Julie's Butterfly (21 page)

“Of course, she only wants what’s best for you.” Bastian’s voice was flat, but Julie couldn’t fail to notice his meaningful expression as he defended her mother.

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“That mothers sometimes know what’s best for their daughters.”

Julie took a deep breath before replying. “First of all, I’m not interested in Vincent de Rossi.” He made to interrupt, but she silenced him peremptorily by raising her hand. “Second, your jealousy is completely unfounded. As I’ve already said, I don’t want anyone but you. Will you just get that into your thick skull and save us a whole lot of trouble in the future?” Julie saw with relief that his expression was losing some of its coldness. She moved toward him. “And third, I’m not going to be held responsible for my mother’s actions. I’m the one who decides what’s good for me and what isn’t.”

Bastian swallowed hard. His chin still jutted out defiantly, a sign that he had still not quite gotten rid of all his doubts. “A life with Vincent de Rossi would certainly be less stressful.”

“I’m sure it would,” she agreed, then took one last step up to him and kissed him. Visibly bewildered, he returned her kiss. Julie knew by now the small gestures that were needed to dispel his objections. She pressed herself tightly against his body and ran her fingers through his dark hair. As she felt his resistance fading, she moved away abruptly. “But how much fun would that be?” she asked breathlessly and drew him close, just as she’d been wanting to do all evening.

C
HAPTER
26

With Julie at his side, Bastian could look forward to summer for the first time in his life.

There were days when they only left the apartment because Julie refused point-blank to order takeout every day. She loved going to the market and dragged him there at every opportunity to stock up on fresh vegetables. Bastian wasn’t crazy about the crowds—weaving his way among strangers made his nerves stand on end. Over the years, he had come to avoid physical proximity to strangers since a careless movement could cause him injury. But as he didn’t want to spoil the fun, he overcame his reservations and went with her. She seemed to notice his unease, but rather than comment on it, she simply positioned herself protectively in front of him and led him through the crowd.

He liked holding hands with her, the feeling of belonging that it represented. He did, however, continue to keep an eye out for any young men who looked at her appreciatively; it happened far too often for his liking. Every time he noticed it, the alpha male in him surfaced, and he narrowed his eyes threateningly behind her back, which usually had the desired effect on the admirer. At first, he found it hard to keep his feelings in check, and it was some time before he stopped getting agitated every time a young man stared at her with interest.

He preferred to spend their time together out in the countryside. Sometimes she came with him when he was taking photos for nature conservation organizations in the surrounding area. It was hard for him to concentrate on his work when she danced ecstatically through the fresh grass and laughed in the sunshine, but the looks she gave him more than compensated for it.

He seduced her at every opportunity. And there were plenty of opportunities. Now that he had overcome his shyness, there was no longer any reason to stick to the nighttime hours, and he made the most of it. Julie didn’t seem to mind any more than she minded his physical appearance. There was more concern than repulsion in her eyes when he wounded himself, which happened often since his thoughts were all over the place.

He was embarrassed when he dripped blood on her floor, but she just led him to the bathroom and held a pack of astronaut bandages under his nose. A few weeks before, he would never have imagined that his reaction to such a gesture would be an amused laugh. But this woman made him behave in the strangest ways.

While Julie was at work at the café, Bastian worked on his own assignments or spent time with Felix. He was glad that the insurance company had agreed to pay for a care worker, though Felix was disappointed that Natalia was no Russian beauty, but rather a solicitous woman in her midforties. Natalia was just the help that Elena and Felix so desperately needed. She helped Elena with the housework, cooked, and helped Felix change his bandages. Their relief was palpable. Elena used her new free time to fulfill her lifelong dream of joining an amateur choir. Although Felix cursed during her singing exercises, Bastian could see how pleased he was for his sister.

He and Julie often visited Felix together. Bastian frequently stayed in the background and simply enjoyed watching his friend, who adored her. A certain bond had developed between them. He couldn’t tell exactly what it was, but sometimes they both gave him the same concerned look. Bastian tried not to let it unnerve him, especially given that their closeness bothered him far less than the influence Julie’s friend Isabelle had on her.

