Inside a simple, run down restaurant in downtown Orlando, two men ate a light lunch. The older read a newspaper while the younger sat, gawking at the recent issue of “Sports Illustrated” he had just picked up along the way. Neither spoke much to each other, they had nothing new to report since the last time they had met, which was yesterday. They didn’t need to use fleeting conversation, they were totally at ease around one another as if they were sitting alone in their very own living room.
“Would you look at that bathing suit,” Justin mumbled, more to himself. “Or lack thereof.”
Chris moved the paper aside to quickly glance down, then returned to his reading. “Seen it.”
“Why, hello Mrs. Timberlake,” Justin spoke to the magazine, “You’re looking awfully tanned today.”
“Slick,” Chris used Justin’s nickname, “You’re seriously freaking me out. I’m going to have to ask you to close the magazine,” he threw his napkin at the boy, “And wipe the drool.”
Justin chuckled and sat back, crossing his fingers over his chest. “By the way, about that bet we had.”
“The Lance and Hazel one?”
“No, the other three hundred dollar bet we made.”
“What about it?” Chris put the newspaper down. “Are you finally giving in and giving me my money?”
His usual mischievous grin passed his face. “I’m not giving in, no. But I am calling it off.”
“You are kidding me, right?”
“Nope.”
“Why?”
“Because you’re going to loose.”
Chris laughed. “Want to run that one by me one more time?”
“It’s to easy,” Justin said with a smug shrug. “The odds are so against you that it’s hardly even a bet anymore, it’s more like you just giving me your money.”
“All right, did something happen that I’m not aware of? Are they together now or something?”
“No. Not yet.”
“Then who told you to be so over-confident?”
“No one did. Just trust me on this one Chris, I know what I’m talking about. Give up.”
“Not a chance,” Chris said stubbornly. “It’s been over one month since they’ve been living together and still nothing has happened and nothing will ever happen. Take off the blinders Justin and try looking at reality for a change.”
“So you’re not going to take the draw?”
“No way.”
Justin grinned again and shrugged. “Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”
~~
He sat Hazel down right in the middle of the white couch in the living room and she watched him spread out books, paper, pencils, pencil sharpener, erasers, index cards, and various other tools onto the table.
“Where’d you get all this stuff?” she asked, bewildered.
“Staples. The sales lady was kind of moody at first, but by the end of our short lived journey she loved me.”
“Seeing how you bought out the whole store, I can see why.”
He laughed and then clapped his hands together. “Let’s begin. What’s the chapter you’re being tested on?”
She showed him the designated pages and explained to him some of the other things they had been learning in class and turned her notes over to him. He studied the pages and the notes carefully, formulated a way to tackle the subject at hand and then put both objects down and started scribbling notes of his own.
After ten minutes, he began. He started out by asking her if any of the subjects or words confused her and she vaguely pointed out and tried to remember those that did. He explained them to her, in intense detail, then quizzed her on it afterwards. He had to explain things twice, sometimes three times, but soon the material was starting to stick.
It continued on like that for hours into the night. He wrote up flashcards, asked her questions, pulled out all of the memorization skill games he had used in school, and above all explained it to her. He would always stop to make sure she was understanding him, and when she said no, he went back again without showing any signs of fatigue or frustration with her. He was completely patient.
Somehow, he was also able to read her face and tell if her concentration was wavering or her attention was deteriorating and being pulled to something else. He would transition into small talk with her, asked if she wanted a break, told jokes, and entertained her while also keeping to the studying. He knew which methods to use on her, he understood and helped her more than any other teacher she had ever had in her entire life.
When he announced the session was over, she was almost sad. “Oh, we’re done?”
“For tonight, yes. I hope this helped you.”
He had no clue as to how much he helped her. Not just with school but with everything else, her life, her self-esteem, her self-worth. Just his presence in the room helped her in ways she didn’t quite comprehend. All she said was, “It did.”
He stretched and then stood up. “Want to study again tomorrow night?”
She nodded.
“All right. I’m going to bed now. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Until then,” she whispered and watched him disappear into the rec. room.
~~
During the next night, while quizzing her with the flashcards, the doorbell rang.
When Lance opened the door he was shocked to find JC standing outside. “Hey! What are you doing here?”
JC stepped inside. “Just wondering if I could help with the study sessions. That is, if it’s ok with you guys.”
