“You’re mean to him,” I told my mother as I tapped the phone on its base; Her last words to my father were: “I’ll call the police for harassment if you call again!”
“I want to talk to dad,” I told him. “Call him. I want to talk to him.”
You’re not supposed to call here.
“Why not?”
“Because I don’t want him to.”
“Because?” My voice rose a bit.
“Because I said.”
“Aim… “
“No goals. You’ll see him in a few days for spring break,” my mother said through tight lips.
“Aim… “
“Enough, Roberta, end of discussion.”
The doorbell rang and she waved me away as she opened the door to greet Aunt Karen, who was visiting from Arizona with our mail in hand. They greeted each other and she left the correspondence on the Mission desk. “Looks like there’s one from the ex,” she said.
“Hopefully it’s child support,” Mia said.
Karen leaned in to give me a hug and a kiss, “What’s with the long face, honey?”
“My mom won’t let me talk to my dad,” I said with quivering lip and chin.
Noticing her sister rolling her eyes, Karen kissed the top of my head and said, “I’ll tell you what, I’m buying you lunch this weekend.”
“I’m going to see my dad this weekend,” I told him.
“Then we’ll do it next weekend. Just the two of us,” she said. “We’ll have fun, I promise, it’s okay.”
“Well.”
“Now go play outside with your dog while your mom and I catch up.”
“Well.”
Instead of going outside, I went to my room until I heard their voices fade into the study. Then I went straight to the phone and dialed my dad’s number. Afraid of getting caught, I missed a couple of times with a shaky hand. I am not allowed to use the phone without permission and have also been prohibited from calling him.
“Hello.” I heard her tender voice on the other end.
“Dad,” I replied. Suddenly, the phone is snatched from my sweaty hand once more.
My mother said: “What are you doing?” Enraged, she hung up on my father.
“I was just…”
“Do not lie to me”. She cut me off, the intensity of her anger rising with every word she said. “You ruined it, you’re not going to see your father anymore. Go to your room and don’t come out until I call you. Do you understand?”
I tossed the mail off the desk onto the brown Mexican tile floor. I ran out into the backyard.
Hitting my toe on a patch of crabgrass, I fell and scraped my knees on the unforgiving abrasive ground. My tears flowed unrestrained. They are not from the sting of the sand granules embedded in my flesh, but from a torn heart.
Rolling around on my hands and knees, Monarch, my black Labrador retriever, nuzzled me with a wet nose of empathy. He watched the tears that fell freely from the cleft of my sunburned cheeks, bombarding the abandoned floor.
“I miss him,” I said into his raised ear. He groaned and stroked me again.
I sat cross-legged in a faded green T-shirt, elbows resting on skinned knees; sticking out through freshly ripped jeans and my head resting on my hands. I saw a blue Adonis bush that I planted with my father last year in the corner of the coyote-fenced yard. Its cocoons are breaking through the shells of hibernation and will soon attract a large number of butterflies.
It’s amazing how my dad turned the desert floor into a paradise of lustrous green foliage dotted with red, blue, and purple flowers where hummingbirds and butterflies quenched their thirst with sweet nectar from the flower holes.
I remember swinging on the porch swing with my dad’s arm around me and asking him, “Dad, how come there aren’t any yellow flowers? You know that’s my favorite color.”
“Because when the swallowtails appear, their yellow wings will stand out from the other colors. You’ll appreciate the yellow color much more, you’ll see.”
A few days later, we were weeding the garden when a bright yellow spot caught my eye on the Adonis.
“Look, dad, look!” He said pointing to the fanned wings.
My dad leaned in close to me and whispered, “Did you know that when you see a yellow swallowtail it means someone is thinking of you and has sent you a butterfly kiss?”
“How do you know who smells it?” I asked.
“Whoever you think of first when you see one.”
“Even if it’s Monarch?”
“Even if it’s Monarch.”
Soliloquy: “I’m sending my dad a butterfly kiss.” I ran into the mail strewn across the tiled floor and pulled out the envelope with my father’s return address on it. I took a sheet of paper, a stamp and an envelope from the desk drawer and went to my room.
In my bedroom I very carefully drew yellow butterflies on the paper and signed it Butterfly kisses, love Roberta. After I went to the mailbox to send it off, Karen met me at the front door.
“I have good news pumpkin,” he said, “your mom will let me take you to see your dad for lunch this weekend.”
A few days later, at the City Limits Bistro, I saw my dad sitting on the patio and I ran into his open arms and yelled, “Dad, dad!”
He lifted me onto his lap, kissed me, and with tears in his eyes said, “I’ve missed you so much.”
“Did you receive my letter?” I asked.
“I have it pinned to my wall. I have something for you,” he said, handing me a beautifully wrapped gift.
I opened the package and discovered a wonderful surprise. Framed in a shadow box was a yellow swallowtail with its wings spread wide. The etched brass plate at the bottom read: Kisses, Love Daddy. This choked me with tears of joy.
He took me in his arms and said: “When you look at it hanging on your wall, it will remind you that I am always thinking of you with love.”
Two swallowtails danced over our heads. “This is the best day of my life,” I told him, and kissed him goodbye.