Jaded (The Butterfly Memoirs) (31 page)

“Can I help you?” The woman behind the counter bore several holes in her ears and tattoos decorating her arms. They were pretty, but I’d never mar my body that way.

“I’d like to get a tattoo please.”

Her eyes traveled over me before she smirked. “Okay, this way.”

After filling out a few forms and signing a waiver, the tattoo artist came in. A burley guy, he was physically intimidating, but his demeanor was pleasant. “Hi, my name is Frank. What kind of tat are you looking for, Miss?” His voice was heavy and sounded like he’d smoked one too many cigarettes.

“Something simple.” I held out my hand and pointed to my ring finger. “I’d like to get a butterfly.”

Frank reached for my hand and examined his canvas. “It’s gonna be small.”

I nodded. “I know, but it means a lot.”

He angled his head and studied me. “Getting a divorce?”

Surprised by his intuitiveness, I nodded and wiped a tear that had snuck out.

He stood and began gathering his instruments. “Sorry to hear that.” He returned with a bottle of disinfectant in his hand. “He must be one dumb son-of-a-bitch.” He winked.

I allowed myself to smile. “Thanks.”

He picked up a book of tattoo designs, turned to the page that showed butterflies, and told me to select the one I wanted. When I did, he removed the book and sat on a rolling chair beside me. Next he cleaned and disinfected the skin of my hand and studied the rainbow pallet of colors.

“Any color in particular you want?”

I surveyed the paint. Even though red was my favorite color, my eyes settled on green, the color of jade.

“Interesting choice for a woman who’s going through a divorce,” Frank said.

“I don’t understand.”

Frank drew the butterfly design on my finger before picking up the tattoo gun and tested the ink on a clean towel. The deep green pigment stained the perfectly white material. “It’s been said the green jade stone represents love and dedication. In fact, the Chinese carve green jade stones into the shape of a butterfly to draw love.”

“I never heard of that before.”

“Who knows, for a pretty lady like you, it might bring you some good luck.” He focused his attention on my finger and went to work.

Jaded. That description summed up my life. My past experience with romance left me worn out and wary, unable to trust my heart to love.

Then Zack walked into my life and changed everything. And now, even he was gone.

I watched Frank complete his masterpiece. The little needle puncturing my skin hurt like hell, but it would never hurt more than my aching heart.

Chapter 41

Two Months Later…

“Mr. Givens, did you hear me?”

“What?” I blinked and focused on the new hire sitting in front of me.

“I asked what day you want me to start.” He stared at me. “Are you okay, sir?”

“Sorry about that,” I leaned forward to focus on my job. “It’s been a long day.”

Before long the new hire, Tim, walked out of my office. I closed the door behind him. My attention shot over to the envelope sitting on the corner of my desk. ‘Divorce’ screamed in big red letters on the legal paper.

Yasmine hadn’t been kidding.

What else could I have expected? After a week of barely communicating with her I left that door open.

What the hell was my problem? Why couldn’t I forgive her? No matter how much I tried to ignore it, I needed her. What she did was wrong and would forever leave me wondering what would have happened if I had known the truth. Would spending extra time with my mother have been to either of our benefit? Or were they both right knowing it would be best for all of us for me to move on with my life before she died?

Yasmine kept me afloat; there was no doubt about that. Since moving out, I’d been unable to find a way to keep my head above water. Yasmine was my life vest.

The arrival of the divorce papers this morning was a reminder of reality.

I knew the moment she put the ring on the mantel she was going to suggest separation…but divorce? A complete dissolution of our marriage?

The fact she made the decision without at least one more conversation about what was going on between us left me speechless.

Who was I kidding; ‘conversation’ could hardly describe our last meeting. I didn’t say a damn thing. What leg did I have to stand on to beg her to stay? My last words to her had been, ‘I don’t know what I want to do about our relationship’.

Did I still love her? Hell yes. No other woman could have my heart. I would never be with another. In the end, I was the idiot who walked out on us. At first, I had to. I had to keep my anger in check in order to avoid saying something neither of us could recover from. But in doing so, I created a bigger gap. I became the coward who wanted to live in my past.

