The Butterfly Keeper

24

TWENTY-FOUR

WHEN I was young, barely the age of seven, I had convinced myself I was special because I had parents that were different compared to my friends', and because I knew things other kids my age didn't. It had been drilled into my head that I was mature for my age, both mentally and physically. It felt good to know that there was something embedded in me that made others look and notice me. It made me feel, almost, like I was sitting on top of the world.

What I didn't realize, it would grab the attention of the wrong person. Looking at Sebastian everyday made me realize I wasn't 'special', I was just desperate and seeking for something to validate me.

"Are you hungry?"

I look up from the notebook I have laid open on the ground just as Sebastian is walking into the living room with a box in his hands. I shake my head at his question and return to shading in a row of triangles I have sketched along the edge of the paper.

"You didn't finish your plate this morning,"

Lifting a shoulder, I add more pressure to the pencil and darken my shading. "I'm not hungry."

Sebastian merely sighs and walks to the couch behind me and sets down the box. He lingers behind me for a moment, probably looking down at my notebook as I feel his stare pierce the top of my head. I slip the pencil into the middle of the page and close the notebook, to which he clears his throat and returns to the place he stood.

"What's in the box?" I ask as Sebastian sinks a hand into his back pocket and leans his shoulder against the wall.

The brim of his lips pull slightly upward and his eyebrows raise. "Clay. I thought maybe you'll want to do something with it."

The clay is in a different box than the one it was in last time, it's much smaller and it wouldn't possibly fit the sculpture I did of Sebastian's face, and I wonder what he did with it.

"I don't." I cut him off from any ideas beginning to rack up in his head.

His mouth forms a small 'O', "Okay, well if you change your mind, it's there for you."

I don't respond and, instead, look down at my lap and run my thumb over the spiral binding of the notebook. Sebastian doesn't get the hint that I want to be left alone now and continues to stand there in silence, staring me down.

Maybe, he wants to ask me what I did with that photograph of the ocean. He probably believes I ripped it up and threw it out, and I'm okay with that. I want him to think I did the worst to that photograph, it's better than him knowing I saved it.

From side of my eye, I catch Sebastian's shoes slowly to inching away from the wall and towards me. I look up as we walks past me and I follow his movements. He glances at me, brief, and slouches down on the couch beside the box with legs set apart and the base of his neck drooping up. It's unlike Sebastian to see him so...relaxed and idle.

"What?" He asks and I realize I've been staring at him for far too long than needed to.

"I...are you okay?"

Sebastian closes his eyes and smiles small. "I think so."

We both sit there in our own quietude, and I know this is the right time to leave, but I can't get myself to get off the floor. It's like the wooden planks are splintering me set onto the ground.