Butterfly - The Girl in the Woods

I made us some bacon and eggs for breakfast, frying the bacon first, then cooking the eggs in the bacon grease. Marie ate like a starving person, then shooed me off to do writing while she washed breakfast dishes and cleaned the cabin. I swear, the cabin had never been so clean. She wiped down every counter in the bathroom and kitchen. She dusted, then she swept the place, and finally mopped. I'd had professionals who weren't half as thorough as Marie was.

She was done by lunch and told me to keep writing as she made us sandwiches for lunch. Hers, of course was slathered in mayonnaise. At current rates, I'd be buying another mayo the next time I went to the store. There is a porch at the front of the cabin and after lunch she went out and swept that as well. If she was auditioning for the position of housekeeper, she passed the audition.

"Marie, dear, while I write, you should be working on your art. I promise I won't tear it up or throw it out."

I had paper for my computer printer along with pens and pencils - no real art supplies, but she took those. For a while, she just sat there with the paper, pens, and pencils, doing nothing. Then finally, Marie took a deep, ragged breath, picked up a pencil and began drawing. I was curious about what she was doing, but didn't want to spook her by looking at it before she was ready.

She drew for a bit, then looked up, then back at the paper and began to erase what she'd done. She did that three or four times before she crumpled up the paper and threw it away. I was afraid she was going to cry again. She almost looked like she was about to, then she took another deep breath and started again. This time she didn't do as much erasing, and after a bit she put her work face down and went to the bathroom.

I didn't want to intrude by looking at what she was working on, but I couldn't help but go to the trash and fish out the one she'd thrown away. She'd been doing a pencil sketch of me, and it was quite good. I managed to get back to my desk and hide it in a drawer before she came back out of the bathroom. She looked at the work she'd laid face down, but of course I hadn't touched it.

Marie looked over at me, and I looked up and smiled at her. She sat back down and resumed her work. A little later, she took the materials and went outside, presumably to work on some landscapes. She left some material inside, but I resisted the urge to look at it. When she came back in, she looked at me and at where she'd left her work. Then sat down and sat back.

I decided it was time for me to take a break from my writing, and got up and came over to the sofa, where Marie was. She had her work turned upside down, so I couldn't see it. I figured it was best to wait until she was comfortable showing it to me.

"My writing has been going pretty well. Are you starting to feel comfortable getting back into drawing and such?"

"I have a long way to go."

"Sometimes we can be our own worst critics. Don't be too hard on yourself."

"Are you always happy with everything you write?"

"Just like you can go back and erase or paint over, I can go back and edit or rewrite. I don't have to be perfect first time out. The important thing is to keep working, even if it doesn't feel the way you want it to."

"I wish I could throw myself at my work the way you can."

"That's up to you. It's your mind that's the roadblock."

"I suppose you want to see it?"

"When you're ready for me to."

Marie threw her arms around me, hugged me tight, and began to cry. I stroked her back, and stroked her head and tried to make soothing noises without mouthing inane platitudes. Finally she stopped crying and just rested her head on my shoulder. It was terrible, in one way I was almost seeing her as the daughter I never had, and in another way as the wife I wished I had.

I sat there with my emotions swinging between paternal love and outright romantic love mixed with a lot of lust. This was a young woman who just over twenty four hours earlier I'd found naked in the forest. In my mind I could see that beautiful naked young woman and I wanted her more than I'd wanted any woman in a long time.

As I sat there, I heard the George Michael song 'Father Figure' in my head. Indeed I wanted something special and something sacred, and above all, I wanted her naked at my side. I thought about what I had and lost with Andrea, and how I hadn't had that kind of physical or emotional bond with anyone since the early days of my relationship with her. It left me feeling emptier than I'd felt for a long time.

At that moment I wanted something and needed something, but after what Marie had been through, there was no way I could ask that of her. Here she was just starting to trust a man again after what her father had done. I couldn't violate that trust by asking for more than she was ready to give. I sat with tears in my eyes as we held each other in our joint misery.