Exactly what my mother predicted.

Why had it taken two months to realize she was right?

Studying the photos of my family history proved one thing: the love between my parents was strong. Memories of the way they gazed at each other lovingly across the breakfast table in the morning, the way they held hands when walking in the park, the late night laughter I could hear when I was in my bed…those were the things I wanted with Yasmine. We had that type of connection…one that could be lasting if we worked on it.

Now it would never happen because I refused to get past her mistake.

She hadn’t cheated, hadn’t outright lied….only done what she thought was best for me. Because she loved me.

I reached for the papers on my desk. My wife was gone, my marriage destroyed. And the hope I’d clung to weeks ago of starting a family was ruined.

I ground the heel of my palm into my eyes to stave off the pain of the bass drum in my head.

Our goal of starting a family had been reached; Yasmine was pregnant. How could we go from four days of wedded bliss, to a week of living hell, and divorce, and think we’d remain civil enough to raise our child in separate homes? Neither of us had experienced that type of upbringing. Why make our child suffer? I had no intention of being a part-time father and I didn’t want full custody alone.

And, I damn sure didn’t want to watch Yasmine marry another man and give him access to raising my child.

Amicable divorce or not, I wanted my wife.

I grabbed my cell off my desk and hit speed dial, then immediately disconnected. This conversation needed to be held in person.

I checked the time. Yasmine would be at work, so I called her job. She was there, but would be off in a few hours. I thanked the person who answered the phone, and asked them to keep my inquiry private. I didn’t want to run the risk she’d learn I was on my way and decide to leave early.

I gathered my things and shut off the light in my office. “Dale, I’ve got to get out of here early. Do you think you can close tonight?”

“Sure, Zack, no problem. Is everything okay?”

“It will be if my plan works,” I muttered, patting him on the shoulder in thanks. “I’ve got to get my wife back.”

***

Forty-five minutes later, I parked in the driveway of my mother’s house and climbed out of my car. There were two things I needed in order to convince Yasmine to stay with me: her ring and the letter I found.

The letter from my mother was written the day of our wedding. I ran across it after Yasmine’s last visit. It had been tucked away in a photo album with pictures of my parents’ wedding. No doubt, my mother knew I’d find it.

In it she stated she was happy I had found Yasmine and knew from the moment I brought her to the house that she’d be the perfect wife. She blessed our marriage and prayed we would work to hold it together through whatever problems we encountered. In the end she stated that in no way should I ever doubt Yasmine’s love. She was convinced she would do whatever it took to take care of me and our family for the rest of our lives.

I took it as her cryptic way of saying I should forgive her for keeping her demise a secret.

It was the last piece of sound advice my mother would ever give me.

I hoped it wouldn’t be too late.

I was in and out in record time. Part of me wanted to stop and buy her a bouquet of calla lilies she loved. That would be corny. I didn’t need flowers to prove my love. I needed the ring I gave her when I pledged my love before God and family.

Determined to reach her while I knew where she was, I forced myself to sit in traffic and remain as patient as possible.

After what felt like forever, I reached my turn at the intersection where lights flashed. The normal traffic rules were pushed aside and traffic had to work as a four-way-stop. No wonder it was backed up; some people forgot the rules.

I scanned the intersection and saw a car waiting on the right side, while the left side was clear.

Halfway into the intersection, a horn blared, and brakes squealed.

There was nothing I could do except brace for impact.

Chapter 42

“Yasmine, you are amazing when it comes to working with customers. Your customer requests are starting to outnumber the ones of some of our more seasoned consultants.” Mrs. Caulfield, my boss at the high-end retail establishment I worked, beamed. “And the way you handled Mrs. Schultz…you need a raise! That woman is a walking diva nightmare.”

“Thank you,” I forced myself to smile at the accolades. It was hard to find joy in my job when the rest of my life seemed to be in the crapper.

The past is the past. Move on already. No looking back
.

