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Butterfly Memories

I wake up dazed, unsure of where I am and it feels as if I am perhaps new to life. I don’t sit up straight away; instead I lie here for a bit longer. I notice that I am in a double bed. I can feel that someone is next to me; the sheets are crumpled and unmade, also there is the faint outline of where a head would have been on the other pillow, however there is no one next to me, the other half of the bed is empty.
Gently rising, I sit up to gain a better view of my surroundings in the low light of the room. On each side of the bed, there is a bedside table. I reach over to the other bedside table to turn on the lamp and I notice that there is a digital alarm clock and I can see the time glowing on the screen is 6:57am. On the bedside table closest to me, there is a pair of black framed glasses. I try them on and everything becomes blurry and out of focus. These glasses can’t be mine, so I take them off and place them back where they were. I manoeuvre out of the fresh, white bed and stand wondering what to do next. I easily find the en suite bathroom, which is tiled white and the lighting is perfect so that it does not reflect too much of the white surfaces. I take a hot shower and think about how I am feeling. I don’t know how to describe how I am feeling; I don’t have the right words to use, but it is a negative feeling that I would much prefer not to have.
I look into the mirror as I shave the stubble away from my face and brush my teeth. I scrutinize my face and see dusky brown hair with dark eyes and a shaded complexion.
Once I am finished in the bathroom I walk towards the built in wardrobe and slide the door open uneasily. On one half I am faced with a woman’s clothing and on the other half I can see what must be my clothing. I pick out an expensive looking pair of jeans and an open neck black shirt. After dressing, I follow my curiosity and descend down the stairs and am greeted by an elegant woman; she kisses me on the cheek “Do you mind taking the kids to school today at 8:30? It’s your day off and I have a meeting first thing this morning.” This woman must be my wife. She is dressed in a grey suit with a fitted, white blouse. She has long, brown hair and a radiant face. She is wearing black framed glasses. “Sure, that’s fine. Have a good meeting” I say.
It’s coming up to 8 o’clock now, so I find my way to the front door where I find a shoe rack and put on a pair of black leather shoes. I head back towards the kitchen where my wife hands me a pink and a blue lunchbox which are named Isabella and Marcus Wright. These two names are the names of my two children. Not long after, two young children come running up to me with a drawing they have just done. They both have the same colour hair as their mother and they are both in their school uniform, charcoal grey shorts for Marcus and a charcoal grey skirt for Isabella. They are also both wearing scarlet red blazers.
We are all walking to the front door. I am still holding the lunchboxes, the kids have got their school bags and my wife is rummaging around in her bag. She produces two car keys and passes me one of them. A clean black BMW is parked on the driveway, I open the boot to put the schoolbags and lunchboxes in whilst the kids are saying bye to their mum, although they are easily distracted by a colourful butterfly as it flutters past them.
As if I am on some form of automatic mode, I drive straight to the school without having to remember the way and in no time at all I notice that we are sat parked outside the school gates in the car park.
“Daddy, why are we still sitting here?”
“Yeah, Daddy can we get out now”
“Yes of course. Sorry about that. Let me help the both of you out.”
We are walking up to the school entrance door where I will drop them off.
“Daddy do butterflies live in houses?”
“I don’t think so Marcus, I believe that they live outside, but not in a house as such”
“Daddy, can we colour a butterfly in?”
“Sorry Isabella, I’m afraid we can’t do that but when we get home from school, I’m sure we can sort something out, maybe we can do some painting or drawing on paper.”
I hug Isabella and ruffle Marcus’ hair in that way that all fathers do. I assure them that I will be waiting here at 3:30. Whilst walking back to the car, I think back at how the children were distracted by the butterfly and could have watched it all day, or at least until something else caught their eye.
I unlock the car and sit there for a few moments and gather my thoughts. I’m not sure what I should do or where I should go next. I have been in the car for a good twenty minutes now and I have made it to Primrose Hill, I don’t know what drew my attention to this particular place or if it had any significant relevance to me, or perhaps maybe it was a purely random destination where I believe I will be able find myself. I station the car so that it is out of the way and won’t cause any problems, stepping out of the car, I saunter my way to the top of the hill and sit at the highest point I can find.