“Fine with me,” Lance said. JC hardly ever participated in anything anymore that didn’t have to do with the studio. He barely even went outside and Lance couldn’t remember the last time he was at his apartment.
Hazel was indifferent. “Whatever.”
The three of them picked up where the first two had ended. JC’s insight was hesitant at first, but them he started feeling more welcomed and fit right in. When Hazel was truly confused over something, Lance and JC talked it through with her, bouncing off of each other naturally as if they were just one teacher talking. Hazel could see the connection between them, how close they must have been, although Lance claimed to be not to close to any of the other four. They were exactly in tune with each other, totally on the same level.
Eventually they found their way to the kitchen counter, the session over.
“So then,” JC told Hazel, “While he’s trying to listen in on the meeting we’re all having, this fan comes up to us. Now, you have to remember, this was way back in our first tour. The girl didn’t speak English. So she hands Lance this paper and a pen, right?”
“This could have happened to anyone,” Lance interrupted, trying to hide his embarrassment.
“Sure Lansten, whatever you say.” JC rolled his eyes. “Anyway, like I was saying, she gives him the paper and the pen. Assuming it was for an autograph, he signs it without even looking at it and continuing to talk to us.”
“Uh oh.” Hazel started to laugh.
“The girl goes away all happy and stuff, but later on we get this call. Actually, Lance gets a call. It turns out the paper he had signed was a legal document stating if Lance would agree on accompanying her to some big party she was throwing.”
She burst out laughing. “You didn’t go, did you?”
“Of course I did!” Lance exclaimed, trying not to join the others in hysterics. “What was I supposed to do, let her sue me for not going to her party? It was horrible, I didn’t understand a word they were saying.”
“That’s not even the best part,” JC said in between chuckles. “She made him wear a party hat!”
Hazel gripped her stomach in laughter while JC fell off of the chair and began rolling on the floor. Lance forced away a grin and shook his head. “I’m glad you find personal amusement in my traumatizing experiences.”
Just then the doorbell sounded through the house. Hazel quieted down, although she still laughed occasionally. “I’ll get it.” She walked to the door and opened it, surprised to see Neal on the other side. “What are you doing here?” She hadn’t called him.
“Can’t I come in?” he asked, already moving forward.
Blocking the door, she said, “No.”
“Hazel, what is going on?”
“Nothing. What do you want?”
“I came to see if you’d like to go out tonight.”
“I can’t.”
“Why?”
“I’m studying.” She had let it slip before she could stop herself.
“For what?” he asked.
“College test I have tomorrow.”
“You’re going to college?”
She would have been insulted by his tone if his opinion mattered. “Yes. I have to go.”
“Wait a second.”
“Good night.” She closed the door and returned back to the kitchen.
“Who was that?” Lance asked.
“Nobody.”
~~
Hazel wiped the palm of her hands on her jeans once more as the white packet slowly drifted towards her. It was sure taking its time getting there. She drummed her fingers on the desk top, then her pencil, then sat back and tapped her feet on the floor, the packet still not reaching her. Finally she leaned forward and hissed, “Hurry it up already!”
The row of heads turned towards her and a packet was thrown her way. She lay it perfectly centered before her, inhaling and exhaling quickly, her fingers slowly opening it. Her eyes read the first question and then she looked over her four options for answers.
Then, without even having to think about it, her pencil found it’s way to a letter and checked it off. She moved to the next question, reading it over and then the answers, and found that she knew that one too and checked it off.
Smiling, she continued on with the rest of the test.
~~
“You can’t be serious.”
“I’m totally serious,” Lance, who sat next to her at the kitchen counter, said. “I would like to find whomever invented the post it and write him into my will.”
She laughed. “Lance, you’re weird.”
“No, but listen, do you even realize how many times a post it has saved my life?”
“I haven’t given it a lot of thought, no.”
“I’d have to say hundreds of times.”
“Hundreds?”
“Maybe thousands.”
She couldn’t stop laughing and even had to wipe at her eyes that were starting to get watery.
“Come on, can’t you think of at least one time a post it has saved your life?” he asked, grinning as well.
“Nope.”
“I don’t believe you. I think that you wouldn’t even be here if it wasn’t for some post it down the line.”
Her laughter faded away slightly and she said, “Actually, I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for you.”
His eyes shot up and found her own. They stared at each other for a minute, each face suddenly serious, and then he cleared his throat and looked away. “And guess what?”