After a little bit, Marie pulled back and kissed me on the cheek. I wanted her lips so badly I swear I could taste them. I know my lips, my face had to have reflected that. She looked at me, then just looked down into her lap. I knew then, I could take her, and she'd let me, but if I did, it would just be sex and never be love. I couldn't do that. I couldn't settle for just having her body - I needed all of her.

I had to have been shaking as I disentangled from Marie and went into the kitchen to start dinner. After a minute I looked over at her. Her expression started as puzzled, then relieved, then something more. It would take a while to truly get her love, and it had to start with getting her trust. I could be wrong, but I felt that I'd taken the first step toward getting that trust.

...

A few days later, she still had not shown me any of her art. I respected her decision and except for the one I'd fished out of the trash had seen nothing she'd done. She went around the cabin gathering the trash to take outside to the can where we burned all our trash, not having garbage pickup out there. I heard her stop for a minute.

I looked up to see her with the trash can that I'd fished the one drawing out of. She was holding the can and staring in my direction. Our eyes met and I knew that she knew I'd fished it out of there. I looked down and tried to avoid her gaze for a while after that. She soon went back to work.

My writing was going better than it had for a while. Somehow Marie seemed to be my muse or inspiration. I needed to go into town for more groceries and thought Marie might like a change of scenery, and maybe a couple outfits of her choosing, rather than being stuck with what I'd bought her. We went back to the clothing store and she found some very pretty panties and bras, in contrast to the dull white ones I'd bought. She had to show me and ask my approval. The clerk saw us and commented in a snotty tone.

"I saw you buying the women's clothes the other day. I should have guessed you brought your daughter up here with you."

Marie gave the clerk a hard stare, then smiled.

"He isn't my father."

Then she grabbed me and gave me a long kiss on the lips. I felt a heat rising from my lips, moving to the top of my head, then down my body infusing me with a warmth all the way to my toes. I'm not sure I even breathed during the kiss. Time stopped as did the whole world around me. I heard nothing, I saw nothing, I felt nothing but her lips on mine. She broke the kiss and the world came flooding back, and I could breathe again.

"I'm sorry, my mistake."

The clerk had gotten very red, then turned and walked away from us. We resumed our shopping though my head was spinning and only slowed down after several minutes. Besides the pretty undergarments, Marie got some nicer slacks, a couple of cute tops, a skirt, and a pair of flats. Marie wrapped her arm around me as we went to the register, where that same clerk rang up our purchases. As she did, Marie gave me another kiss.

We left the store and put her purchases in my car, before getting groceries. Marie still had her arm around me, but chuckled as we walked.

"I'm sorry. I suppose I shouldn't have done that, but her attitude really bugged me."

"I didn't mind in the least."

"I don't suppose you did."

Marie didn't keep her arm around me as we grocery shopped, but every once in a while, she'd hold my hand as we went through the store. I didn't think she was trying to encourage me, nor to tease me, but I wasn't quite sure where we were. We also picked up some better art supplies, a big drawing pad, a smaller pad with archival paper, canvases, paints and brushes, watercolors, cray pas, charcoal sticks, and I'm not sure what else.

Back at the cabin, we continued to watch cable at night before bedtime. As we went along we would occasionally put our arms around each other. One night I guess we were up later than usual and dropped off to sleep in each other's arms on the sofa. I woke up later with my arm tingling from poor circulation, and was shocked to find us there together. Marie woke up also and looked at me.

"Jacob, this feels comfortable, but I don't want to give you the wrong impression."

"I didn't think..."

"We just need to have you go into your bedroom and go to sleep."

"You're a wonderful girl."

"And you're a great guy, but we're not there - not yet."

I got up and stumbled into my bedroom and didn't even undress, but fell into a fitful sleep. I had many dreams and Marie seemed to be at the center of all of them. In one dream, I saw her again in the forest. She and I were both naked and dancing around a clearing. Something in my dream told me it was a fertility dance, at the end of which she was naked in my arms.

In another dream, she and I were lying together in bed. I was sweetly touching her and her again naked body was responding to my touch. Then I saw the two of us at the front of a church, Marie in a white wedding gown and I in a tux, with a minister marrying us. Then I saw myself carrying her across the threshold of my flat in the city. I set her down and we kissed, then I picked her back up and carried her into our bed.