Bastian’s first impression at the opening had been that Isabelle was simply loud and overbearing. He only noticed how charming she could be when she had called him from the student party. Bastian had no great interest in getting to know her better—what he had seen of her to date was quite enough—but Isabelle had asked Julie several times to arrange for them all to get together, and he had finally relented to please Julie. Which was how he found himself one evening at a trendy jazz bar where a young man was juggling vinyl to create an unconventional blend of smooth jazz and driving beats in a modern-looking room with a futuristic white bar. A crowd of young people—all smug smiles, presumptuous looks, and narcissistic preoccupations with their own images—had congregated around it.

Bastian tried to give Isabelle the benefit of the doubt since she had arrived on time, something that Julie said happened all too rarely.

“Ah, Prince Charming in the flesh,” she said and offered her hand with a breezy smile as she plunked down onto a rounded easy chair next to the sofa where he and Julie sat.

A complacent smile played on her orange-painted lips as she examined him closely. Bastian hated it when people looked at him so penetratingly, but he returned her smile with the casual manner he had adopted in recent years. Isabelle pursed her lips. No doubt she had already passed judgment on him.

He felt like asking her what conclusion she’d come to—not that he particularly cared, but it was always fun to chat with eccentric characters. And she was certainly one of those. With her sun-yellow hair piled high, a close-fitting gray neoprene top, and a truckload of rouge on her cheeks, she looked like an exploded cockatiel, but that was precisely why Bastian found himself liking her. Her look suggested that she would cut him into tiny pieces and feed him to her goldfish if he dared to hurt Julie. Bastian found her talent for making her feelings known impressive and even cute somehow, given that she was no taller than Julie.

“Have you two finished?” asked Julie impatiently, whereupon Isabelle finally released him from her gaze.

“Of course.” She gave Bastian a winning smile. “I think we’ve got everything straight.”

Julie rolled her eyes.

Bastian laughed.

He was surprised that Isabelle had that effect on him. The rest of the evening was pleasant and relaxed, especially since Isabelle did most of the talking. She told him stories about when she and Julie were kids, teasing her friend with humorous anecdotes. As loyal friends, they didn’t give away too much, but Bastian soon realized that Julie had the heart of a rebel who had been trying for years to break free from the shackles of her strong-willed parents.

Bastian thought that Isabelle would ask him about his disease, but she never did, not even the next time they met at Julie’s apartment or on any of the encounters that followed.

Eventually, his curiosity got the better of his common sense.

“What have you told Isabelle about my skin disorder?” he asked Julie after she proposed an outing with Felix, Elena, and Isabelle.

Julie looked at him in surprise. “I told her what the causes are and the symptoms,” she replied and looked at him uncomprehendingly. “Why?”

“I’m just surprised she’s never mentioned it.”

“Would you want her to?” she asked.

“Of course not. It’s just that, given her temperament, I would have thought she would have an opinion about it.”

“Oh, she does,” said Julie. He gave her a questioning look and she continued, albeit hesitantly. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but Isabelle tends to ignore the small, insignificant stuff. And your disorder falls into that category.”

Bastian stopped, thunderstruck. His whole life had been dominated by this disease, and Isabelle found it . . . insignificant? He ran it through his mind several different ways but still couldn’t grasp what Julie was trying to say.

She noticed his bewilderment.

“She likes you,” she said. “She can see that you make me happy. That’s all that matters to her.”

“That’s all?” he asked, dumbfounded.

“Of course she sympathizes with all butterfly children, and she’s amazed how you live with it. I’m not just saying that—she’s said as much. She’s learned a lot about it, even painted a picture inspired by your fate,” she said, a note of pride in her voice. “But as far as you personally are concerned, her view is that you appear to be coping fine with the condition itself. Just not with its consequences. At first that worried her,” Julie admitted. “But now that she’s seen us together a few times, she’s sure that we’ll find a way to come to terms with it.”