“What?”
“I wouldn’t be here if it wasn’t for a post it.”
She started laughing again.
~~
The only noise Hazel could remember hearing were those of her feet against the pavement. She knew that countless other noises surrounded her, that of fellow students, bickering couples, lecturing teachers, laughing friends, but she neither heard nor saw any of it. It was like she walked down a long, plastic, sound proof corridor, the end being that of the paper hanging on the window outside of the classroom.
Two pieces of paper, white, thin, gray typed letters scattered across them. She hated them for meaning so much to her. She feared them for what they would tell her. Never before had it taken someone so long to walk from the parking lot to that classroom.
When she finally reached them, a clutching fear held her eyes down and her heart in check. So that was what feeling was like; that was how it felt to actually hope and fear and want. At that instant she would have preferred her indifference, but there was no going back now.
She forced her eyes up.
~~
Lance’s foot jumped up and down as his impatience took control of his body. Today was the day, the turning point for everything, when they would find out if it had all been worth it, if all the hard work had paid off. Not even when ‘N Sync’s sophomore album had been released was Lance so nervous. Hazel didn’t have classes that day but her professor informed the class that the test grades were being posted and she had insisted she go immediately to check them out.
While she was away he had done almost everything there was to do to keep himself busy, even going so far as to clean out the refrigerator. Any sound in the house would make him jump; the telephone almost gave him a heart attack. She should have been back by now. Why wasn’t she back?
Now he sat at the counter and simply waited for her return. When the front door opened he was on his feet immediately to greet her, checking her face to see if the news had been good or bad. To his dismay, her old, blank expression was present.
“Well?” he asked.
She smiled and said, “Hi Lance.”
“Don’t you even…Hazel, tell me!”
“Tell you what?” she asked, confused.
“The test score!” he exclaimed. “I’m dying here.”
“Oh,” she said calmly. “That. You want to know the test score?”
“Yes!”
“It was…” She trailed off, squinting her eyes and then shaking her head. “No, you aren’t ready.”
“Hazel!”
Laughing, she said, “It was a 92 percent!”
“Yes!” Excitement filled both of their faces and he automatically reached out and grabbed her, feeling her momentarily hug him back.
“I knew it. I knew you could do it.”
“It’s my first A ever.”
They both spoke at the same time, rambling on and smiling, still holding onto one another. It was as if they had both accomplished something greater than just some test, together they had changed her life, together they had turned each of their worlds around, together they helped to fix the wrongs of their pasts and present, and together they paved the road for a different future than each had expected. It seemed foolish now to think of how they had once depended solely on themselves and what spectacular things they had accomplished by finally needing someone.
After awhile Lance released her but gripped her shoulders. “So, what do you want to do tonight?”
“For what?”
“To celebrate this victorious event.”
She shrugged. “What else would I want to do? Hit the clubs, of course.”
~~
Everything looked much brighter than usual.
Hazel and Lance walked through the crowded club, her hand in his, a smile evident on both faces. The people, it seemed, were in celebration for her, the music louder than usual, the atmosphere filled with a certain electricity that she could almost feel. The evening belonged to her. She felt like laughing and dancing and jumping all at once, the foolishness of the thoughts causing her to grin even more.
Everything was perfect. Everything felt right. How could she have gone so long resisting this very feeling? It seemed absurd now to think back to how her life had been before, how she had once been satisfied with waking up to absolutely nothing. She looked at the man next to her and saw everything good in the world packed into a pair of green eyes, every ounce of electricity in the room seeping from him. She squeezed his hand tighter.
Across the club a pair of brown eyes landed on the hazel eyed girl that had entered the club with another man. The brown eyes were confused at first but slowly distorted themselves with a sudden rage and a deep betrayal. The eyes started for the girl.
“This place is packed!” Lance said, having to shout over the music.
“I know!” She glanced around for a second and then her eyes fell on him. “Lance.”
He looked at her. “Yes?”
“I’m very happy.”
He understood the meaning of what she had just said. “I hope you stay happy forever.”
“You make me happy. Will you stay?”
“Forever?” he asked without hesitation, although it seemed he had stopped breathing. “Is that what you want?”
Her eyes stayed on his and the room quieted down for both of them, waiting to hear what she had to say. Her face was taut, as if she too was wondering what words would come out of her mouth, what words was she about to say that she hadn’t even said to herself. Her mouth opened but before she could get even a breath out somebody grabbed her away from him, tearing their hands apart.