Some of the dreams were from my wedding and early marriage to Andrea, but with Marie there in place of Andrea. Then I saw us in a hospital with her holding our baby that she'd just delivered. My dreams were of a life that at that point I could only dream of. I woke in the morning covered in sweat, clutching pillows and covers to me as I would a lover.

After my dreams, I didn't want to wake up. My dreams were everything I wanted from Marie, but still didn't have. I stumbled almost drunkenly from the bedroom, to find Marie sleeping peacefully on the sofa. It took everything I could muster to keep from picking her up, carrying her into my bedroom and ripping off her clothes. I stood there, gaping at her as she opened her eyes and smiled at me.

"Good morning, Jacob. Did you sleep well?"

"I slept with the most vivid dreams."

"Dreams of what?"

"Of you and me."

"Oh. Some dreams come true, but often they take much longer than we'd like."

"Don't I know it?"

"In action, watch the timing."

"And the timing isn't right?"

"Not yet, Jacob. Not yet."

Through breakfast I had flashes of images from my dreams. Flashes of images of what I craved. But I knew Marie was still not ready to give her heart. Her body was not enough - it would never be enough. When she was ready to give her heart, then at last, I'd have all of her. When I wrote that day, my dreams colored my writing. They infused my writing with a passion that I realized I'd long lacked.

I threw myself so deeply into my writing that I barely even noticed the real, live, warm Marie who moved around the cabin, and worked on her own art. At one point, I stopped to go to the bathroom and looked at Marie, and I swear, he was as fixated on her art as I'd been on my writing. I couldn't see what she was doing, but stumbled to the bathroom, peed, and returned to my writing.

Marie brought me a soda and sandwich at lunchtime, then finally in early evening, we broke for dinner. I saved all my work and backed it up to my flash drive, as I always did. We ate dinner, then went back to work until later, when we stopped to watch another silly romance on cable.

"Jacob, do you believe we really have a soul mate - someone who is THE right person for each of us?"

"I never used to, Marie. I just figured we found someone we liked and made the best of it."

"And now?"

"I'm starting to believe in them."

"How would we know if we find our soul mate?"

"If we find someone who means more to us than anyone or anything else - someone who we can't imagine trying to live without."

"Is that love or obsession?"

"Aristotle said love is a single soul inhabiting two bodies."

"Do you think you'll ever find that, Jacob?"

"If I find a woman who loves me as deeply as I love her."

"Go to bed. Have nice dreams. We'll talk in the morning."

...

Marie seemed to withdraw some as we neared the time when I planned to go back to the city. I thought about allowing her to stay in the cabin by herself rent free, but she'd still need a car and groceries. We brought it to a head about two days before my scheduled departure.

"Jacob, I really don't feel right about moving into your place in the city."

"You need a place to live, along with food, transportation, and utilities - at the very least. There are buses and subways to get you almost anywhere cheaply, and I'd cover rent, food, and utilities."

"You are a wonderful guy, but it seems like too much too soon."

"Do you have another place to stay, Marie? Anywhere?"

"Not yet."

"I'll make you a deal. Come in with me and bring your art. I have a friend who knows a gallery owner. Let them see your stuff, and base your decision on what they say."

"And if they say my stuff is crap?"

"If they do, and you want to bail, I'll lend you money to get started somewhere else."

"What if they say my stuff is great?"

"Then pretty quickly you'll make enough money off it that you won't need me."

"You don't really know how good my stuff is."

"I'm not an art critic or a serious collector, and you haven't shown me your stuff anyhow."

"So I'd be your live-in what, exactly?"

"Call it a housekeeper. You'd have your own room and bed and even bathroom. If I haven't bothered you so far, why would I bother you then?"

"Kind of feels like you're upping the ante."

"Marie, you deserve a break. I'm trying to give you one without leaving you feeling deeply indebted to me."

"It seems to me you want more than a housekeeper."

"You may be right, but I also don't want more than you feel comfortable giving."

"I feel like I've been betrayed by too many men already. I never told you but my boyfriend bought the beer and encouraged me to drink it with him, before he got me drunk and starting doing things to me."

