Collection of Short Stories

BUTTERFLIES FOR IRIS

It was a day made for history; or at least, Andrea's history. The sky was gloomy and the rain fell in a slight drizzle, which really fit for today. Andrea trudged up the hill, her melancholy mood in obvious companionship with the weather. She sat down once she reached the top under "their" tree, overlooking the great expanse of land before her; Butterfly Hill. Well, that's what they had named it as children. Andrea wasn't sure if the place had an actual name, but as always it brought her a sense of peace as soon as she was there.

The view was graceful, in a way, with the grass always being an almost unnatural green and sunflowers covering the ground every summer. The tree was their favorite spot, however, because it was where the butterflies always seemed to migrate. Andrea wasn't sure what so many butterflies would be doing in a place like this, but every June they came without fail. Today really came at the perfect time because she needed them now more than ever.

Shortly after she had arrived the sky looked like it was on it's way to clearing up. As she settled Andrea pulled a blanket out of her bag, along with the notebook and pen she had brought. Opening up the notebook she took a deep breath and started writing.

Dear Iris,

Wow. I can't believe how surreal this all feels. It seems like just yesterday we were laying on this same blanket, telling our secrets and watching the butterflies. I know that won't, and can't, happen anymore, but for now I'm just going to pretend you're with me. I can still hear your gasp of excitement when you would see the first of the butterflies, and the way you would poke my side to make sure I was watching. You always did find them more breathtaking than me, but I suppose it fits. I still remember that phase you went through where you were obsessed with words and their meanings; language always fascinated you.

"Rainbow," was the first word you said to me as you climbed through my window (you never listened to me when I told you that it was dangerous, and you shouldn't be doing it). "Iris means rainbow in Greek, isn't that magnificent?"

You always used words like that to describe things. Magnificent, brilliant, beautiful, glorious, etc. Everything was positive in your eyes - I think that's what I loved most about you. You were right, though; rainbow was the perfect word to describe you. No matter what the situation was, you would always try your best to make everyone's day better; you were a real life rainbow. I remember that you then proceeded to tell me that although my name was Andrea, you secretly believed that my very Greek parents had meant to name me Andra, which probably wasn't a very far fetched assumption. According to you that meant "strong and courageous" and although I vehemently denied this, you thought it described me perfectly too.

Now that I think about it though, I always tried my best to be strong for you. You brought sunshine to everyone else, but I know that you had a hard time being positive for yourself once the news came. That was another day I'll never forget. You had been in remission for 9 years, everyone thought that the cancer coming back was impossible. You were 17 years old and on your way to graduating and going to college, leading a normal life.

I was so resentful towards your parents then, and I know now that was wrong. We could all see your bruises appearing again and how pale you had gotten. It wasn't their fault that they wanted to believe their little girl was still healthy, that they wouldn't have to see her suffering again. That was the biggest problem; that they had waited so long to get you to the doctor, and by then it was too late. I'm not sure how much you remember from the past few months. Everything just seemed to happen instantaneously. The cancer was too far along for treatment, so you got moved to that hospital bed in your "conservatory" as you used to call it. I'm glad that you got to spend your last days in there though, so you were never far from the sun.

For three months (three fleeting, far from wonderful months) I visited you everyday after school. For the first month you were still very much yourself, although I can't forget how incredibly tiny you looked. You had always been very petite, but in that bed you looked like a child, especially with your ever innocent face. I still joked with you unfailingly though, the one thing you could always count on from me. I would tell you a whimsical story from school, bring you pictures, and my mom would also send over desserts that went ultimately uneaten. You never saw it but I was petrified. My best friend was dying and there was absolutely nothing I could do except spend as much time as possible with you, and wait.

The last month was especially bad. You slept most of the time so usually I would sit and hold your hand as tightly as possible. I still talked to you, and sometimes you would be coherent enough to talk back. I still made sure I never broke in front of you though; you needed me to be strong and I was. For just once in my life I did live up to "my" name (because you never did stop calling me Andra). I sat by you through your last days, never losing my fear but also knowing that it had to happen. 

That day, your last day, will stay with me for the rest of my life. I can still feel your fingers, weakly gripping mine. Your brow was furrowed as you tried to work up the energy to say something. I leaned close, your whisper broken and feeble, but still acutely you. "Andra... take me to the butterflies..." That was it. The last sentence I would hear from you, the last time I would feel your hand gripping mine. And although it was just technically just the beginning for us, the pain was finally over for you. 

The funeral was beautiful; or as beautiful as a funeral can be. The weather was forlorn, just like the rest of us. Everyone said great things about you, but really, how could they not? You were the light of everyone's life, and although we were supposed to stay best friends forever, I know that you'll never really leave me. So here we are now, with me telling you this on our hill. I'm just doing what you asked now - bringing you to the butterflies. I can feel you in the air around me, and I hope you know that I'll never forget you.

Love, Andrea

And as she finished writing the last letter, the sun started to appear from behind her tree. Andrea looked up just in time to see the butterflies rising from the leaves above her head, swirling around her before starting to fly off. They seemed to be every color imaginable, bringing a sense of peace with them as they flew. She stood up then, realizing that the butterflies were flying towards a rainbow; the silver lining after the storm. And in that moment she knew that she would be okay; her best friend was always watching.