Although it is a reasonably mild day, I feel chilled as if it is a winter’s day and I am dressed in nothing but a pair of shorts and a t-shirt. This is not true, but it is how I feel. A woman approaches me. She is elderly and has wispy white hair tied back into a ponytail. Without saying anything, she passes me a familiar smile and sits down next to me. There is a silence between us, which may seem awkward to an onlooker or even perhaps if you were to be in this position, although this is not the case at this moment in time, actually quite the opposite, more calming and reassuring.
“So Charlie, how has your day been so far? You do remember me today, don’t you?”
This woman knows my name; I wonder how much she knows about me. I won’t question her as to how she knows me. She comes across as a kind and caring woman with a motherly role in life. Do I remember her?
“I am Ok, thanks, and yourself?”
“Let’s take a walk and we can get a bite to eat or something...”
I think back to this morning, I didn’t have breakfast and I haven’t eaten anything all day, but most of all I could do with the company.
“Sure, why not?”
I stretch as I have been sitting in the same position for a while now and take a glance at my watch. It is 2:23pm, Marcus and Isabella will be finishing school in about an hour.
I continue walking with the woman. We are walking down the street and we stop outside Sami’s Cafe and decide that this would be the ideal place to get a sandwich and a cup of coffee. We go inside and sit there until we have both finished eating.
After, we continue our walk down the street, I see an art and crafts store and think of Isabella’s request to colour in a butterfly.
“Do you mind if we go in there for a few minutes so I can pick up a few things.”
“If you want to, Charlie, but don’t get carried away and please be careful. I don’t want to see you hurt or disappointed.”
“It’s OK, don’t worry, I’ll be fine and I’m not going to get hurt or disappointed. Why don’t you come in with me? Please...”
“Charlie, don’t do this to me, I will wait here for you, I promise, but I don’t want to go in.”
“Please, please come in with me, you can help chose the right sort of things for the kids. Please...”
“Look, Charlie, okay I will go in with you, if it means that much to you. But you can choose things you want.”
I head straight in to the shop after persuading the woman. I go in search for paint and glitter. I also get some pipe cleaners and colourful buttons. I pay for all the items I have gathered, although the elderly woman is questioning me if I am sure about what I am doing. I reassure her that I know what I am doing and it was a good idea me coming here.
I can tell she disagrees, although she does not say this to me. Instead she tells me that I may be better off going home for the day.
We walk back to my car and I thank her for the company and I drive home.
I arrive home and kick my shoes off at the door. I enter the living room and put the TV on but I don’t pay attention to what is on. I don’t want the house to be quiet as if it is empty. As I am about to slump on the sofa, I see a photo of Marcus dressed as Peter Pan standing next to Isabella who is dressed as Tinkerbell. I am reminded of the time when they refused to take off their costumes to go to nursery, so we spent the morning chasing after the two kids who believed they were the cartoon characters, so that we could get them changed and ready to go out.
I can’t handle all the memories this house has. I have to go and find somewhere else. I find my shoes and pick up a jacket that was hanging on the banister. I don’t know where to go. I have nowhere to go.
I stumble out of the front door, but I remain unable to think of a place I could go. I walk down the road although I don’t know where I am going; I just walk and continue to keep walking.
My phone is resting in my top pocket of my shirt and it suddenly awakens with a well known ringtone. The name on the caller ID shows as Grace. I answer and I immediately recognise the voice as being the wispy white haired woman. She sounds worried.
“Charlie...Charlie, Charlie speak to me, say something. Where are you? Please, Charlie.”
I still don’t say anything.
“Please be careful, I don’t want you winding your way in to some form of trouble. I am worried about you; I care for you, Charlie...”
Hearing this, I start crying, I have completely stopped in my tracks, but I am crying, crying uncontrollably.
“Charlie, where are you? I am standing on your doorstep. Please come home, I will come and pick you up if you want...”
Between my struggle to stop and crying and to breathe regularly, I try and speak to Grace.
“Walking...I am down the road...walking...I want to go...find home...find Lizzie...find Marcus and Isabella...find you...”