"Have I done anything to make you feel you couldn't trust me?"

"You mean like fish a piece of my art out of the trash when I wasn't looking?"

I opened the desk drawer, where I'd put the drawing, and pulled it out of the drawer. I held it out to Marie. She looked at me, with some combination of bewilderment and anger.

"I liked it. I thought it was something worth keeping. But if it's that important to you, take it and burn it, throw it out, or do whatever you want with it."

"You might as well keep it now."

"I should have told you what I did. But I was a little ashamed, and it seemed so nice, and if you left me, I wanted a memento of knowing and helping you."

"You more than paid for it with everything you've bought for me."

"Marie, I care very deeply about you and about what happens to you. Based on what you told me, you can't go back home."

"I may not have been quite as much of an angel as I let you think."

"My feelings for you aren't based on you being some perfectly moral or honorable person. I feel a connection to you."

"What if I told you that the guy who dumped me up here wasn't my dad, but someone my boyfriend and I were trying to fleece?"

"You haven't tried to steal from me."

"If you take me back to the city, I might be tempted to try."

"Marie, I think you have genuine talent as an artist. In the long run, that's worth a lot more than whatever you could steal from middle aged men."

"Even if you're right, I'm not someone you should fall in love with. I'm not someone you should take into your home."

"I see signs of a wonderful person behind whatever persona you've had to develop to survive."

Marie sank to the floor and began to cry. I wanted to run to her and hold her, but I knew she didn't even love or trust herself. I sat down on the floor near her and when her crying eased, I took her hand. At this point she'd thrown so much at me, I was no longer sure what to believe about her. What I felt pretty sure of was that she was vulnerable, pretty, and a talented artist. Anything beyond that was conjecture.

"So who are you really?"

"My name is Marie, but I was thrown out by my father for stealing money from him. I met Phil and he used me to lure middle aged men that we'd rip off. But the last one, Phil cleaned out and left me to take the fall. Instead of turning me over to the police, he took his own revenge."

"Then I came along."

"I had nothing - no clothes, no money, my partner dumped me and I probably have police looking for me across three states."

"You do seem to have real artistic talent. Why did you stop?"

"My boyfriend threw it all away. Told me it was nothing but shit."

"Let people who know art decide what is or isn't shit."

"But I'm a thief. What part of that don't you understand?"

"I don't keep cash or jewelry in my apartment, and not enough electronics to make it worth stealing. Besides I work out of my apartment as much as any office. It isn't like you'd be left alone all that much to clean out what little there is."

"I don't deserve it."

"I think you deserve a chance to straighten out your life. I'm trying to give you that chance."

"It's too late for me."

"I don't think so. I'm willing to bet you can change your life around if you want to."

"Then you're crazier than I thought."

"You wouldn't be the first person to think so."

"Look, I already had you falling in love with me. If I gave you the slightest reason to think I'd accept, you'd have asked me to marry you."

"And if you're as much a thief as you say, why didn't you?"

"You were too decent a guy. I couldn't bring myself to do it."

"Which shows you have a conscience and you're willing to follow it. That means you can change."

"What about all the other men that I ripped off?"

"Were they really decent guys?"

"Most of them were dirty old men just looking for some hot young thing to fuck."

"One old hustler said you can only hustle a hustler. Only the people looking for something for nothing will fall for the average hustle."

"Most of those men only wanted my body. You wanted the one thing I couldn't give - real love."

"I think it's in there if you let it out. The problem being that you have to let yourself be vulnerable in order to love and be loved."

"Why couldn't you just settle for my body?"

"Because I'm not built that way - not anymore. Maybe before Andrea I could have, but she showed me how shallow all that is. She showed me by jumping head first into the shallow water."

"You deserve someone better than me. Someone like you, not someone like me."

"Marie, if your art is as good as I think it can be, you won't need me. If it's as bad as your ex-boyfriend said, you need any lifeline you can get. If it's somewhere in the middle, you just need a fair chance to develop it."

"I'll take my art to the city and meet with the gallery owner. Let's see where we go from there."