Nothing stops him from trying. Not even death.

Submitted into Contest #136 in response to: Write about somebody who knows they’re probably going to fail at something, but does it anyway.... view prompt

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Contemporary Creative Nonfiction Romance

A large blue butterfly lands on my ankle out of nowhere. Scared the shit out of me. I have an uncontrolled fear of insects of any kind, no matter how cute they might be. Comes from childhood. Early years were an eternal night terror. Often woke up screaming “there is a giant bug behind the door”. It was always same kind of bug, like a cockroach, black, six legs and 2 antennas, big eyes staring at me. Standing behind the door. For me it was all real. As real as the real bugs that occasionally crawl on me causing a hysterical crisis. Even the beautiful red ladybug made me scream and run.

So when, as a 42-year-old woman, I noticed that beautiful and magic blue butterfly just sitting on my naked ankle, on that seaside balcony, on that hot August evening, after a romantic dinner and in front of my dinner partner… the child in me came out and I start screaming and crying and jumping all around in terror. This evening was so strange, all together. Odd musing fallowing me all around, like a reminder from another life, from a time when I was with Mark, driving throw the long nights, listening to our music, so in love. Random feelings of excitement, for no specific reason, gave me chills and thrills all this evening. And now this… blue butterfly. The symbol of Cycles of life, death, and rebirth decided to touch my skin.

Had a last glass of wine to calm my nerves, looking far to those sparkling lights of the moon reflecting its face on the still surface of the calm and dark night sea. My mind was just switching off. I hold my lover’s hand and squeeze it just a little to let him know I am present, even if I wasn’t. Raul randomly put his hand on my bareback and kiss the top of my head. That’s what I love about tall men. That kiss on my head, not on my forehead. It’s a feeling of belonging, of being dominated. Women in my generation can only dream in secret of being dominated. It is not politically correct anymore and men don’t even try it. We lost a part of our sexuality, and we try to compensate. Me, I like a kiss on the top of my head, from a tall, big, oversize man. From time to time. Makes me feel small, girlish, vulnerable, even when I know I am not. I don’t even remember a time when I was vulnerable. Maybe in that fatidical evening that ripped my heart apart and throw me on this crazy roller coaster that turned out to be my entire life. My last night of Love and the first night of bitterness. Once I saw that girl sneaking out of Mark’s apartment, I was never the same person again. My entire system collapsed, and the 21-year young woman died at that very moment. Something came back to life in this body, but I never took the time to meditate and analyze who or what that is. For sure not the innocent, resourceful and loving person I used to be. Something strong, insensible, unattached personality came up to the surface and start living ever since. She did have a lot of fun in the process, I must give that to her.

“Crazy drunk thoughts” was my last lucid thought before I fall asleep, but this crazy night was just not over yet. Mark decided to show up. He used to do that often before he passed away a few months ago. Endless nights of heavy dreams with him, repeating over and over again. I knew he was in deep suffering, and he was waiting for my call, maybe for my forgiveness but it was impossible for me to give him any of that. Searching deep into my soul I realized that the person that loved him dearly and suffered for his betrayal was not here anymore. And this person here has nothing to forgive because she is completely out of love and feels no compassion and no connection to him. Just a past fuck of a long line. The problem was, he was still the same man. He was still feeling the love and the connection. And the guilt he was bearing ate his soul and his body and materialized into a bone cancer that eventually got his suffering to an end. Mark died without my call or my forgiveness and up to this day, I could never light a candle for his soul. And I felt no sadness and no regret. For me, he also died that evening and I mourned him and our love. There was nothing left to cry for now.

Still, here he is, in my hotel room, sitting on the edge of my bed, talking softly and wisely, with his very special humor sense, exposing his death man experience to me. Letting me know that death is just a normal thing we go throw many times and spirit is our natural form of existence. Even if it doesn’t seem like it, we do decide when to end our lives. Once we realize we are not able to do the things we came for, we end this life and start another. That is why, on the other hand, very old people who are emotionally attached to a plan they didn’t finish, and they are not at peace with their life plan, they cannot die easily. And the last part of their lives looks like a miracle. They are suffering, they stop eating, doctors give them no chance and still they survive for years. Because they don’t want to die, in their mind they still have things to do here. Same explanation for people of genius who deliver the message for humanity and die at a very young age. They feel they completed their mission, and they decide to end this life. So, they do.

-        Do you remember that evening when we had dinner for the last time? Mark asked. It’s when you said you and I will not be a couple again no matter what. And that was the first time I believed you. So, I begin to die.

-        Oh…

-        What are you still doing here, Cassy? Come along with me. You are wasting your time. Nothing left for you to do here. Let’s go and try again. I’ll do it better next time. Maybe I will fail again, but we will keep on trying this till we nail it! It’s our destiny.

-        No way!

-        Are you staying for him?! Mark nags his head toward Raul, sleeping on the other side of the bed. Don’t tell me you really think you two have anything in common. He is not part of our family of souls. We come from different origins and have completely different trails. A soul like his could never keep up with you. He is cold-hearted, and you are a volcano. You and I, Cass, we are older than the Universe and our flame burned in so many lives you do remember…

And I did remember. Growing up as a teenager I used to have these fantasies of my first night of love. It was always a man, a fire, and an animal fur. The scenery was different. The man looked different. But these three elements were always there. So, imagine my surprise when, after months of intense persuasion, I finally decided to go home with Mark for the first time, on that very hot August night, and he started the fire in the fireplace, then pulled a bear fur in front of the fire. I was in shock as I had never talked or written about this fantasy, I had for such a long time. It was actually a memory of our souls using triggers to recognize each other every time. And it worked.

-        It’s morning soon, Mark said, let me kiss you like I used to, before I go.

He leaned down to kiss my bare soles and his body turned into a blue butterfly on my ankle.

This is how I woke up at sunrise. With this persistent feeling of a blue butterfly kissing my foot and the smell of Mark around the room. But he is dead.

That was just a weird dream, like many others, I am on a very nice seaside holiday with a man I enjoy having around so much and nothing will ruin this for me. Raul brings me coffee in bed as he does every morning since I wake up with him, then he excuses himself for some work time on the balcony. So, I go for an early swim to clear my mind and gain some perspective of things. Ended up screaming for help as sudden deep currents pulled me down and I could not save myself. The fear was real. For a moment I thought I was going to die. People around jumped and saved my sorry ass. I laid on a sunbed for the rest of the morning, thinking… Mark was being serious. He really wants me to die. Maybe he is right, and I am wasting my time living without love and passion. Or maybe I am just being crazy and overreactive to random things without connection. Looking at my phone for the first time I realize it 25th of August 2021. The night before, exactly 20 years ago, on a very hot August night, we made love for the first time, on a fur, in front of the fire, like so many times before in history. 

I am not crazy, only cursed, I think to myself, as a blue butterfly landed on the straw in my cappuccino cocktail. Life is never what it seems. Neither death. I know Mark is going to try again no matter how many times he fails. He did that when alive. He is still doing it. But I am still here, and he is not. And for now, I wouldn’t change a thing.

March 04, 2022 23:24

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1 comment

Graham Kinross
22:16 Oct 19, 2022

“Odd musing fallowing me all around,” *following. Be careful to stick to present or past tense, you’ve used both. “and kiss the top of my head,” in past tense this would be ‘kissed the top of my head’ in present tense, ‘kisses the top of my head.’ “thing we go throw many times,” *through not throw. Did Mark cheat on her in their previous lives? Interesting when you get to the reincarnation stuff here. Reminds me of Nadja in What We Do In The Shadows, who kept meeting the same man again and again throughout history, she’s a vampire.


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