Crimson Butterflies
Chapter 2- Perfection in Hiding
Cho had expected Jane to take them to some upscale boutiques or high-end fashion stores. Instead, Jane took them to a little, out of the way street with lots of new age, hippy-like shops and merchants spread out on blankets on the sidewalk. It was very artsy, and remarkably free of tourists.
"What are we doing here?" Cho demanded.
"Shopping," Jane replied as if it was obvious. He looked at Cho's expression and explained. "Look, you can't compete with the glitter your brothers and sister are bringing. So you are going to win with sincerity and grace. Now, we just have to find it."
"Here?" Cho asked, eyeing the velvet painting of a dog dressed like Elvis displayed outside a shop door. It was so tacky he couldn't take his eyes away.
"Y-e-e-s," Jane said slowly for emphasis as he pulled the shorter man away, "right here. Cho, you have to pay attention. See this?"
Jane knelt by an old Mexican woman and picked up a silver bracelet to show him. It was etched with a graceful floral pattern, and inlaid with startling perfect turquoise stones. Glinting in the sunlight, it seemed to shimmer with an otherworldly beauty. As he put the bracelet back down, he gave a soft, inward smile with just hint of sadness today.
"I could afford to buy my wife anything," he said simply, "jewels, diamonds, whatever. But this street, this is where I found the perfect gifts."
Cho was speechless for a moment, taking it all in. He looked at the blond man, who had dared his own painful memories to help a friend over something as simple as a birthday gift.
"Okay, where do we start?" Cho asked.
"First, we need to figure out what your mother means to you," Jane replied as they started to stroll down the street. "The rest will sort itself out. Tell me a memory, your happiest memory. Doesn't matter how small or boring you think it is, just make it happy."
"When I was seven, my mother used to take me to the park near our home," Cho started after a pause. "We would walk for hours and she'd tell me stories. Some were made up silly ones, others right from the Brothers Grimm. My favorite, though, were the Chinese myths."
The bright sunlight followed them down the street. Jane would occasionally pause briefly to look at some merchandise or other, but still Cho never doubted the man was listening attentively. Cho found himself idly picking through what he saw as well, although he did have to wonder what anyone would do with a neon pink elephant candle when he saw one on display.
"One day, we were at the park and suddenly there were all these butterflies in the air," Cho continued. "I don't know where they came from, but they covered everything. My mother just looked up at the sky, closed her eyes and spread her arms out. I can still see her, slowing spinning with her arms out, covered in butterflies. She had said the Chinese thought of butterflies as the embodiment of joy, love and rebirth. That is what I saw on her face that day. Joy."
In that moment, Cho saw it. It was a stone butterfly, lovingly carved from translucent reddish quartz, a richer color than pink and glinting in the daylight. Whatever artist had made it had carved two Chinese characters, one on each wing, and edged them in melted silver. A braided silver chain attached at the tips of the wings. It was no trip to Europe or jewel encrusted hair clip, but it seemed to sum up everything Cho ever thought and loved about his mother. And he knew she would love it.
Jane peered over Cho's shoulder and smiled. "What do the characters say?"
Cho smiled widely. "Joy and Love."
Perfect.
Fin.