Lavender Monarch has Exactly Thirteen Fears

17. butterfly house

The therapist asked me what happens when I am faced with my fears. I told her it was always one of two things. I either dissociate entirely till I'm not in the situation at all and I visit the butterfly house.

The butterflies are awake down there. The breeze is blowing like gentle June winds and everything is slow and quiet. It's like being underwater. A koi fish swims by and the orange and pink sunlight glints on the surface of the pond. The leaves swirl in little clusters.

The afternoon glow falls through the trees making kaleidoscopic patterns down the surface of my skin. It's gentle. I dive into the pond and it's deep. Oh, so much deeper than I thought and the water it is like a warm caress and like soft summer rains.

A manta ray glides above me and I turn on my back. I can still see the trees. I breathe in and out. Hush. The sky fades gently and the night is upon. Dusk falls like a carpet rolled across the sky. The night is warm. The air thick and musky. It's so comfortable.

I feel at peace. I listen to the gentle gurgle of the river, to the crickets chirping quietly, to the soft wind in the leaves and the gentle lapping of the ocean. Listen to the quiet. It's so hazy, so peaceful. I almost feel like I could just fall asleep. Fall down the rabbit hole. Fall far into a land of dreams. That's how I know I've found it, deep down here in the depths of my mind. The butterfly house.

It's the only place I don't feel afraid and where I know nothing can hurt me. If I don't go there though, then the other thing happens. The scary thing. My thoughts race around me like a tornado and I get swept up in the gush.

They crash like waves over me and pound and pound till I go limp and give up. They turn to forest fires burning out of control. Burning me and it hurts. It goes out of control.

My thoughts are toxic like poisonous apples and it feels like stiff lace is wrapped around my throat. I hyperventilate my breaths no longer serving a purpose other than to make my chest seize tighter and for me breathing to become more laboured.

Sweat oozes from my pores and the boat rocks from side to side. My insides turning to slosh and rocking on the rocking horse till the nausea becomes so intense I throw up. Then I die. It isn't pretty.

She had tapped her pen on the notebook and given me a soft smile. That's when she had suggested the medication.

The medication that now sits in front of me in it's a little yellow container. Happy pills. I roll the white cylinder in my fingers and place on my tongue. I swallow it down with a gulp of water. This doesn't feel right, but I know I have to take it. 

The weather has improved today, so June and I are working on our treehouse in the mellow glow of the afternoon sunlight. June is balancing on a larger branch, wrenching up the old planks that we put up there so haphazardly all those years ago. He chucks one down and the wood has rotted so much that it breaks in two.

"Hey, be careful!" I cry, "that one almost hit me." His head is up in the branches and he pulls out the last one before lowering himself down. When he lands next to me I look up and see he has leaves and twigs stuck all up in his curls. I laugh and reach over to brush them out, holding the offending pieces in my hand and waving them in front of his face.

"It's a fashion statement," he says, "you won't be laughing when you see me on next month's issue of Vogue." He grabs one of them out of my hand and sticks it in my hair. I try to brush it out which only results in it getting more tangled up. God, he's annoying.

"C' mon, enough messing around. We got work to do," I say. He pulls out his sketchpad and for a moment I freeze remembering what I saw the last time I went through it. He flips to a page and shows me his final design, it looks complicated with all the numbers and dimensions and whatnot but I trust he knows what he's doing.

We leave up the four planks that created the foundation, as they were actually quite sturdy and reasonably structured. June climbs back up and I slowly feed him the planks before following him up myself. He has the screwdriver and is drilling the pieces together.

"So..." I start, taking a seat on a stable part that has already been constructed.

"Be quiet, I need to concentrate on this," he says his brow furrowed so I lapse into silence. He's biting his lip again, his trademark expression. He finishes screwing and places the screwdriver next to him and looks up at me, "what is it?"

"Um. I think we need to talk about those drawings..."

"No. We don't," he says and picks up the screwdriver again. The whirring fills the silence and I sigh in frustration. He's been ignoring this topic all day. He seems to pay no attention to my growing annoyance. Every time he finishes one screw he just grabs another leaving no room for conversation. "Are you going to help me?" he eventually asks and I reluctantly begin sawing off the uneven edges.

We work in silence for a little longer until it finally seems all the boards are screwed into place. He brushes his hands together wiping off the sawdust, his shaggy curls falling over his eyes.

"June we can't avoid this topic forever," I say putting the tool down. He just smiles. Why the hell is he smiling?

"You seem really desperate to talk about me," he smirks.

"June!" I cry but I can't help but smile. I try to hold it back but the mischevious glimmer in his eye wins me over and I give up. "And for the record, it's not about you, but me!" He laughs and runs a hand through his hair. His expression turns more serious and he looks at me with his milky brown eyes.

"Can we please just pretend that didn't happen?" he says, looking down.

"Not really. I'm just confused, I don't know what it means." I sigh dramatically and he rolls his eyes, "I need you to promise me that you're cool with us just being friends."

"Of course I am! It was just a stupid mistake, I don't know why I drew it. Lavender you have always been my closest friend and that has to come first and foremost. And I don't know...it was my monkey boy brain coming out or something." That last remark causes me to snort. I can never keep myself together around him. 

"Thanks, June. God, we are both failing at this whole friendship thing aren't we?"

"I don't think so. I think we're mainly just failing at building a treehouse."

"Why do you say that?" I ask, genuinely confused. I thought our treehouse was good. He points to where I'm sitting and I see the plank is bending under my weight. I scream and pull myself to a more supportive part. I can hear him laughing behind me.

"Seems like we will need to add some new foundations after all," he says. This treehouse is nothing but trouble. If some kid breaks his leg coming up here I am not being held responsible.

We spend the last few dwindling hours of sunlight working hard on it. It's nowhere near completed but it's certainly getting somewhere. I'm just enjoying having June all to myself again. Nothing weird happens and I eventually relax.

I guess it doesn't have to be so complicated after all. He's my best friend and I get the sense that no matter what goes on between us, that will always stay the same.

"How's Patty?" he asks out of nowhere as we carry the tools back into his yard. We figured we should probably bring everything back there each day so it doesn't get stolen or something.

"Apparently he's moving," I'm unable to hide the annoyance in my tone.

"Wait, what?" he says, piling the tools into his shed. 

"He didn't tell me till yesterday. Did you know?"

"No, why would I know that? I'm not even friends with him. When?"

"Soon, he didn't tell me for a week and a half of knowing."

"That's not cool at all. "

"Exactly! He's such an idiot." This causes June to smile as he walks out, closing the door.

"An idiot, huh? So you're in love with an idiot then?" He gives me a charming wink and I slap his arm playfully.

"So what if I am?" I retort, hoping to wipe the smile off his face. It doesn't work. In fact, it causes his smile to grow wider. It's only a joke. There is no way I'm in love with him at all. 

"Then you're an idiot too," he says. I pout my lips and he chuckles.