She looked up, at the strong person who had their grip on her arm, and saw Neal’s angry face. “Another guy?” It wasn’t really a question, more like a statement intended to slap her in the face. “How could you?”
Lance never even had time to react, it all happened so fast, within a time of twenty seconds. At first she had been by his side and then she was gone, being held by the man he had learned to despise during the past weeks, although he had only met him once. Then, she was being pushed, and this was the part that happened in slow motion, his camerawoman, his storyteller, his wounded bird, his source of light that had cast bright rays into his dark, lonely world was being flung towards the bar. She hit it, not too hard, but her side smacked directly onto the very sharp corner of the bar and then she was down. She did not move.
He did.
Neal was caught completely off guard when Lance started to attack him. It just didn’t look right; no one in that room would have thought that this boy, who seemed to be smiling even when he wasn’t, could sum up so much rage and actually fight someone. Especially since Neal was obviously the stronger of the two. Or so it seemed. But Lance was winning. Neal tried fighting back but it was useless. Lance felt none of Neal’s hits, nothing stopped him, even when Neal managed to throw him off roughly, he was back on his feet in no time, slamming Neal to the ground and continuing his assault. People tried pulling him away but he threw them off and went back to Neal and it seemed nothing would ever stop him.
Then suddenly a voice was heard through all of the chaos.
“Somebody call an ambulance! This girl is barely breathing!”
Lance’s whole body froze, his arm stuck in the air, getting ready to hit Neal again. The look of total animal fury stayed for a second and then it slipped away, replaced with fearful, worried green eyes. He left Neal laying there, already forgetting his existence, and pushed past the small crowd that had surrounded Hazel’s lifeless figure.
It was like before, when he found her lying on the sidewalk by the payphone and he thought she was dead. “Hazel,” he whispered in a shuddered tone. “Get away from her!” he shouted at the others. He knew they were trying to help but he didn’t want any of them near her because they didn’t know what tonight had been for her, they didn’t know the girl who, for once in her life, couldn’t stop smiling, and they didn’t know what she was to him and how very important it was that this time she was not dead.
Leaning forward, he put his ear next to her mouth and could hear the rapid, short breaths she took. His eyebrows scrunched together in confusion and he looked over her. He stopped on her stomach and with hesitated fingers, he lifted her shirt slightly and saw the large blue bruise that had never healed. His eyes shut painfully and then reopened and he took her hand in his, keeping hold of it until the ambulance took her away minutes later.
~~
They were operating on her before he had stepped into the hospital.
He had demanded frantically to see the doctor or anybody that would tell him what was going on, but none were available. He wanted to know why they were operating, what was the bruise, where was she? More importantly, he wanted to know if she would live. No one was able to answer his questions.
It wasn’t until an hour later that Justin arrived to find Lance alone in the waiting room, his face buried in his hands.
“What the hell happened?” Justin asked. “Lance? Lance!”
He didn’t even bother to raise his head.
“Lance, please.” Justin couldn’t believe it, but he was actually begging for a response. He had to know if she was ok. He didn’t even know why but something in his chest was threatening to rip through if he didn’t at least hear that she was going to be ok. “Lance, you have to tell me what’s going on. Lance!”
With his head still bowed, Lance said, “Neal pushed her and she hit the bar. They’re operating on her right now.”
“Why are they operating?”
“She has a broken rib.”
“So?”
“Jared was the one who broke it, not Neal.”
“What? You mean, it’s been broken this entire time?”
“Yes. It’s been trying to heal on its own, but the bones haven’t connected properly, or something. When she hit the bar, the rib hit her lung and almost punctured it. That’s why they are operating, to move the rib away from the lung.”
Justin didn’t speak for several minutes. “I don’t understand. How come they didn’t catch this at the hospital in New Orleans?”
“Because I never took her to the hospital!” He stood up and walked away with a disgusted look on his face, not for Justin, but for himself.
~~
Now 6 people sat in the waiting room.
Chris and Joey had arrived next, exchanging guilty glances with Justin and concerned looks towards Lance who had come back and taken his position of face in hands. The bet, in a silent agreement, was officially called off. JC and a girl they all recognized came next, JC’s face surprising everyone by showing a change in expression, an actual worried hint in his eyes. The girl, who had straight black hair and serious, quiet green eyes said nothing and stayed away from the group, leaning against a wall. JC took a seat next to Lance.
