The Evolution of a Drowning Butterfly

Chapter Eight

Gabby showed up around 2:45, and took the twins to their room to play. Jay was only five minutes behind her. He knocked on the door instead of ringing the bell, which I found odd. I looked through the peephole. There stood Jay, purple carnations in hand, a bright smile on his face. I stifled my grin, and opened the door.

"Well, you look way better than me," he said, chuckling slightly, looking me up and down.

I didn't know how to respond, so I just smiled at my feet. And blushed.

"And I thought you might, so I brought some of my sister's old clothes for you to wear," he said, thrusting the plaid button-down and jeans with frayed ends into my arms.

I gave him a quizzical look and was about to ask why when he cut me off with, "My grandpops owns a farm and we're helping him out today."

I laughed to myself and shook my head. What had I gotten myself into?

Jay stuck his arm out like one of those fancy chauffeurs, and led me to his old pickup, rust glinting off the surface. He helped inside before plopping down in the driver's seat.

"Those should fit you," he said, pointing to a pair of black rubber boots, "What size do you wear?"

"Seven and a half."

"Those are eights," he said, obviously pleased with his judgement.

Now, let me make something clear. I was born in the city, raised in the city. I had only just moved to a small town, and I had definitely never laid eyes on a farm, except, of course, in movies. I soon came to realize that movies and the real thing were vastly different.

We passed convenient stores after convenient store, until finally, the only things left that even hinted to civilization were spread out, wooden power lines. The trees became the constant view out the window, passing by with a swish-like movement.

Eventually, after what felt like an hour of trees, we stopped outside a little old farm house, seemingly perfect for the little old man I saw guarding the doorway. The house was cherry red, small, and fit for the country.

I began to step out onto the property, and caught myself before my ballet flat hit the mud-caked ground.

"I would go ahead and put the boots on," Jay chuckled.

I reached in the back for the boots, which were already caked in a fine layer of mud, and tugged them on. I grabbed my phone and Jay's sister's clothes, and we headed to the front door to greet Jay's grandfather.

You know when you see a little old man, and you think he looks just adorable? That's what Jay's grandpops looked like. He had a big semi-toothless grin and thin gray hair slicked back under his cap. He was dressed so stereotypically with his overalls and plaid, I couldn't help but smile and laugh.

"Jay," he said like simply Jay's name made him proud, and then he gave him a big bear hug.

Jay smiled and said, "Grandpops, this is Rose. I thought maybe she could help us today."

"Sure, sure. We can always use more help, can't we?" he said.

"She needs to change. Is it okay if she uses your bathroom?" Jay asked for me.

"Sure, sure. You two come on in," Jay's grandpops said, motioning for us to follow him.

As I walked into the house, I was thrown into another generation. Outdated furniture followed by outdated appliances.

I strolled past old pictures, and before I knew it, my hand was reaching out to the side of a frame. A picture of a woman looking immensely happy with a little girl in her arms stared back at me.