“Is that how you see it?”

“Of course. Would I be here if I didn’t?”

“Probably not.”

The optimism in her expression brought a lump to his throat. Bastian fervently hoped that he wouldn’t destroy her faith, but a small part of him couldn’t help but give a horrified shake of the head at her apparent lack of concern.

C
HAPTER
27

The man was a walking paradox.

A schizophrenic paradox.

Sometimes Julie’s head spun when she thought of the numerous personalities that dwelled within him. He avoided public places wherever possible, but whenever they were out together, Julie noticed how watchful his eyes were, regarding every single person with mistrust. He only opened up when he was with Felix and Elena; otherwise, he consistently projected the image of the cool, distant photographer. When they were alone, he was part lustful, passionate and demanding, part shy and reserved.

None of it made their relationship any easier. Although he gradually began to let go of his inhibitions with her, it was slow going and often drove Julie to the brink of despair. She knew he was pushing his self-control to its limits and beyond, evidenced, among other things, by the occasional flashes of his otherwise carefully controlled temper.

One time, when they went to the movies, he stormed off in a rage because Julie had the audacity to joke with the boy at the popcorn counter—who was hardly past puberty. On the way home, she came to the conclusion that it made no sense to try to convince him of her feelings every time; even though she had done nothing wrong, it made her sound insincere. He would always be plagued by doubts unless he recognized for himself how foolishly he was behaving. There was a difference between justified mistrust and completely unfounded jealousy. Faced with the latter, she would be not only condoning, but reinforcing his behavior by trying to reassure him all the time.

She was almost at her front door when she saw him standing there, full of remorse, waiting for her.

“Are you all right?” was all she said.

Bastian mumbled an apology and spent half the night showing her how much he regretted his tantrum. This game repeated itself several times before she succeeded in driving this form of self-flagellation out of him.

Other aspects of his personality were not so easy.

Bastian had decided not to have photos of himself taken for the doctor’s book. He hadn’t explained his reasoning, but it was clear how horrific he found the idea of revealing his body to a camera and then having the pictures published for all to see. She had tried to bring him around several times, but he remained intractable on the subject.

Even as the summer reached its peak and the weather became unbearably hot, Bastian insisted on his concealing clothing. He categorically refused to go out without his gloves, and nothing could persuade him to do otherwise.

“I just don’t understand why you do this to yourself,” Julie said to him one afternoon, as she emerged from the shower wrapped in a towel.

Bastian was sitting cross-legged on her bed, leafing through some brochures that Julie had picked up at a careers workshop.

“What do you mean?” he asked. His green eyes revealed nothing as he took in every detail of Julie’s body. He had removed his gloves and the sweater he had been wearing earlier, but his legs were still covered by jeans.

“It’s hot out there, and you dress as if the next big freeze is just around the corner,” Julie said.

“I’m just more relaxed when I don’t have to keep worrying about my appearance.”

“But you’ve got absolutely nothing to hide!”

His expression clouded over. “You saw for yourself what happened to Felix last week.”

That was the problem. Each time he seemed to be gaining a little confidence, something unforeseen would happen that sent him back to square one. The previous week, for the first time in a long while, Felix’s health had been good enough for him to get out of the house for a bit. All of them—with the exception of Bastian—had been delighted with Julie’s suggestion of going to the summer fair together. It had been great fun, until a couple of drunk idiots saw Felix and started loudly making cruel jokes about his appearance. The expressions of the onlookers had been sobering.

Felix ignored them, Elena whispered quiet words of reassurance, Isabelle returned their insults in no uncertain terms, and Bastian was beside himself with rage. Julie and Elena only just managed to prevent him from physically throwing himself at the louts. Bastian was so blinded by fury that he stumbled into a table and suffered numerous injuries himself as well as wounding Felix in his wheelchair, despite all the precautions they had taken. They immediately set off for home, no one saying a word; even Isabelle was too shocked to lighten the mood with her usual sassy commentary. It was a total disaster. Bastian had been withdrawn for several days after that, and had not spoken about it since.

