The Black Butterfly by Shirley Reva Vernick

Author:Shirley Reva Vernick
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: Young Adult Fiction
Publisher: Cinco Puntos Press
Published: 2014-06-23T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 6

December 22

I hate the outdoors.

To me the outdoors is where the car is.

—Will Durst

“It’s January thaw come early,” was how George talked me into the snowshoeing idea the next day just because the temperature had nudged above zero. One minute he was saying the snow looked perfect, and the next minute I was out back of the inn, wearing his oversized ski pants, fleece vest, down jacket, neck gator, and up-to-my-elbows mittens. He knelt to snap on my snowshoes, his hair falling over his red headband, then stepped into his own snowshoes and kissed me—a quick, warm peck—before taking a few effortless strides across the yard. “Ready?” he asked.

I lifted my left foot and moved it cautiously forward. When I tried to lift my right snowshoe, I realized—too late—that I’d stepped on it with my left one. Down I went on all fours. George helped me up and told me to try again. “That’s right,” he said when I’d managed to stay upright for a few steps. “Just keep walking. How do you feel?”

“Graceless and dorky.” I stumbled for a few more paces until he wrapped a steadying arm around my shoulder.

“Well, you look great.”

I kept my eyes on my feet and concentrated on not falling. Somehow in his agility George managed to keep our snowshoes from colliding with each other. When it looked like I was going to remain vertical, he let his hand slide down to the small of my back. He wasn’t holding me up anymore—he was just holding me.

Eventually, I took my eyes off my feet and looked around. It was gorgeous out here, an ocean of snow followed by an ocean of water, covered by an ocean of pearly clouds. Being here with George, just the two of us, felt like sharing a secret—intimate, private, familiar. I looked at him, and he tightened his hold on me. In this winter light, his eyes were the richest blue, the boldest green, like the primordial blue and green from which all blues and greens evolved. Almost too strong to look at directly. Almost.

We zigzagged our way in the direction of the beach. “Too bad it’s overcast,” George said. “On a clear day, you can see Spruce Island.”

“It’s a great view anyway.” The ocean was smooth and waveless, broken only by a pier and an occasional bird diving for a meal. Everything was so still, I thought time itself must be frozen over. It felt like we were far away from the inn and the rest of civilization, suspended here between ocean and sky, our own secluded alternate universe.

As we came to a stop a few yards from the water, I wondered if George’s old girlfriend had ever stood here. Did she used to visit the Black Butterfly? Did they make love in his room or in the van or even right here on the beach late at night? A spasm of jealousy shot through my belly and rose to my chest, where it made me cough out loud.

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