Absently, I ran my finger over the jade butterfly tattoo.

Change.

I am no longer the woman I was two months ago.

“If you don’t have any more appointments today, you can go home early if you’d like.”

“Sounds good to me.” I clocked out on the main computer and headed for my car.

I sent my brother a text message and let him know I was on my way. Though I appreciated staying with him, I knew it infringed on his love life. For the past two months I’d put off finding a new place, unable to believe my marriage was over.

But reality was reality.

The tattoo artist Frank’s revelation of the significance of the jade butterfly had not proven to be true.

Tomorrow was Saturday, my day off. It was time to find an apartment and move my things out of storage.

The sooner the dust settled, the sooner I could focus on the rest of my life.

Neither Brandon nor my parents were happy to learn of my impending divorce. They wanted details I refused to give. Maybe in time, but for now, I needed their continued support.

Behind the wheel, my eyes went to the time on the dashboard. It was nearly 4 P.M. I had avoided checking the time all day. The divorce moderator said the papers would be delivered to Zack’s job by lunchtime.

And as expected, I hadn’t received so much as a phone call or text. So much for hoping he wanted me to stay.

Traffic flowed well for the first three miles of my journey to Brandon’s apartment. I groaned in realization that in avoiding watching the clock, I also skipped my lunch break. My stomach growled, meaning food was no longer an avoidable subject. I contemplated what I wanted for dinner as an ambulance rushed past.

Great, there was an accident, which meant the already slow moving traffic would now go even slower.

After fifteen minutes, I was close enough to see what was going on. Fire trucks, police cars, and the ambulance were blocking the intersection as the traffic lights flashed. And of course, there were the “rubberneckers” who ignored the officer who directed traffic and had to see what was going on.

Unable to do anything but wait for the onlookers to push ahead, I studied the scene as well. An overturned car rested on its roof, having sustained heavy damage. Another car sat nearby with its front end crunched like an accordion. I cringed and hoped the passengers of both vehicles were okay. Absently, I adjusted my seatbelt.

As I got closer, I studied the overturned vehicle. It was missing a door, as if it were removed to rescue the driver. The trunk lid was mangled beyond recognition, its contents littering the street. Something in the litter drew my attention; I slammed on my brakes, the drivers behind me leaned on their horns.

In the middle of the broken glass and metal lay an embroidered laptop bag sporting the Sal-U-Tek logo. My heart froze.

“Zack…”

I leaned on my horn and forced the cars ahead of me out of the way. I stopped on the side of the road as soon as I passed the officer who directed traffic. I threw the gear into park and ran towards the mangled car.

“Whoa! Miss, you can’t come over here, it’s not safe.” The officer stepped in front of me, blocking my view.

Tears fell uncontrollably. “I’ve got to get to him! That’s my husband’s car!” I pushed past the officer and spied the mangled license plate; it was the confirmation I needed. “Oh my God! Zack! Where is he?”

The officer ran behind me and grabbed my arm before I reached a puddle of gasoline on the ground.

“Ma’am, you can’t go over there. We’ve already had to put out one fire.” He forced me to return to my car.

“Where is my husband?” I gripped the officer’s forearms and held on for dear life.

Fire? Missing door…I searched the area and spied the ambulance that rushed past me. A woman was loaded into the rear. There wasn’t another ambulance on the scene nor did I see Zack anywhere.

At my car, the officer opened my door and helped me into the driver’s seat. My knees were shaking so bad that it was a wonder I had been able to walk. He reached over his shoulder and grabbed the handset attached to his uniform.

“Okay, I need you to answer some questions for me. Can you do that?”

I nodded and forced myself to breathe. My nails dug into my palms as I sought to get a grip. My eyes stayed on Zack’s car.

“Alright, first, what is your name?”

“Yasmine Givens.”

“Okay, Mrs. Givens, you’re sure that’s your husband’s car?”

“Yes, I saw his laptop bag on the ground…underneath the trunk when I passed. He works for Sal-U-Tek, he’s a manager.”