Renewed

“The children; did they take the caterpillar? I don’t want Tabby getting to it,” Henry muttered, watching from the couch as Tabby scuttered off of the seat next to him. She took a place on the floor across the room, curled up with her tail tucked neatly between her paws. Lola put down the towel she was folding and sighed. 

“No, it’s on the kitchen table. Henry, it’s your nephews; they’ll be over again sometime soon, and I’ll make sure that they take him home.” 

“Damn it, Lola. I told you to make them take it today. Go put it outside,” hissed Henry. Lola complied, taking the jar with the green and yellow caterpillar outside and setting it on the porch railing. She took a second to admire the calm squirming of the animal and softly stepped back inside. 

Henry was an unbearable man. Some people considered him the worst in town. Lola was the unfortunate soul that married him. Despite his placement as chief judge in the local court, he truly was a terrible personality. Rarely did he show mercy on those in his courtroom, and rarely did he demonstrate love for his wife; he simply took advantage of her. Terrified of upsetting him and sending him into one of his fits of rage, Lola remained submissive. 

Smoothing her pinstripe dress, Lola took a seat on the arm of the couch where her husband reclined. “I’m sorry you had another rough day. How about some salmon and rice for dinner? I know it’s your favorite,” asked Lola. Henry merely nodded his head in response, refusing to turn his attention away from the television. Defeated, Lola retreated to the kitchen, Tabby following at her heels. 

She rested her pale arms on the counter, leaning in to gaze out the window at the jar on the porch. Tabby jumped up and rubbed against her wrist. Sighing, Lola straightened out and retrieved the bag of rice from the cupboard. 

…

The sun had begun to set and Lola was not yet home. Henry slammed his cup on the counter. Fragments of glass flew and coated the tile floor. Tabby rushed behind the couch at the disturbing sound. Panting with fury, Henry stayed hunched over the shard-covered counter. Almost as if on cue, the front door slowly opened and Lola tiptoed inside. She paused at the sight of the state of the kitchen. 

“Where the hell have you been?” Henry demanded. The sunset glinted off of pieces of broken glass and cast beams of light across the kitchen wallpaper. 

“I was over helping Amal with the new house. It’s awfully big; there was no way she could unpack by herself.”

“What about Ken? Why can’t he help her?” 

“He’s on a business trip,” stated Lola. She shifted her eyes to the glass strewn over the tile. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. She reached for the broom in the corner. Henry walked towards his wife and embraced her strongly, knocking the broom from her hand. He pressed his cheek to hers and moved his mouth to her ear. 

“Don’t you ever go out again without asking me first.” After kissing her forehead, he pulled away. He sauntered to the couch, leaving Lola to clean up his mess. The caterpillar still sat in a jar on the porch. It had begun to turn brown.

…

Henry told Lola to invite the neighbors over for dinner. He instructed her to make salad and seared steak. She obeyed. 

Together, they sat on the porch eating the prepared meal. They talked of irrelevant news and shared town gossip; that’s all anyone did anymore. The smallest changes were being heard by every ear. After a few hours of chatting and enjoying Lola’s cooking, the neighbors parted ways. The neighborhood was content, for they didn’t know the abuse Lola faced. Henry was satisfied with the gathering and retired to bed almost immediately. 

After Henry disappeared up the stairs, Lola brought the jar inside. The caterpillar had cocooned, and Lola didn’t want it to freeze outside on the porch. It deserved a chance at freedom as much as the rest of us. It kept her company as she cleaned up after the party. 

…

That night, Henry came home furious. The attorneys had disputed his rulings adamantly, causing chaos in the courtroom. He stormed in the front door, aching to control at least one aspect of his life. Lola, per usual, became the target. He peered at the laundry on the arm of the couch.

“Why is my suit on the sofa? It’ll crease if you don’t hang it up!” shouted Henry. He took Lola by the shoulders and shook her violently. She swayed under his movements like a rag doll. He stopped upon noticing the jar on the counter by the sink. “And I told you to get rid of this goddamn caterpillar!”

“I’m sorry! It would die if I left it outside!” Lola cried, picking up the jar and cradling it to her chest. 

“Why don’t you go stay outside with it then,” hissed Henry. Grabbing the waist of her dress, Henry pushed Lola out the door and onto the porch. He stood blocking the doorway. Lola’s face flushed red and her heart began racing. 

“I have been loyal to you for five years, Henry. Five years! I have done everything you told me to do. I have let you take advantage of me. You are no longer the decent man I thought I married; you’ve changed. Now it’s my turn to change.” Lola stomped down the porch steps. “Look out for divorce papers in your mailbox,” she stated, unwaveringly. For the first time, her voice didn’t shake while addressing Henry. He growled and slammed the door shut. Lola started to walk to Amal’s house. 

Upon reaching the large red door, the cocoon began to wiggle. When Amal answered the stern knock, she saw Lola standing tall with a glass jar containing a bright yellow and orange butterfly. Both looked renewed.