The Butterfly Effect

-1-

The woman gazed out her window in a trance, her eyes glazed and her chin resting lightly on her hand. There was rarely time nowadays to think of nothing and appreciate the silence. The wind flowed through her cracked open windows at her dark hair. She closed her eyes, breathing in the scents of approaching spring. The plants under her window rustled and she draped her other hand down, brushing the silky beginnings of a flower. The petals appeared to be veined, a river of life running through the plant, like blood.

"Valerie!" a man's stern voice called, jerking the woman back into reality. She swiveled around in her black leather chair, facing the source of the voice. "I asked you a question."

Valerie rubbed her eyes and blinked. This was the first time today that he talked to her, except for a quick "hello" in the morning. "Sorry, you were saying?"

"I asked you when the trial date is," the man said. Valerie pursed her lips in mock frustration.

"Shouldn't you know this? You're the prosecutor," she answered, yet still shuffling through papers. "In one week." The man nodded, turning his attention back to his computer. Valerie observed him for a while. His slender fingers rapped on his keyboard, dim green eyes lit only by the glow of the computer screen. His unhealthily pale skin drooped with sleepless nights, and his greasy brown hair neglected for days.

"Simon," she said hesitantly. The man looked up. "Do you really think he did it?" He shrugged: an action that took a lot of energy.

"The case was given to us, so we have to prosecute him. It isn't our place to decide if he really did it. Plus, all the evidence points to him, so there's no reason to doubt it." Valerie bit her lip to stop a retort from bursting from them.

"Alright," she said simply, returning to her place next to the window. The sunset blazed vividly, penetrating the wispy clouds. Valerie let the sun's rays drape over her, enveloping her in a blanket of warmth that drained into her pores.

She hoped they could get the trial over with as quickly as possible. Simon believed he was doing the right thing. Yet, when Valerie went over the reports, again and again, she found more holes, more missing pieces. Things seemed to come to them too smoothly, evidence flooding in. But she didn't want to point it out, it would be hopeless anyway. Simon was always so sure of himself. If Valerie said anything that contradicted his views, he would shred her opinions to pieces. She guessed that that was what made him a good prosecutor.

Valerie sighed deeply and stood up, gathering her belongings. Simon had fallen asleep, drooling on his papers, knocked out by the full force of sleep deprivation. Valerie rolled her eyes, sliding the papers out from under his head before leaving. She waved goodbye to the receptionist and denied her offer of a cookie. Valerie was always telling Lillie to cut down on sweets, but she still continued restocking the growing stash she kept hidden under the desk.

"Actually," Valerie turned around and grabbed the cookie from Lillie's hand, stopping it on its path to her mouth. "I'll take that. One less cookie for you." Valerie gave a wink and turned to take her usual route home, through the still bustling streets.

The aroma of food drifted from the street stalls, wrapping her in a familiarity that comforted her as she walked alone. The small city lit up with string lights and lamps, gently illuminating the road and shops for travelers. Food vendors beckoned to pedestrians with their booming voices, looking to attract them with their talk of the best cuisine in the country. She stopped to chat with Mrs. Inigo, the owner of the kebab stand.

They would talk about where Mrs. Inigo's daughter, Lara, was headed at that moment and how they thought she was doing over a few kebabs and a can of beer. Lara had been there all of Valerie's life, offering a comforting shoulder and giving advice—however stupid it may have been. She was basically a protective big sister. Now that she was flying all over the world, she rarely had time to contact them. Sometimes Valerie envied her best friend for her seemingly carefree job. She would scroll through the pictures Lara would occasionally send her from all kinds of destinations. The lulling blue sea waving and the rolling hills beckoning made Valerie want to drop everything and leave. But that was a kind of freedom Valerie could never begin to afford, especially not now.

Valerie slipped her payment into Mrs. Inigo's apron pocket while she wasn't looking and continued on her way, hoping Jackson had finished his homework diligently and wasn't wasting his time watching TV. His babysitter must have left already, leaving Jackson alone with the freedom to use the TV. Her hopes vanished as she turned the key to her apartment; she could already hear the chatter of cartoons. The metal screen clattered as she closed the door, signaling her arrival.

"Jacky!" she said, dismayed at catching her son lounging on the couch, digging into a large bag of Hot Cheetos. "Didn't I tell you to stop eating so many chips?" Her son sat up quickly, pushing the bag aside as if that would obscure his actions.

"You finish them before I can touch the bag," he complained. Valerie rolled her eyes and snatched the bag away, popping a few Cheetos in her mouth before placing it back into the cupboard. Jackson was fairly skinny for a five-year-old, but Valerie could tell there was fat building.

"Did you finish your homework?" she asked, hanging her blazer up.

"Yeah. Easy," he said simply, digging through his bag to pull out a few crumpled pieces of paper. Valerie frowned at its condition but didn't express her dismay. She should be satisfied that Jackson even finished his homework by the time she got home.

"Do you want me to correct it?" Valerie asked, returning it. She had spotted a few minor mistakes, but he was still young, and it was inevitable.

"It's okay," Jackson replied, focused solely on the TV. Valerie sighed dramatically and plopped down on the reclining chair, pulling out her laptop. A text popped up, and Valerie opened it, already dreading the content. Her ex-husband had asked again to spend a day with Jackson. Grant was a good father, but he spoiled Jackson too much. While Valerie wanted Jackson to at least understand what he's learning, Grant always stressed the motto of "living in the moment" and made sure Jackson was always having fun. Jackson probably got all of his lazy habits from Grant. Valerie typed up a reply.

Again? You took him to the movies last week. A text from Grant came almost right away.

He deserves to have time to relax. Valerie wanted to slap him through the screen. All Jackson did at home was watch TV, then play video games, then watch more TV. He probably spent only 5% of his waking hours on educational topics.

Where?  She texted back.

Soccer. Playing, not watching. Don't worry. Valerie let out a sigh of relief. Jacky did need time outside, and this could help him start exercising and enjoying sports. Valerie knew that although Jackson always told her he was out playing basketball, he was playing video games with his friends. When Grant challenged her, she brushed him off. It was the instinct of a prosecutor. That was how she'd detected her ex-husbands lies... eventually.

I'll drop him off in the morning. Valerie was about to shut her computer when a notification popped up: a news article about Bruce Arlington sexually assaulting one of his guests. Oh, that's interesting, Valerie thought. She was surprised newspapers had only just found out since the date in the article said the assault happened over a year ago. She wondered if the woman sued or would sue. It would be weird suing a dead guy, though.