“Okay Charlie. Don’t worry. I’m coming. I will find you. Hold on. Where are you?”
“On the way to their school”

We are on the way to the twins’ school; it is the annual school production. Lizzie is sitting in the passenger seat and Isabella and Marcus are sitting in the back of the car.
“Both of you put your seatbelts back on please; Mum only just put them on for you. Why did you take them off in the first place? Do we need to stop so you can put them on again?”
“But if we wear them, our costumes will get ruined...”
“Please listen to Dad and put your belts back on.”
“But Mum...”
“Do we need to tell you again, or shall we stop and pullover. We can wait until you decide if you want to put the seatbelts on or go home.”
“This is not the right time for you to argue with Mum and I, and you should not argue about wearing seatbelts anyway. I am going to stop.”
I pull to one side of the road and stop the car. I open the back door to the car and see Isabella and Marcus are sitting there with their arms folded, with a slight arrogance that you may not expect of four year olds.
“Okay you two, I am putting your seatbelts on. Don’t worry your costumes aren’t going to be ruined. It is for your own safety.”
As I close the door, I don’t notice the car coming round the awkward bend in road.
All I can hear is the screeching of tyres on the tarmac road. I turn around to see what is happening. I see a car heading straight for us. I don’t react quickly enough either to help the kids and Lizzie out the car or to move the car in time.
It all happens so suddenly. The car collides into ours.
I rush to open the car doors as the other driver emerges out of his car. I see he is injured but he is alive. He gets his phone out and says he will call 999
My wife’s head is smashed into the dashboard. Blood is running down her face.
“Lizzie, Lizzie, come on Lizzie...Oh God please don’t let it be...”
I can’t find her pulse.
I turn to the kids sat behind her; they look as if they are asleep...
My two lovely children... “Marcus, Isabella”
“Please wake up, Isabella, please say something. Marcus, come on you will be fine, open your eyes...”
I hear the sounds of sirens and see flashing lights.
It’s too late.
It’s just me.

I slump to the ground and cover the pavement. I am still crying and I feel like it has just happened all over again. I lie in the middle of the pavement until I hear footsteps. I don’t want to get up from where I am. It’s Grace, she sits down on the curb next to me. I am so pleased to see her.
“Hi Charlie, I’m glad I found you. Is it alright me sitting here?”
“Hello Grace. I’m happy you came to get me and its fine you sitting here...”
“It is getting quite dark now. Are you cold? Shall we go?”
“Yes, I don’t want to stay here any longer.”
Grace helps me to my feet and we slowly walk back home.
“So Charlie, what were you doing back there? You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to...”
“No, it’s OK, I was remembering, I pictured the crash all over again.”
“I have an idea for when we get home. Do you still have the things you bought today?”
“Yes, they are in the car.”
When we return home, I get the bag from the arts and crafts shop out of the car and we into the house. We sit at the kitchen table and Grace says that we could do pictures of butterflies just like the kids did.
I draw out a butterfly and paint it and then cover it with glitter. I use the pipe cleaners as antennas and stick the buttons on the butterflies’ wings. On one half I write Isabella and on the other half I write Marcus. At the top of the page I write: “For my two angels and my dearest wife, Lizzie. With lots of love Charlie” next to it I draw a smiley face.
Grace says we could go and take it to the cemetery, but wants to go and get something from next door first.
When she comes back, she is holding a picture of Marcus and Isabella dressed in their school play costumes with Lizzie stood behind them. This is the last photo I took of them before the crash. I gave Grace a copy as she has helped so much; she used to look after the kids and even made their costumes.
We put on our coats and left the house. On the way to the cemetery we decided to stop off at the local supermarket to buy a bunch of flowers, a candle and some matches.
We arrive at the cemetery about half an hour later and we approach the area of where Lizzie, Marcus and Isabella are laid to rest. I place the flowers in front on the grave, whilst Grace lights the candle. I put the drawing of the butterfly next to the flowers and Grace also adds the photo to it. We stand there for a few minutes and in the low light of the flickering candle, and we watch a butterfly flutter over the grave.