Julie swallowed the lump in her throat before sheepishly defending her position. “What happened last week was simply unlucky.”

Bastian smiled sadly. “No, it wasn’t.”

“There’ll always be fools who stare or get their kicks from picking on others.”

“And that’s precisely why I’ll continue to handle things the way I do.” His tone was so determined that Julie gave in. At least for the time being.

As she was putting on a tank top and a pair of shorts, he held up one of the brochures. “Have you come to a decision yet?” he asked.

Julie sat beside him on the bed and flipped through the brochures in search of one in particular. She was nervous about telling him her plans, as she had no idea how he would react.

“I’ve been toying with the idea of applying for a medical degree,” she said hesitantly.

“Why?”

Her shrug was deliberately casual as she enumerated the points in her favor. “I’m strongly drawn toward helping others, I like to be with people, I’ve got a curious mind, and I love the variety the work offers. I think I’d make a good doctor.”

“You think so, or you know you would?”

“I know it.” She grinned. “I know it means a lot of hard work. I’ll have to think about it some more and make sure I can afford it. But hopefully I could get a student loan. At the workshop I went to recently, we were given various tests, and the leader said it would be a good choice for me, provided my high school diploma meets the criteria.”

“You seem to have thought it all out pretty thoroughly,” Bastian remarked.

“What do you think?”

A smile spread across his face in response to her enthusiasm. “I think it sounds perfect for you.”

She scrambled eagerly onto his lap. “So you’ll help me?”

“I can’t think how I could help you,” he replied with a laugh.

“I’d need a test case,” she breathed, her lips close to his. “Human anatomy is extremely complex, you know,” she said playfully.

The familiar uncertainty flickered in his green eyes, but Julie ignored the surge of pain that always caught her by surprise when she was reminded of his inhibitions. She knew of only one way to dispel his reservations.

“I have to find out exactly how different parts of the body react to certain stimuli,” she continued without wavering, moving her pelvis forward slightly. They both moaned softly.

“Well, I think that can be arranged,” he murmured, moving his hands up beneath her top.

Once more, she had succeeded in drawing Bastian back to the light, although it bothered her that she only seemed to be able to do it by physical means.

At times, she wondered whether he would ever be able to cast aside his doubts. Though she hoped he would, her fear that it would never happen grew. Watching him constantly injure himself was hard for her, although Bastian bore his wounds with stoicism. He never complained but simply apologized for staining her things with his blood, which Julie found completely absurd. At first, he refused to let her see his daily routine of changing his bandages, but Julie was driven by a morbid curiosity. Whenever he was about to begin his evening ritual in the bathroom, she delayed leaving the room until it became a silent battle.

She enjoyed a relaxing shower.

He shaved.

She dried herself thoroughly.

He had a shower. A long one.

She combed her wet hair.

He took his time drying himself.

She reached for her toothbrush.

He wrapped his towel loosely around his narrow hips.

She picked up a bottle of body lotion and applied it from head to toe.

He brushed his teeth thoroughly.

She slipped into a clean nightgown.

He gave her a kiss and told her he’d be with her soon.

But eventually, she simply remained sitting where she was, folded her arms across her chest, and gave him a look that told him she was going nowhere.

To her surprise, he just rolled his eyes and carefully began tending to his bandages. She closely observed the way he removed the old ones, checked for infection, and disinfected the wounds. She saw how he burst any new blisters to drain the fluid and which ointments he used. Ever curious, she showered him with questions about the effects of the various ointments and the haptic properties of his bandages. The next day, it started all over again.

It was only once summer began to draw to a close that Bastian set aside these last vestiges of inhibition in her presence. It went more or less unremarked. Their lives together had become so closely interwoven by then that he no longer seemed to worry about such details. Julie did not question this change in him, although he still maintained a stubborn silence about his feelings. His uncertainty was wearing her down, as it had become clear to her that she loved him. It had happened so gradually that she did not know precisely when her infatuation had turned to love. Once she realized it, she felt a mix of euphoria and panic, as she still had no idea how he felt about her.