When the doctor entered the room everyone stood but Lance.
He was a tall, aged man with obviously dyed black hair, mustache with gray streaks, and thick glasses. His body was worn with the years he had lived, but his hands stood out, remaining fresh, the skin clear and the fingers clearly strong and refined. He seemed to be confused about something. “Are you all friends of Ms. Fairchild’s?”
Justin, Joey, Chris, and JC nodded. Lance stared blankly at him with red rimmed eyes. The girl never moved.
“Well, I wanted to let you all know that the surgery was successful and she’s doing fine. Actually,” he paused, “She’s doing great. I’ve never seen anyone…well…I mean…”
“Doctor?” Justin questioned.
“It’s just, I’ve never seen anyone so happy after coming out of the ER. We explained to her what happened and she just smiled. It was odd, to say the least.”
Suddenly Lance was on his feet. “Can I see her?”
“Are you Lance?”
“Yes.”
“Normally I wouldn’t want visitors to see a patient so soon after surgery, but she insisted on seeing you. Immediately.” The doctor, who clearly wasn’t used to the facial gesture, smiled. “She’s extremely persistent.”
Lance left the others behind and the doctor led him down the white corridors, bright lights up above and white tiles down bellow, of the hospital. When he entered the room the doctor stayed behind. The window to the room was open, the shades drawn, and the girl on the bed stared, smiling at the city shown outside. She sat peacefully on the bed, propped up by two large pillows behind her and tucked tightly into the sheets, her arms free and rested on the two long mounds hidden under khaki blanket. When she saw who it was, her smile and hazel eyes grew brighter.
“Hi.”
Lance didn’t understand why he was so cautious about approaching this serene figure. “Hazel…you look incredible.”
“You look terrible.”
He grinned and quickened his pace to sit next to her on the bed. “How are you feeling?”
“Great.”
“Hazel, why are you so happy? I thought they told you what had happened?”
“They did.”
“You almost died.”
“But I didn’t.” Still beaming, she took his hand in hers. “You don’t understand. All the other times this has happened all I’ve ever wished was that I died. I didn’t care if I blacked out and didn’t wake up from it. I almost welcomed it. But this time, when the world was fading out, all I could think about was how much I wanted to live. And you. And now here I am, living, and you’re here. How could I not be happy?”
She had leaned closer and with his free hand he touched her cheek, as soft as a newborn’s, and then her hair. “I was so scared…”
“Lance,” she whispered, “I want you to stay with me forever. I’ve never loved anything in my entire life, but I love you.”
That was all he had needed to hear. That was what he had waited to hear his entire life. Now he had both hands on her face, holding onto it gently, and he lowered his head to lightly, even lighter than the touch of a butterfly wing, kiss her lips.
~~
Sally Espanoza was just waving the last child off when the blond head approached her. She smiled, it was a beautiful, sunny day and it seemed to be reflected in the hazel, childlike eyes that smiled back at her. “What was the score today, Hazel?”
“94 percent.”
“Very impressive.”
The girl shrugged. “What can I say? I’m a genius.”
Sally laughed. “And what about tomorrow? Shall I tell the children to expect another visit from their favorite storyteller?”
“Not this Friday,” Hazel said, a hint of regret in her tone.
“Why? Where are you going?”
“Back home.”
~~
The magical tears had kept the meadow green for yet another year.
Hazel and Lance sat on the steps of the large, white mansion in New Orleans, watching the field of butterflies before them. It had come around, the anniversary of the boy’s death, and now every butterfly of every color surrounded them, a rainbow of fluttering all around. She leaned back against his chest, her head resting against his lower jaw, trying to stop herself from crying happily at the beautiful sight before her. It had only been recently that she had looked upon the world and saw such magnificent beauty everywhere, this field no exception.
“So do you believe me now?” she asked the content man behind her.
Lance looked down momentarily at the girl he held, kissing her cheek gently. “I’ve always believed you.” He smiled, realizing the symbolism behind the scenery. “You know, whenever I used to see you, I always felt these strange butterflies in my stomach.”
“Can you still feel the butterflies?”
He lifted her head up to look into the eyes he could always get lost in. “All the time.” He kissed her. “I love you.”
They sat together on the steps of the mansion until the sun had set and remained there through the night, watching the fireflies surround them and invade the field.