Butterfly arranged everything she bought at commissary, and it proved to be a test to load everything in the semi-full space. And she didn't know what she would do with all the food she ordered, because she didn't know how to cook, and she wasn't really a big-eater. But she bought the things that Britney picked out.
Britney lay sprawled across the bottom bunk and wouldn't stop talking about how he wished he could have had a crack at Craze-zo for five seconds.
“I should have kicked his ass in there!”
“For what?” Butterfly asked. This was their tenth time going over it.
“So that he'd have to live with getting his ass whipped by somebody gay,” Britney said.
Butterfly sighed.
“You're going to have to put some of that stuff in my locker.”
Britney helped Butterfly put some of the things up, and he had come across Butterfly's receipt.
“Damn! You robbed a bank?”
Butterfly snatched the receipt away.
“Everybody in here ain’t a flea-rotten prostitute.”
“That's true. It's only us gorgeous ‘hos. But you had money out there?” Britney asked, kind of shocked.
“I still do. I'm a model. I've ripped the runway, did the venue of all the Black magazines. I've done commercials and videos. I've done it all.”
“How did you manage to get locked up then?”
“It's a long story.”
Britney looked at her as if they didn't have anything but tons of time to waste.
“Identity theft and somebody talked me into cashing some checks for them, and I didn't know it was a set up. If truth be told, I've been using other girls’ identities since I was young, but I had stopped busting checks.”
“I believe you, and I know you're not lying. You're a pretty bitch, and it would be impossible to tell you apart from any other girl. But you were never scared that when you were modeling they would find out that you were a man?”
“Not really. I mean, besides, with this tiny appendage attached to my body, it's impossible to tell.”
“I don't know—your hair is looking a little messed up.” Britney laughed.
“That ain’t fair. I don't know what to do with my nappy hair without a stylist in sight.”
“Why don't you use mayonnaise?”
“Why would I do something stupid like that?”
“I don't know; I thought that was an Aunt Jemima's recipe. Plus, a lot of guys in jail do it to get waves.”
“I'm not that desperate.”
“I'm just making fun of you. You're gorgeous no matter how you wear your hair.”
“Thank you, I really needed that. All of this prison stuff can really kill a person's spirits. I don't hate much, but I hate this place.”
“Have you been feeling down?”
Butterfly shook her head.
“Here, have a seat and tell me all about it.”
Butterfly left the remainder of the commissary to one side of the bed as she recounted the story of how her life had turned into a nightmare.
“My ex's name is Clayton. I met him through his cousin Peyton, who I met while modeling. Peyton knew I was dating Clayton, but she didn’t know I was a pre-op transgender. And I don't know how she found out about me, but it was like she found it out, and now I'm not so sure that she didn't know about me from the start.
“But she told their whole family,” Butterfly said as she cried.
“Take your time.” Britney consoled her as best as he could.
“After his family found out, they demanded that he leave me alone. When he realized that his family was against us, we packed up and moved to Richmond, Virginia. I was so happy.” The thought of it choked her up all the more, and Britney pat her on her back.
At the time she didn’t ever think that Clayton’s family would take it out on Peyton. Butterfly couldn’t have known, because Peyton never changed toward her, even though they didn’t speak much after Clayton and Butterfly moved to Richmond.
“I was so happy living with him that I felt I had opened a new chapter in my life. But it hadn't been a month after we had left when one of his friends called and told him that his mother had died.” More tears cascaded from Butterfly's eyes, and she couldn't hold back the flood. After she had gathered herself, she continued.
“Can you believe that his family didn't even tell him about his mother being in the hospital or dying or anything about the funeral? After he found out, everything went downhill from there. He blamed me for everything!”
“Don't cry about that. It's all behind you now. Don't cry, Butterfly.”
“Life is so hard! Why is life so hard? Please tell me why life's so hard?”
“I can't tell you. I just know that you have to be strong, and every time you fall, you have to get back up, brush yourself off, and keep going like nothing happened.”
“But I can't,” Butterfly said. She wasn't even finished telling her story. “When Clayton found out about his mother, he beat me up so bad that I had to stay in the hospital for two months. He just kept hitting me and calling me sissies and fags and queers and gay and all types of horrible things! I just wished he would have killed me, because I still miss him so much, and I'm not mad at him for all the pain he caused me. I forgive him, because if this world is half as crazy for him as it is for me; I understand his pain and hurt.”
“Don't say that. Nobody deserves to get punched on for whatever reasons. Don't say that, ever. You'll find somebody else.”
Butterfly mended her heart as she cried on Britney's shoulder. The night outside had zapped the energy from her, and all she wanted to do was crawl in the bed and sleep a long, soundless sleep, and she didn't know if she'd want to wake again.
She thought about her childhood and all the negativity and hate for no other reason than people didn't understand who she was and that she had a beautiful heart that was generous, sensitive, and gentle. She wouldn't hurt anybody—it wasn't her nature. But for all the good she had, she attracted that much more evil, and she couldn't help but wonder why people reacted like Clayton and nearly beat her to death. Or vengeful like Peyton to go through all that time faking a friendship to eventually set Butterfly up. Or people like her father, so hateful that he spurned the love of his own son. Or people like her uncle, who were so twisted in perversion that they would contaminate a kid’s innocence. Could God be so cruel? And was there some other foreseeable plan for her future that would turn everything that had gone wrong in her life into something that could atone and amend for all the pain and suffering she had endured? And, as with life and all other complex questions, they seemed to go unanswered.