Chrysalis Days & Butterfly Nights [Wattys 2023 Shortlist]

14

14

Luke didn't know what to do. He had stared at Helen, who was once called Allen, and memories flashed through his mind. In silence, he opened the car door, closed it behind him and opened the rear door, allowing Toby to jump out, none-the-worse for wear after the kick he had sustained and the chaotic car journey. He collected his things, surprised that Toby hadn't dashed away already, the dog stood, waiting for him, curled tail making a slow wag.

"I offered a cuppa." He knew his face looked as though struck from rock, but he couldn't think of anything else to say. She had saved him. "I only drink tea this late."

"Lovely!" Helen slammed the driver's door a little too hard and tossed the keys to Luke. "I'll be late for my eleven o'clock, but he's a little sub, he'll take it as a punishment."

She strode past Luke, up the driveway toward the house as though she hadn't revealed anything shocking at all. After the incident at the school play, Luke had suffered months of pointed fingers, jokes and bullying, something he had never had to suffer before. All because Allen, Helen's previous persona, had accused him of something Allen had done.

Still not feeling quite right after the attack, Luke fumbled with his door keys before opening the door wide. Toby dashed inside and Helen almost copied him. She walked upon those outsize heels better than Luke did in normal shoes and he still couldn't get over the sheer length of those legs. Before he had even closed the front door, Helen had made it into the living room.

With the clothes, dirty wig and boots dropped to the floor in the entranceway, Luke made his way to the kitchen, filling the kettle and setting up a pair of mugs. While it boiled, he glanced around the door to see Helen circling the room, her head so close to the ceiling she almost had to duck. As she moved, she appeared to touch everything. Ornaments picked up and put back, photographs shifted to look at and then shifted back. After a while, as the kettle's rumbling grew to its boiling crescendo, Helen dropped onto the sofa, leaning back and crossing those long legs, bouncing one of her shoes off her heel, balancing it on her toes.

"Listen, we need to talk." He placed the steaming mug on a coaster on the coffee table before her and then put his own down. It was the first time he hadn't had to strain his neck to look at her. "What you did, in school ..."

"I was a dickhead. A total, repressed, self-hating dickhead. No excuses." She lifted her hands in surrender, shaking her head, the bright red wig flicking against her cheeks. "I can only say I'm sorry. Would you like to hit me for it? It wouldn't be the first time."

Those hands spread to the sides as she leaned forward, closing her eyes and thrusting out her chin. She meant it. If Luke hit her, he doubted Helen would say a thing afterward. In fact, he expected she would carry on a conversation as though nothing had happened. He didn't want to hit her, at all. Not for something that happened so long ago but also because he couldn't even imagine hitting someone so beautiful.

He dropped to the sofa beside her and she opened one eye, the long lashes flickering upward, then the other. With a shrug, she sat back, at complete ease with herself and her surroundings. Here, under the lights of the living room, Luke had a better view of her and his opinion hadn't changed. She looked amazing, tucking her wig over one ear with three piercings in it. She saw his gaze take in everything and smiled.

"I'm serious. I couldn't fault anyone holding a grudge after what I did." She leaned an elbow on the back of the sofa, cradling her cheek. "That person was an arsehole of epic proportions. This person is lovely."

She trailed her other hand in front of her, from head to toe, long fingernails glinting in the light. She gave a laugh as Luke followed the progress of that hand before he realised that he was staring. She couldn't be more different from that boy back at school. Allen had come across as sullen and angry, silent most of the time and, when he did speak, it had come out more of a growl than anything at else. Helen was nothing like that. Helen was alive, vivacious, infectious and talkative. Luke couldn't blame this person for the actions of someone that no longer existed.