He wanted to be with her through both good times and bad; he proved this to an impressive degree one time when she got food poisoning and spent a whole night throwing up. She couldn’t remember ever feeling so bad. Bastian did not leave her side; he held her hair, helped her change her clothes, and cooled her brow with a damp cloth. For fear of making things worse, he had refused to make soup for her the next day, instead giving her soda and pretzel sticks to bring her sugar and sodium levels back to normal. He had only begun to relax once she began to feel better. She meant something to him; she knew that. But he never let her see deep enough inside him to know how much, and he never told her what he felt for her, let alone that he loved her.

She once asked him about his parents and his childhood. He kissed her on the forehead and told her that he lived in the present, not the past. He seemed to feel the same way about the future. He assured her that she had his support through her studies, but how much could she rely on that promise?

If Julie talked about places she wanted to visit one day, he listened attentively. He even bought her an oversized coffee-table book of Europe’s most beautiful cities. She loved the gift, but if she were honest with herself, she would have preferred two open-ended plane tickets. Not that she could have afforded to go traveling with him right then, but the simple expression of his desire to visit one of those places with her would have been enough. But he remained as noncommittal as ever.

And he never told her what he dreamed about during those nights when he tossed and turned restlessly in his sleep. Instead he just drew her wordlessly into his arms while she listened to his heartbeat gradually slow back down.

She didn’t know what to do. He went to great lengths to satisfy her every wish before she had even spoken it aloud, indulged her with his attentiveness, granted her any favor she asked for. But she had her doubts about that invisible place in his heart she could not reach. She thought of the cupboard in his studio. She had seen plenty of his photos by then, but that one treasure chest from which he had pulled out that picture of Luke remained closed.

“You still haven’t shown me those pictures,” she reminded him one evening when she was feeling increasingly frustrated at his reticence.

She was sitting on a stool in his studio, keeping him company and playing with an unusual little china duck figurine that was part of a collection he was in the process of photographing.

Bastian paused behind his camera.

“Haven’t you seen enough?” he asked with a smile.

“I mean your mysterious masterpieces,” she said, nodding toward the little cupboard.

“Oh, there’s nothing special in there,” he protested. “But if you want to see them, I’ll show you.” He said it with that affected casualness he used to mask his unease, as Julie knew well by now. She hadn’t actually believed he would capitulate, so she was all the more curious when he pulled a pile of prints out of the cupboard and set them down in front of her. He pulled up a stool and sat down beside her.

The picture of Luke was still on top. It was as delightful as she remembered. The next photo was a large black-and-white image of two women sitting on a bench, talking. Their ages suggested to her that they were likely mother and daughter. They seemed very familiar with each other and took no notice of anything that was going on around them. It looked as though the daughter might be seeking—and receiving—consolation from her mother. The longer Julie looked at the image, the more she was drawn under its spell. There was something almost voyeuristic about it, and she felt its effect on her.

Somewhere deep inside her, she wished she had that, an understanding mother who encouraged and supported her instead of constantly criticizing her. She swallowed the lump in her throat and moved on to the next picture.

Another black-and-white with strong contrasts—this seemed to be his preferred style—this photo depicted a man holding a little girl in his arms. They were at a playground, and other children were playing in the background. The child had her small, chubby arm around his neck and her head nestled on his shoulder as she looked into the distance beyond the camera. The little girl’s dark eyes spoke of complete trust and her boundless love for her father.

The next photo depicted a young man standing in a forest or a park. It must have been winter, as the trees in the background were bare and looked dead in the stark light. The man was looking toward the heavens, with a smile on his face, as he ran his hand through his hair. Bastian had somehow succeeded in making him look like an angel. His skin looked matte and fair, the contours of his face regular, his hands strong but delicate. Unblemished.