Free The Cries of the Butterfly - A LOVE STORY by Rajeev Roy Page B

and budding trepidation.
    Eleven-thirty. She will come, keep the faith, she will! But he could feel the dampness on his brow. He laid his left hand softly on the telephone instrument; his right hand already cuddled his cellphone.
    Eleven-forty-five. She is leaving it to the very last second, dude. You cling on! But he could barely breathe.
    Eleven-fifty-five. He gulped once, then opened his mouth wide and sponged a huge helping of air. His skin had begun to bristle.
    Midnight. He stared at the wall clock and his body humped. Then a dreadful sinking feeling formed in the pit of his stomach and swelled.
    And yet he waited, all decked up, his soul creasing with every passing minute.
    Finally at two am, he lumbered to his feet. He went to a cupboard and found a bottle of pills. He then walked to the refrigerator. He pulled out two cans of ‘Predator Super Strong’ beer, and with it downed three pills of ‘Cedate.’
    Thirty minutes later, he passed out across his bed, still bedecked in his beloved suit.
    ***
    ROBIN was upset. He had said nine am, and it was nine-thirty now. But there was no sign of Daddy. All week long, all she ever did was look forward to the weekends...to seeing Daddy again. Only last week, for the first time ever, he hadn’t shown up.
    “I’m really sorry, Sweets, but I have to go to LA on urgent work,” he had said over the telephone. “But I promise you I’ll be there next week as usual, okay, baby?”
    She had been terribly disappointed, but she had understood. Daddy had never failed her before; if he couldn’t come one week there had to be a very compelling reason.
    But again this week, there was no sign of him.
    “He’ll be here soon, okay?” Sister Toynette now said, stroking the little girl’s head.
    Robin looked up at her and forced a smile. She had been ready to go for an hour now—smartly dressed, this Saturday morning of March 29th, in red slacks, white full-sleeve shirt and red sneakers. It had been a gift from Daddy and she wore it only when she went to him over the weekends. The sleeve of her amputated right arm had been folded back just above the elbow and fastened to her shoulder with a pair of safety pins.
    At ten, Robin could bear it no more and she turned to Sister Toynette.
    “Can I phone him, Sister?”
    “Okay...to the office.” And when they reached there, Sister Toynette said, “Want me to do it?”
    “No, no, I’ll do it,” Robin said hastily, bringing a smile to the Sister’s lips.
    Of course, Robin knew the numbers by heart. But today none of the phones were answered—not the fixed-line, not the cellular. She tried, and tried, again and again, but only the eerie monotone of the ring addressed her. Finally, she looked at Sister Toynette helplessly, her face morose.
    “Let’s wait for sometime—perhaps he’s on the way,” the Sister said. “Look, Robin, I need to attend to Moon-Moon. You want to wait here?”
    “Can I wait outside?”
    Sister Toynette nodded. “But don’t go too far.”
    So Robin waited, under a young Banyan tree near the main gate of the St Teresa Children’s Home, refusing to sit down on the stone bench near her, her eyes riveted on the street outside, desperately waiting for Daddy.
    But Wolf Butcher did not come.
    Sister Toynette returned after a while. “I called their home, but no one’s picking up there either. Perhaps the people are out.”
    “May I call Daddy again?”
    “I did that too.”
    Tears began to form in those little blue eyes. Sister Toynette sighed, then wound her arm around the girl’s shoulders.
    “What you say, I take you to his home myself?” Sister Toynette said.
    The girl’s mood brightened instantly.
    “Let’s go then, we do not want to be late anymore, do we?” Sister Toynette said, taking Robin’s hand.
    There was sudden bounce in Robin’s stride as she went along with the Sister back to the office.
    “Thank you,” she said gratefully, wiping her eyes on her left sleeve, watching the Sister