The Butterfly
David Starsky lay on his couch in the darkness, his left arm draped across his stomach, his right arm hooked behind his head. Terry had been gone for four weeks now. Starsky haphazardly shifted through varying emotions – sadness, loneliness, overwhelming loss – and a new emotion – anger. Try as he might, he couldn't stop the anger from pushing itself to the forefront of all the other emotions going through his mind. Things had happened so quickly with Terry. She had been given a choice. Stay in bed, immobile, and live a year. Or leave the hospital and live a week or a month – there was no way of knowing. Terry had chosen to leave the hospital. Three weeks later she was dead. And Starsky was alone. What if she had stayed in the hospital? What if she had laid flat on her back? Sure, it's not the most pleasant way to exist, but what if during that time the doctors came up with a procedure that would save her life? Wouldn't it be worth it then? And even if they couldn't come up with a procedure to save her life, at least Starsky would have had more time with her. Starsky squeezed his eyes shut, willing the anger to go away. Along with the anger came the guilt of feeling angry. God, he was so confused.
The phone rang. He lay there, listening to it ring. He considered not answering it, but then changed his mind and reached across to the table, grabbing the phone and putting it to his ear.
"Hello?"
"Dave, this is Edith."
"Oh. Hi, Edith. What can I do for you? Is everything okay?"
"Well, you know that Harold and Cal are on that science club field trip. Anyway, I just got a call from my sister. Seems my newest niece or nephew is planning on making an early appearance. I was wondering if you could stay with Rosie while I go up to the hospital. I tried to call Ken, but I couldn't reach him."
"Uh, yeah, he's in court today."
Starsky hesitated. The last thing he needed right now was to baby-sit. He loved Rosie, he really did, but he was just in no mood to be "Uncle Dave" right now.
"Dave? Can you do it? I really hate to ask you, but our regular sitter is sick and this is such short notice –"
"Sure, Edith. No problem. I'll be over within the hour."
"Thanks, Dave. I really appreciate it. And I know Rosie will be excited!"
"Yeah. I'll see you soon."
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Seven-year-old Rosie Dobey got off the bus at the corner of her street. She looked for her mother, and was surprised to find Starsky waiting for her instead.
"Uncle Dave! What are you doing here?" Rosie ran to Starsky, immediately throwing her arms around his waist and giving him a hug.
"Well, your aunt is going to have a baby and your mom went to be with her. So it's just you and me for a while schweetheart." Starsky smiled, determined not to let Rosie know how miserable he was feeling.
Rosie laughed and took Starsky's hand in her own and together they walked to the Dobey house. Once inside, Rosie set her backpack on the couch and headed toward the kitchen. "Uncle Dave, you want a cookie? Mama always lets me have a cookie and some milk after school. They're chocolate chip and I helped make them."
"Sure. You get the cookies, I'll get the milk." Starsky opened the cabinet and took down two glasses. He filled them up with milk and he and Rosie sat at the kitchen table.
"Uncle Dave?"
"Yeah, Rosie?"
"Mama and Daddy told me how Terry went to heaven, that she's an angel now." Rosie looked at Starsky, her face full of innocence, not realizing the impact of the weight of her words on Starsky's heart.
Starsky blinked back a tear. "Yeah, that's right. She was an angel on earth, and now she's an angel in heaven."
Starsky looked away from Rosie, fighting to stay in control of his feelings. He loved this little girl, but right now all he wanted to do was run away. Rosie stood from the chair. She walked around the table and put her arms around his neck.
"I'm sorry, Uncle Dave. I didn't mean to make you sad."
Starsky pulled Rosie into a tight embrace. "You didn't make me sad, Rosie. I just miss Terry, and that's what makes me sad." He cleared his throat. He decided to change the subject, anything to get his mind off of Terry. "So, what did you do at school today?"
"Well, I drew a picture of a butterfly. I've got a butterfly cocoon in a jar in my room. It's going to open and a butterfly is going to come out. It's for my science project. You want to see it?" Rosie asked. Not waiting for an answer, she ran to her room to retrieve the chrysalis.
She returned to the kitchen carrying an old mayonnaise jar, holes poked through the top of the lid. Inside was a stick with a cocoon attached. There was a fluttering of black and orange. "It's here! It's here! Look, Uncle Dave. The butterfly came out while I was at school." Rosie ran into the living room and returned with a Polaroid camera. "Will you take a picture? The teacher says I have to have a picture of every stage."
Starsky took the camera from Rosie, and snapped a picture of the butterfly in the jar. He handed the picture to Rosie. "There ya go, kiddo. Now what?" He tried to feign some interest in the butterfly.
Rosie thought for a moment. "I have to let it go. They don't live very long, so I want her to be free, not cooped up in the jar. That would just make her sad. Will you go with me Uncle Dave?"
Starsky pasted another smile on his face. "Sure, Rosie." Is that what he had been asking of Terry? That she live her life like a butterfly "cooped up in a jar?" He pushed the thought out of his mind, and returned his attention to Rosie.
Rosie put one hand in his and carried the jar with the other hand. They walked out into the back yard. Rosie took one last look at the butterfly. "I'm going to name her Terry, Uncle Dave. I hope that's okay."
Starsky inhaled sharply at the revelation, and then forced a smile. "That's sweet Rosie." He quickly wiped a tear from his eye.
Rosie unscrewed the lid from the jar. The butterfly flew out of the jar majestically, up toward the sky. Rosie and Starsky watched as the butterfly grew smaller and smaller, until they could no longer see it.
"Wasn't she beautiful, Uncle Dave?"
Starsky knelt down by Rosie. "Yeah, Rosie, she was beautiful. And now she's free." A single tear slid down his cheek. "Now she's free."
The End