Julie's Butterfly (7 page)

“If you want to try it out, I can take you to the pharmacist,” offered Bastian.

Felix shook his head. “Thanks, but there’s no need. Paul’s sending me a sample.” He stretched as well as his bandages allowed. “But I would like a shower,” he said. “Unfortunately, I didn’t quite get around to it yesterday.”

Bastian stood. “Are you sure?”

Felix gave a crooked grin. “I am, if you’d be so kind.”

Felix shifted his legs off the edge of the bed, gasping in pain when his shaky feet touched the ground. A pair of foam-padded crutches leaned against the wall next to the bed. Although Felix avoided them whenever he could, he had agreed—after lengthy persuasion—to use them to take some of the weight off his feet and legs.

Bastian laid Felix’s arm gently across his shoulders and pulled him slowly to his feet. Felix groaned from a mixture of pain and relief. He leaned his full weight on Bastian, who guided him into the bathroom and set him down slowly on a padded chair in the wide shower stall.

He then helped Felix undress.

“Did you see the race last night?” asked Felix as he began to undo his bandages. “I’m afraid I was a little indisposed.”

“You didn’t miss much.” He helped Felix in the places he couldn’t reach himself. Although he was taking the greatest care, Felix flinched hard twice.

“Damn,” murmured Bastian as he tried to loosen the bandage under Felix’s arm. “It’s stuck fast. You’ll need to soften it up a bit first.”

He set the shower to a pleasant temperature and handed Felix the specially adapted low-pressure showerhead. Bastian then gathered up the used bandages that Felix had heaped at his feet and withdrew to give him his privacy.

Over the noise of the shower, Bastian reported on the previous night’s Formula 1 race in South Korea. They debated knowledgeably about the various teams’ latest technical accomplishments and worked out who, and under what conditions, was likely to win the season.

When Felix had finished washing, Bastian helped him into his bathrobe and back to his room.

“There you are,” said Elena cheerfully, not revealing a trace of her earlier worries. “Dinner will be ready soon.”

She had already laid out fresh clothes for Felix on the bed, but his wounds had to be bandaged before he could put them on. Elena pulled out all the necessary equipment from a special cupboard stuffed with bandages and medications.

Felix sank onto an armchair, and Bastian helped by passing them whatever they needed. Elena and Felix were so in tune with each other that few words were needed.

First they loosened the softened bandage and thoroughly disinfected the affected area. Newly formed blisters were pricked with sterile needles and drained. They then applied various creams and covered them with clean nonstick bandages. Felix’s skin was so fragile that adhesive dressings caused new blisters to form, so they affixed everything with gauze and tubular bandages. The wounds on his back and under his arm looked better than they had the previous evening, but they would have to keep an eye on the back of his knee.

Once they had finished, Bastian helped Felix into his clothes, while Elena fetched two plates of food and set them down on the table.

“I’ll go get a chair,” said Bastian. “You take the armchair.”

“No need.” Elena waved him away.

“Aren’t you eating with us?” asked Felix in surprise.

“Well, seeing as you’ve got company, I’m going to have a relaxing bath and do something for my wrinkles,” she said, disappearing out the door before Felix could think of a suitably witty response.

“The next thing I know, she’ll be telling me what face mask she likes best,” said Felix, wrinkling his nose. “She really needs a girlfriend.”

Bastian laughed and sat down in the armchair opposite Felix. Felix’s food was thoroughly puréed and mixed with added minerals. Since sufferers’ mucous membranes were often affected too, Felix had to be careful what he ate to protect himself from internal injuries.

He reached for his fork, clumsily scooped a portion of mashed potatoes onto it, and began to eat. He looked at Bastian critically.

“Are you going to tell me about her?” he asked eventually. There was no need for him to say who he meant.

Bastian gave an anguished sigh. “Sounds like Elena’s been talking.”

“She hasn’t said much,” said Felix. “Only that there was a pretty brunette at the opening and that you never took your eyes off her.”

“Julietta,” said Bastian in a raw voice.

“Unusual name.”

“Not half as unusual as she is.”

“Will you be seeing her again?” Felix grinned.

“I already have.”

Felix raised an eyebrow.

“The graphics agency instructed me to take some pictures for a catalogue, a motley selection of collector’s items. She turned out to be the client’s daughter and was with me in the warehouse, ostensibly to oversee my work,” explained Bastian.

“Would you believe it?” said Felix with a shake of his head. He looked at Bastian inquisitively. “And?”

“And nothing,” replied Bastian.

Felix sighed. “What have you gone and done?”

Bastian was not the least bit surprised by his friend’s question; Felix could read him like a book. “She asked me to take my gloves off,” he said hesitantly. The memory of it sent a shudder down his spine.

