The Butterfly Box(6)

‘I broke his engine today,’ said Helena, making an effort for the sake of the

children. That couldn’t have come at a better time, could it, Hal?’

‘Good,’ Ramon replied, retreating to his case.

‘Now where’s yours, Fede? I’ve got you a very special present,’ he said, looking up at her expectant face. He felt her hand on his back again. It was so typical of Federica who always had to have some sort of physical contact to feel close. His hands burrowed deep into the bag that was filled not with clothes but with notepads, camera equipment and souvenirs from faraway countries. Finally his fingers felt the rough surface of tissue paper. He pulled it out, taking care not to knock it against the hard metal of his equipment. ‘Here,’ he said, pressing it into her trembling hands.

‘Thank you, Papa,’ she breathed, unwrapping it carefully. Hal had run off into the nursery to play with his new train. Helena lit a cigarette and smoked it nervously, leaning back against the banisters.

‘So how are you?’ he asked without approaching her.

‘Fine, you know, nothing’s changed,’ she replied coldly.

‘Good,’ he said.

Helena sighed wearily. ‘We have to talk, Ramon.’

‘Not now.’

‘Of course.’



‘Later.’



Federica unwrapped the paper to discover a roughly carved wooden box. It wasn’t pretty. It wasn’t even charming. She felt the tears prick the backs of her eyes and her throat constrict with disappointment. Not because she wanted a nicer present, she wasn’t materialistic or spoilt, but because Hal’s present had been so much more beautiful than hers. She understood his presents as a reflection of his love. He couldn’t love her very much if he hadn’t even bothered to find her a pretty gift.

‘Thank you, Papa,’ she choked, swallowing back her tears in shame. ‘It’s very nice.’ But she didn’t have the strength to rebel against her emotions. The excitement had been too much, now the disappointment threw her into a sudden low and the tears welled and spilled out over her hot cheeks.

‘Fede, mi amor,1 he said, pulling her into his arms and kissing her wet face. ‘It’s nice,’ she said, trying to sound grateful and not wishing to offend him. ‘Open it,’ he whispered into her ear. She hesitated. ‘Go on, amorcita, open it.’ She opened it with a shaking hand. The little box might have been plain on

the outside, ugly even, but inside it was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen, and what’s more it played the strangest, most alluring tune she had ever heard.





Chapter 2


Federica stared into the box in awe. The entire interior was covered with neatly cut stones of every colour that shimmered as if each little gem contained a small heart of light all its very own. There was not one patch of wood, not even a minute piece, that lay exposed between the mesmerizing crystals. From within, the box appeared to be made solely out of jewels and not out of wood at all, like the core of a crystallized piece of rock. On the floor of the box trembled the delicate wings of a butterfly that varied in colour from a dark ink blue against her body to the palest of aquamarines and finally amber. So delicate were they that Federica placed a finger onto the surface in order to convince herself that they were really stones and not drops of glittering water from some enchanted pool. A strange, iridescent light caused the butterfly to shudder as if about to extend her wings and fly away. Federica moved the box about slowly to see where the light was coming from and at once she was taken by the magical movement of the butterfly who, as she tilted the box, seemed to change from blues to pinks, reds and oranges. She caught her breath and put the box straight again. The butterfly returned to her cool sea tones before changing once more into fire as Federica tilted the box again.



‘It’s beautiful,’ she sniffed without taking her eyes off the sparkling treasure chest.

‘Beauty isn’t always on the outside, Fede,’ he said softly, hugging her. He looked up at his wife who still stood stiffly against the banisters, blowing smoke into the air like a dragon. She sighed impatiently and shook her head before walking out of the hall into the corridor, the smoke floating eerily behind her like a phantom. She wanted to tell him that he couldn’t buy his daughter’s love with presents all the time. But regretfully she knew he didn’t have to buy it at all; he already had it for free.



Ramon stood up and tore his eyes away from the trail of smoke, which, along with the ill feeling, was all that remained of his wife. He looked down at the radiant face of his daughter, oblivious to the tension that caused the atmosphere to quiver with the invisible force of disappointment. He ran a hand over his unshaven face and down his dirty black hair that was long and reached his shoulders. It was hot. He needed air and he needed a swim. He had looked forward to returning home, built it up in his mind, romanticized it. But now he was home he wanted to leave again. Home was always a rosier place in the mirages of his mind. It was better to leave it there.