Papilionaceous



  Papilionaceous

  Mun Boy

  Copyright 2013 by MunBoy

  The first thing I notice is the silhouetted shape of a butterfly tattooed on her left shoulder blade. It is a small, delicate thing, much like her. Graceful, curving lines of an image barely there. It peeks out from behind the spaghetti strap of her tank top, just to the side of her red hair, bunched up in a simple ponytail like a curtain pulled back to reveal the insect.

  I’ve spent many, many years in this traveling carnival. I’ve seen all types of people. Every type. They are all listless to me, but she stands out. Her shadow weighs down on her. There is defeat in the way she lets her shoulders hang. There is defeat in the way she allows the beefy arm around her waist holds her where she stands, right next to the man with a bulging belly.

  He is a large man, standing a full head taller than the girl with the butterfly tattoo. His arms are large and covered in tattoos. They were once muscular arms, but now they lack definition. The flesh below the ink sags with fat that has replaced that muscle. The black t-shirt stretches around a stomach rounded by heavy beer consumption. He laughs at something his friend says. It is a loud laugh that booms over the music and sounds of the carnival.

  He is a large man, made larger standing next to the wisp of a woman.

  He pulls her into his side, wrapping the colorful arm tighter around her. There’s something in the way she lets her body hang, the way her head rocks from being jerked. She is used to this treatment. She is used to letting others control her life. Her body.

  She turns her head away from him. She looks in my direction. I am taken aback by her eyes. I have seen those eyes before. She reminds me so much of… But her skin is much to pale. Freckles dot her skin. Her hair is red instead of midnight black. But her eyes. Those eyes are windows to the past.

  She twists from the man’s arm. He is too intent on his friends’ conversation, so he lets it drop with indifference.

  I stare into her pale green eyes as she approaches. Other carnival goers move past in fast forward like they always do, but she moves in slow motion. Those eyes trap me. Pull me in. I press my hand against the pane of glass.

  *

  “You there,” I cried out, “you look like you need to know what is in store for your life! How about it?” The man hurried past my tent, barely glancing my direction. He never even made eye contact.

  I turned my attention to a group of girls as they passed. “What about you ladies? Surely one among you needs to know the name of the love of your life?” They just giggled as they walked away, making snide comments about the ridiculous costume the carnival made me wear.

  A man dressed staggered up to me. His clothes hung like limp seaweed to his slight frame. His long hair and beard reeked of alcohol and marijuana. He blinked at me through blurry eyes. “You really see the future, man?” he asked.

  “Of course.” I flashed a wide smile. I somehow managed to not choke on the fumes rolling off his body like heat off asphalt. “Step into my tent and for a mere dollar, I'll let you know everything your future holds.” I gestured expansively to the tent entrance.

  “No way, Man. I don't need to know what the future holds. All I need is the right now, you know what I'm sayin’?” He pushed in closer and I held my breath. “The future's now, Man. It's now.” He sneered. His teeth were yellowed and stained. “You can’t take my future,” he hissed in my face. Like a flipped switched, he smiled, revealing the true horror of his unkempt teeth. “You know what I’m sayin’, Man?”

  I watched him away, disappearing into the crowd. “Damn hippie,” I mumbled. I turned to find myself face to face with a woman. I might have guessed the first thing I would have noticed would be her ample cleavage that threatened to spill out of her low cut top, but it was her eyes. Such pale green eyes that stood out like beacons against her dark complexion.

  I twisted the smile back onto my face. “What about you, young lady, care to know what your future holds for you?”

  She inclined her head and I ushered her into my tent.

  I sat behind a table decorated with nonsense pictures. Pictures of what people generally thought of as mystical. An eye in the palm of a hand. A crow. A fat Buddha sitting cross-legged. A single tree in a field with the moon hanging from it like a fruit. A tarot card with the word “death” scrawled underneath a figure dressed in black robes. Nonsense stuff.

  An electric light, designed to look like a lantern, flickered to add to the ambiance of the dim tent hung over the table. A cheap smoke machine sat hidden in the back of the tent, giving off little puffs of mist that hung in the tent.

  I watched as she settled into the chair across the table. Again, I was unnerved by her eyes, but I quickly recovered my senses. “So, what is your name?”

  “You’re the psychic, shouldn’t you know?” she replied in a low, teasing voice.

  “Come now,” I said. “You don’t really want to waste your time making me divine your name, do you?” I gestured at the bowl that sat just off to the side. Inside was a few dollars and taped to the outside was a hand written sign that read ‘Know what your future holds. $1.’

  A slight smile teased at her full lips and she raised a hand. I don’t know where the money came from, but she held four quarters in her fist. She dropped them one by one into the jar. They clinked in the jar, the few dollar bills there crunching under their weight.

  “Amorite,” she said once the last quarter fell.

  I faltered again. That name took me back to when I was sixteen, two decades ago. A dark haired girl with pale green eyes clouded my vision.

  “Have you missed me, David?” the woman before me asked.

  “Amorite,” I whispered. “How have you been?” I tried to regain some of my composure.

  “It's been a long time,” she said.

  “How did you find me,” I asked.

  “What makes you think I was looking for you?”

  “You're here, aren't you?” I suggested.

  “Who said I was looking for you. It could have been mere coincidence that I tumbled onto you,” she replied. “Fate, maybe?”

  “You know I don't believe in that stuff, Amorite.”

  “No, I suppose you don't.” Her eyes traveled around the silly tent we sat in. “Just as you don't believe in love.”

  “That was a long time ago.” I frowned. “Really, I'm busy-” I stood, but she interrupted.