“Smart girl,” said Felix. “Did you?”

Bastian frowned, which was confirmation enough for Felix.

“How did she react?”

“She wasn’t as shocked as I’d expected, but she could hardly conceal her pity.”

Felix stared bleakly at him. “You freaked out again.”

“You should have seen her face,” said Bastian, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “I ran full tilt out of the building,” he admitted.

“She showed you sympathy and you panicked.”

“I don’t want anyone’s sympathy,” muttered Bastian bitterly. “Least of all hers.”

“If you want her to think of you as a strong man, you have to act like one, buddy.”

“I know that. But it makes no difference anyhow, because I won’t be seeing her again.”

“Why don’t you call her?”

“I don’t have her number.”

“And in this age of communication, it’s impossible to track it down,” said Felix.

“She wouldn’t be interested in an explanation anyway, not after I behaved like such an idiot.”

“So you’re going to give up without even trying?”

Bastian was silent.

Felix ate a few mouthfuls of his supper before giving Bastian a searching look. “Elena’s sure to be able to get her number from Isabelle. What do you say?”

“I say it’s a bad idea.”

“Not for you,” grinned Felix. “For me.”

Bastian frowned at him.

“Well, if you don’t want her . . . ,” said Felix lightly. “I’ll take what I can get.” He pointed his fork in Bastian’s direction. “If you’re telling me there’s a lovely brunette out there who’d look at my situation with more sympathy than revulsion, then I’d certainly like to meet her.”

“You really do have a sick sense of humor.”

“That was no joke,” said Felix seriously. “There’s a reason we never talk about women. And it’s not because—unlike you—I don’t want a partner.”

Felix watched Bastian’s face grow pale as he scraped the last forkful of mashed potato into his mouth.

“I can’t even scratch my head without hurting myself,” said Felix flatly. “So if there really was a woman who had no fear of touching a butterfly child, then just give me her number.”

“Go on then if you insist.” Bastian made a self-conscious effort to appear unconcerned by leaning back and folding his arms.

Felix smiled dreamily. “Nothing could be as comforting as the gentle embrace of a lovely woman. I have to admit I prefer blondes, but when it comes down to it, I’m really not fussy.”

Bastian set his jaw and gave his friend a dark look.

Felix lay back and called out, “Elena!”

“Coming,” replied his sister.

“All right,” said Bastian, acknowledging defeat with a sigh. “You’ve made your point. I’ll get in touch with her and explain. But I’ll do it my own way.”

Elena appeared in the doorway and gave Felix an inquiring look. “Do you need something?”

A satisfied smile spread across Felix’s face as he looked over at his sister. “Is there any more mashed potato?”

C
HAPTER
11

Around noon on Saturday, Bastian was staring out his living room window, watching the birds swooping through the sunny spring air.

He had promised Felix that he would explain his situation to Julie, and—totally incidentally—he felt compelled to not leave things hanging with her. But he had no idea how to carry out this intention. He could hardly call her up and tell her on the phone why he had freaked out like that the day before. Besides, he felt an indefinable longing to see her again, however unwise that may be.

It seemed like a sign from above when he saw a young woman who looked much like Julie turn onto his street. He leaned forward to study her. The closer she came, the stronger his physical reaction. When she stopped outside the garden gate of his building and studied the mailboxes, he was sure it was her. His excitement mounted as she lifted the flap of his mailbox and peered inside. Confronted by a heap of junk mail, Julie let the flap fall and looked up at the building. From his top-floor apartment, he couldn’t quite make out her expression, but something or someone by the main entrance attracted her attention and she hurried toward it. With his nose pressed against the window, he watched her disappear from his field of view.

It looked like she’d gone inside.

Bastian hurried across his apartment and listened at the front door. Light footsteps were approaching. Then everything was quiet.

All he could hear was his heart thumping as he waited for her to ring the bell.

But she didn’t.

And she wasn’t going to, which was hardly surprising given the way he’d treated her.

Thrown into a panic by this realization, he flung open the door.

Julie was crouched outside. She blinked in surprise as she looked up and stood hastily.

“Excuse me,” she stammered. “I—” She blushed. “Oh, God. You must think I’m nuts, but I didn’t want to disturb—” She stopped and took a deep breath. “Isabelle got your address for me from Elena. Perhaps I should have rung the bell, but then I thought you wouldn’t want me to. I just wanted to return these.” She held up his black leather gloves. “You dropped them last night, and I thought you’d want them back,” she explained awkwardly. “I was going to leave them outside your door.”

Her eyes fell to his hands, which were covered by another pair of gloves.

“You’ve got a spare pair,” she observed, then laughed self-consciously. “Of course. How silly of me.”

