penny how much—or how little—was in their family checking account and how much they currently owed on their credit card. Since she was the only one employed, the responsibility for paying those bills fell on her shoulders. How could Abuela just go out and buy a car? she wondered, feeling her shoulders stiffen.

“So, what do you think?”

“Abuela, where did you get the money for a car?”

Abuela waved her hand in a scoff. “It's not so much.”

Luz looked at the ancient VW with dents in the fenders and patches of touched-up rust and hoped her sweet grandmother wasn't fleeced. “How much did you pay?”

Abuela sniffed and lifted her chin. “It isn't polite to ask how much a gift cost. This does not concern you.”

“I'm sorry. But, Abuela, it
does
. . .” Luz took a deep breath. “Did you charge it on the credit card?” She had to ask. The credit card company had just raised its rates and she was already wondering how long it would take for her to pay it back.

“No. I had money.”

Luz's brows rose. “You did? From where?”

Abuela's gaze diverted. “I have a secret place . . .”

Luz imagined a sock filled with dollar bills, coins hidden in a coffee can. She suppressed a chuckle at her grandmother's old-fashioned ways. “How much do you have?”