  “It looked like you were doing brisk business out there. Tell me, when did you become used to people laughing at you? When did you become...this?” She motioned a hand around the tent.

  “I have to make a living, don't I?”

  Her laughter rung around the tent like a bell. “This is your living, David? What happened to all your big plans? Your dreams? Our dreams?”

  “We were kids,” I said softly.

  “I was fifteen.”

  “And I was seventeen. Kids.” I waved a dismissive hand.

  “You said you loved me.” There was no sadness in her voice. Only accusation.

  “Ha!” I sat back in agitation. “What do you expect? How were we supposed to be together? I traveled with a carnival and you went with your gypsy family.” I sneered that label like I was better than her family. Better than her.

  “You said I could go with you.”

  “I had no control over that. My parents-”

  “You could have told me that before,” she interrupted.

  “Before what?”

  “Before you told me you loved me. Before you took my virginity.”

  “We were in love,” I said weakly. “There's nothing wrong with sex between people who love each other.”

  “I was a kid. I trusted you. You told me you loved me to get me to sleep with you.”
>
  “I did not!” I jumped out of my chair. “I loved you but my parents would never allow you to go with us. I think it’s time for you to leave.” I stepped to the front of the tent before I felt her body against my back.

  “Why the hurry, David?” Her pale green eyes traveled the tent, landing on the sign that hung over the table. “Or should I call you Magnificent Luciano?” Her voice rung with bottled laughter.

  “I think you should go,” I said with my back turned to her.

  I felt her hand slide down my arm. I wanted to jerk away, but I didn’t. It was a familiar touch. Like an old blanket from a childhood I never had. Her hand slid into mine. I looked at it. A glittering tattoo of a butterfly adorned the flesh that stretched between her thumb and index finger. Her fingers caressed my hand, the movement causing the butterfly’s wings to take flight. I stared at it.

  The butterfly fluttered up my arm, landing with light kisses on my skin.

  I felt her body press against my back as her tattooed hand slipped over my shoulder and down my chest. Her other hand came down from the other side, a length of light blue fabric clinched between her delicate fingers.

  Her body glided against mine as she lifted to her toes. She rested her chin on my shoulder as she whispered in my ear. The warmth of her breath sent a tingle down my spine. “When you took my virginity, you trapped me in a life I didn’t want.”

  The fabric cinched around my neck.

  I staggered. She pulled with enough force to cause me to stumble to the ground on top of her. She twisted her legs around me, trapping me. The fabric tightened around my neck. Its softness stroked my skin as it closed off my windpipe.

  “Now, you will know what it feels like to be trapped for a lifetime.” Her whispers in my ear became unintelligible. She began to chant. I didn’t understand the language, but I recognized the repeating patterns.

  My vision blurred. I tried to pry the fabric from my neck, but she only pulled tighter with an unnatural strength. I struggled, but my chest burned. I gasped, but nothing came out.

  The tent flaps opened. I saw the flashing lights of the carnival outside, but heard nothing but the sound of her whispering chant. Two men wheeled in a machine. A mechanical fortune teller. My mouth gaped wide of its own accord, trying to get air that wasn't coming. The chanting came as a sing song to my ear as the darkness closed in around my vision. The last thing I saw as it consumed me was the mechanical fortune teller, its dead, wooden eyes staring down at me.

  *

  I look into those pale green eyes as she looks me over. I know what she sees, the fading and chipped paint on my face. The wide, forced smile. The dead wooden eyes. But she stares at me, leaning in close to the pane of glass that separates us.

  Her hand slides into the pocket of her tight jeans, as if on its own accord, and pulls out a quarter. She slips it into the slot and I come to life for the first time in days. Lights flash and music chimes from. My head moves back and forth as my mouth flaps up and down, out of sync from the audio track coming from a speaker in my head.

  “Welcome!” the speakers blare. “I am the Magnificent Luciano, the All Seeing, All Knowing. Ask your question, push the button, and I will let you know all that your future holds!” The audio crackles and falls silent, leaving the soft tinkling of music behind me.

  She stands silent for long moments, staring into my unblinking eyes. Pain flashes across her eyes.

  The audio box fuzzes back to life. “What is your question for Luciano, the Magnificent?”

  She leans in close to the glass. “Does anybody truly love me?” She pushes the faded red button on her side of the glass.

  The music skips to the part where it crescendos while the lights around me flash. The music falls to a low hum, and the lights lower to a mysterious red. “The Magnificent Luciano has heard your question and is considering it, a very good question indeed!” My head turns back and forth as a card is picked up and lined with the slot just below the red button. “The Great Luciano, the Magnificent has peered into the future and saw yours. Below is what I have seen. Use the information I am giving you wisely.”

  The card slides out and the music stops. The lights turn off and I die again.

  She hesitates a moment before reaching down to pull the card that sticks from the slot. She turns it over and reads. Your grandfather loves you. She looks at me with questions in her eyes, her brow furrowed together. “Can you really hear me?” she whispers, but I remain silent. Dead.

  The large, rounded man appears over her right shoulder. “Whatcha doin', babe?” he asks in a deep, thick voice. “What's that?” He snatches the card from her hand before she can slip it away in her pocket. He reads it. “'Your grandfather loves you?' What the hell does that mean?” He laughs and tosses the card on the ground in front of me. “Let's go. This place is lame, so, we're gonna go drink until we puke and pass out.” He laughs loudly, puts an arm around her shoulders and turns her around.

  She lets him lead her away, but as they go, she glances over her shoulder one last time at me. As they walk away, she shrugs his arm off her, revealing the silhouetted butterfly tattoo.