Bastian took his gloves from her.

Say something to her, you idiot,
he thought, but his power of speech had somehow vanished.

Julie drew her dark-green cardigan more tightly around herself and folded her arms. Her brown eyes looked wistfully up at him. “I’d better go now,” she said softly and took a step back. “Bye.”

“Coffee?” he blurted out. Wow, he could actually talk! He gave an agonized groan in his mind as Julie regarded him uncertainly. “At least, I would offer you some if I had any,” he continued casually. “But I do have hot chocolate. Or tea. Or soda. Or perhaps you’d prefer water?”

“Is that meant to be a joke?” said Julie after a brief pause.

He was already asking himself the same thing. Could this get any more embarrassing? He forced a smile. “I do have a sense of humor, but in this case, I’m serious.”

Julie stared at him wordlessly, and Bastian’s smile faded to a stricken expression.

“Listen, I’m sorry about what happened yesterday. I shouldn’t have just run off like that. It was all just a bit too much for me.”

“No.” Julie shook her head. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have put you in that position.”

Bastian’s eyes widened in wonder. He’d behaved like a complete ass, and she was apologizing? She would only do that if she considered him some kind of victim. He swallowed hard. “Would you like to come in? You must have one or two questions.”

“I can’t,” she replied regretfully. “I’ve got a date with Luke.”

“Understood,” he muttered. It shouldn’t come as a surprise that she was meeting someone else, however much he hated the idea.

“I’ve told you about him.” Julie grinned as if pleased by his reaction. “He’s the one who used up all the astronaut bandages.”

Of course. Her nephew.

“We’re going to the zoo,” Julie continued with a cheerful gleam in her eyes. “You could come with us if you like.”

Once more, she was having that incredible effect on him, without even being aware of it. He felt an idiotic grin form on his lips and could do absolutely nothing about it.

“The lion is the second largest of the big cats, after the tiger. Its main habitat is in Africa. It prefers the extensive grasslands of the sub-Saharan regions. When hunting, it can reach speeds of up to fifty miles per hour, which is relatively slow compared with other big cats. Its prey consists primarily of antelope and wildebeest, as well as buffalo, zebra, and, when necessary, elephant.” Julie looked up from the small brass plaque and searched around for a lion.

“Cool.” Like all boys his age, Luke drawled out a long
o
whenever he was particularly enthusiastic about something. Julie’s nephew was incredibly bright for his six years. The wind had tousled his short brown hair, and his brown eyes—which bore a striking resemblance to Julie’s—shone with delight. He stood on tiptoe next to his aunt so that he could see better over the railing around the big cats’ outdoor enclosure.

Bastian went to stand beside them.

On a plateau lined with dense bushes, a regal pair of fully grown lions lazed luxuriously in the spring sunshine. This was clearly the alpha male of the pride with his companion.

“Look!” Luke pointed to a lion who appeared out of the bushes, stalking the pair. He must have been younger, as his mane was nowhere near as majestic as the alpha male’s. As the pair noticed him, they jerked to their feet, prepared to defend their territory, and the two males sized each other up, snarling. The tension was palpable.

The female took cover beside her companion. The older lion growled out a further warning, but the young lion, undeterred by his rival’s imposing presence, leapt at him in a single bound.

Luke gasped. The big cats’ growling and snarling was punctuated by Luke’s cries of encouragement. The victor soon became clear. Despite his boldness, the young lion failed to overcome the pride’s leader. It only took two final, well-aimed blows to force the weakened challenger to retreat.

Luke’s shoulders sagged in disappointment at the abrupt outcome of the skirmish. “I was rooting for the other one.”

“He looks like he needs to fatten himself up a bit before he can hold his own against the big one.” Bastian sounded chummy and familiar. They had quickly become friends—it had only taken a second for them to decide they liked each other.

“At least the big guy took his share of the beating.” Luke grinned at Bastian, revealing a gap in his teeth. “But why were they fighting?”

“For food, perhaps,” suggested Bastian.

Luke looked around the plateau for evidence of that. “No, there’s no food there.”

The pair had settled back down and were once again lazing together in the sunshine.

Julie laid a hand on his shoulder. “They were quarrelling over the girl,” she explained.

Luke looked disappointed. “So Big Guy let himself get drawn into a scrap over a girl?”

Bastian suddenly became aware of a certain similarity to his own situation. Not long ago, he’d jumped in on Julie’s behalf, not without getting himself hurt in the process.

Julie also seemed to be aware of the parallel. “He didn’t go looking for trouble,” she said uncertainly.

The corners of Bastian’s mouth twitched at her guilty expression. “Maybe not, but it had to be done.”

Luke glanced back at the pair of lions. “He must like her.”

