Once Upon an Island

25

I makemyself the largest pot of Jamaican Blue Mountain coffee the world has ever seen and then I get busy.

My first order of business is to get rid of the cardboard box full of Theo’s stuff. I throw it into the trash. It hits the bottom of the can with a satisfying thud. I really don’t want to be tethered down anymore by assumptions and judgments and prejudices.

In fact, my own inaction and pre-judgments over the last few years, and especially over the last month, have left me worse for wear. It’s time to fix that.

So, I pour myself another full mug of steaming black coffee, sit at the kitchen table and open my laptop. Then I start a brand new lifestyle article.

I’m tired of assumptions, and unasked questions, and misjudgments. That way of living hasn’t worked out for me. Instead, I’m going to be direct and forthright and as honest as I can, and see what happens. I made a mistake, and I want to try my best to remedy it.

That’s all anyone can do. If you make a mistake, admit it, and then try your best to fix it.

I begin to type.

Three hourslater I have an article.

I also have two friends banging on my front door.

I ignore them and hit send on my article.

“Isla, hurry up. It’s the butterflies.”

I restrain a smile.

That’s Arya, she always goes bonkers on the first day of butterfly season. And apparently, that’s today.

We never know when it’s going to arrive, which makes it even better when it happens. Usually it’s in March or April. Years ago, we started the tradition of dropping whatever we were doing and getting together to watch the butterflies flit about. Kate always said it’s like standing in the middle of a snowstorm. I always thought it was like being inside a snow globe with thousands of butterflies floating around you. Sometimes they fly so close you can feel the beat of their wings kissing your face. It’s magical. It’s also why the Spanish explorers that discovered our island called it Mariposa. The butterflies were here hundreds of years ago too.

The banging on my front door continues.

“Come on, Isla. I know you’re in there. Don’t make me come get you.” That’s Renee. Obviously.

I shut my laptop and look down at my outfit. Jean shorts, pink tank top, flip flops — good enough.

I hurry to my living room and swing open the front door.

It’s a little past three, the sky is bright denim blue and a gentle breeze tugs at my hair. The perfect day for butterflies. Still, I scowl at my friends.

“You couldn’t text?”

Arya’s eyes are bright and she’s bouncing up and down on her toes. “No, I couldn’t text. Are you crazy? Come on. My boss spotted thousands of them at the preserve. It’s like Christmas.”

I glance at Renee and raise an eyebrow. “Are you seeing this?”

Renee smirks, “Kids these days.”

But I can tell she’s as excited as Arya, she just does a better job of holding in her enthusiasm.

“You took off work?” I ask Renee.

She scoffs and then brushes off her black business suit. “It’s my one personal day a year. Darn straight I took off work.”

I grin at them both. Then, because I’m just as excited as they are, I squeal and start to hop up and down.

Arya drives like a maniac toward the preserve.

“I’m so glad this didn’t happen while we were in England,” she says.

“I’m so glad you didn’t run off with Percy,” Renee says. “Then it would’ve been just me and Isla with the butterflies.” She winks at me, so I stick my tongue out at her.

“I wouldn’t have. I’m over Percy. Completely, totally, one hundred percent over…Percy?” Arya’s voice rises in shock.

We’re at the nature preserve.

And sure enough, a slightly sunburned, hopeful-looking Percy is looking toward Arya’s car.

“Darn,” Renee says. “He actually came back.”

Arya pulls to a stop. She glances at me with wide eyes and lets out a stunned breath.

“You’re not over him,” I say.

“Not even a little,” she whispers.

Percy hesitantly holds up a hand toward Arya. A small, questioning wave.

Arya grips the steering wheel. “What if he leaves again?”

Renee snorts. “Arya. Boobies mate for life.”

I stifle a laugh.

Arya gives us a smile that reminds me of how happy she is when she sees the butterflies, only more. Much more.

“Go on then,” I say.

She nods and then she’s racing out of the car. A few feet from Percy she slows to a stop.

All of a sudden Percy grabs Arya, and he’s hugging her, and kissing her and then…

“Wow,” Renee says.

“That’s a big ring,” I say.

Percy’s down on his knees.

We can see the glint of the ring thirty feet away.

“Do you think she’ll say yes?” Renee asks.

I laugh.

Arya pulls Percy up from his knees and they’re kissing and… “I don’t think we should be watching this,” I say.

“Agreed.”

We turn aside and look out the window toward the edge of the preserve.

“I wonder what made Percy come back,” Renee says.

I look out over the tall grass bowing in the breeze. It’s green like the grass in England and green like Declan’s eyes when he’s happy.

“I do too,” I say.

I do too.