Bastian’s eyes fell on Julie. It would be so easy to confirm Luke’s observation, but the implications of that would be so much greater than the little boy realized.

Blissfully unaware of the tension between his two companions, Luke was eager to move on. “Let’s go.”

“What do you want to see now? The elephants? Or the monkey house?” asked Julie.

“I’d like an ice cream, please,” he said, looking at her so imploringly that she had no choice but to head to the nearest café.

The zoo’s small bistro was busy with weekend visitors, but they managed to find a spot by the window that looked out over the sunny garden, where a well-equipped playground beckoned.

As they waited for their order, Luke talked about his new school. He’d started just a few weeks earlier and was still excited about it. The only downside was having to get up early.

The waitress soon arrived with a fruit sundae for Luke, a slice of apple cake for Julie, and a plate of crêpes for Bastian. She also brought hot chocolates for each of them.

Luke’s eyes gleamed with delight. As he started in on his sundae, he continued giving Julie and Bastian a detailed account of his new friends at school. He claimed to already be part of the most popular school-yard gang, which he mainly attributed to Julie’s first-day gift, a remote-controlled monster truck. He told Bastian every detail of his fiery-red Carrera RC racing machine, which was eighteen inches long and could hit twenty miles per hour.

Luke had finished about half his sundae when he noticed Bastian’s gloves. He peered up from behind the glass dish and frowned. “What’s up with your hands?”

Bastian shoved a bite of crêpe into his mouth.

“I feel the cold,” he said simply. His attempt at indifference felt barely credible. The shock of his recent exposure made it difficult for him to fully overcome his awkwardness.

Luke was satisfied with his explanation, however. “Then it’s good you didn’t order an ice cream,” he replied with a shiver. He put his spoon down and pushed the glass over to Julie.

“Have you had enough?” she asked, surprised.

Luke nodded. He looked longingly over at the playground, where three boys around his age were playing. One of them had a football under his arm.

“Can I go and play?”

“Of course, but you know the rules.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “I know, I know. Always stay in sight.”

Before she could say another word, he scooted off.

Julie excused herself briefly to go to the bathroom. While she was gone, Bastian watched Luke approach the other kids. He dug out the small camera he always carried in his pocket just in case, took a photo of the boy, then stashed the camera away again.

Luke was the embodiment of a happy child. Bastian was ashamed of the inevitable pang of jealousy he felt. He was not an envious person by nature; it was just that he would have given anything when he was young to be able to walk freely up to other children and play with them. But in addition to his constant fear of rejection, there was simply too great a risk that he would fall and injure himself. The few times he’d tried to ignore his disorder had resulted in some extremely painful consequences. He became more careful as he grew up, and his discipline had enabled him to lead his life without getting seriously hurt—provided he wasn’t running around after beautiful women.

He looked over at Julie who had sat back down and was poking at the remains of Luke’s ice cream while staring absently at his hands. Bastian suppressed the impulse to hide them under the table. Instead he speared a piece of his crêpe and raised it slowly to his mouth. As if entranced, she followed his movement.

She blushed slightly as their eyes met, but she set her chin defiantly. “I’m not going to apologize for anything.”

“Fair enough,” he replied with a sigh. “Ask me whatever you want to know.” He had never invited anyone to do such a thing. But that was why he was here after all.

“What’s the name of this”—Julie hesitated—“disease?”

“Epidermolysis bullosa. We’re also called butterfly children, because our skin is as easily damaged as a butterfly’s wing.”

She bit her lip. “What actually happens to you?”

Bastian looked down at his plate. Explaining the complex medical phenomenon of his skin disorder was not easy. In an attempt to find a visual analogy, he used his fork to separate two pieces of his crêpe and pushed them into position on his plate. “Imagine these are layers of skin,” he explained, indicating the pieces. He splashed a spoonful of chocolate sauce onto one piece, piled the other on top of it and pressed them together until the sauce squeezed out the edges. “This is your skin.” He tapped the stack with his fork. “Each layer of skin is connected to the next by proteins, just like this sauce is holding these two pieces together.”

He cut two more pieces of crêpe of the same size, dotted a much smaller amount of sauce onto them and fitted one on top of the other in similar fashion. He laid the second example next to the first. “And this is mine.” Bastian continued, “Because of a genetic defect, I’m unable to form the proteins that automatically anchor my skin layers together.” He shoved a piece of his model into his mouth. “I’m hardly able to form any chocolate sauce, so I’m more sensitive to wounding than you are.”

“When do you get injured?”

“Pressure causes the skin’s two layers to rub against each other, but because they’re not held together firmly enough, they tear apart, and fluid or blood fills the space. That’s how these blisters form.”