Corabelle watched Chance chase Phoenix across the sand and said, “Everything important has happened on the beach. This is where you got yourself pregnant, if memory serves.”
Jenny plopped down on a towel. “Point taken.”
“I do believe somebody’s first encounter with somebody was also here,” she said to Tina.
“Gross, I have that in common with Jenny?” Tina said.
Darion choked on his carrot.
“Somebody do a Heimlich!” Jenny called.
Darion held up his hand. “I’m good,” he said. “I didn’t realize how much you all shared.”
“Oh, we know all the good stuff,” Jenny said. “We know all about getting busy under Tina’s big skirt.” She turned to Corabelle. “Are you the only friend who hasn’t banged on this beach?”
I grabbed Corabelle’s hand and pulled her down. Ethan immediately reached for her, and she took him back. “That can be arranged,” I said.
Jenny tossed a potato chip at my head. “Gross. There are children present.”
“Says the girl who conceived hers by a rock.” I tossed the chip back.
Chance returned with Phoenix. “Maybe she should have a snack,” he said. “Keep her in one place for thirty seconds.”
Jenny pulled an applesauce pouch from her bag and handed it over. “Okay, I think we can all agree that this piece of oceanfront property has definite history for all of us.”
Corabelle bounced Ethan on her knees. Her boobs jiggled in her bikini top, and I began to wonder how long we had to stay before I could get her home.
“I can’t imagine living anywhere else,” Tina said. “Even though I was late getting here.”
“We always wanted to go to the school by the sea,” Corabelle said to me. “And now we’re pretty much done. You’ll graduate before the end of the year.”
“You can’t leave!” Jenny said. “Our kids have to grow up together!” She passed another snack to Chance to keep Phoenix from toddling off again.
“We’re not planning to go anywhere just yet,” I said, pulling Corabelle and Ethan closer to me. The baby rested his chin on Corabelle’s shoulder and looked at me with big solemn eyes. He looked like Manuelito in that moment, and it struck me for the first time that the two boys of mine had so much in common. They had met only twice, but Rosa was bringing Manuel for two weeks at Thanksgiving. That wasn’t too far away.
“Good,” Jenny said. “Because I need my village.”
Phoenix dropped her cup in the sand and pointed a stubby finger at the sky. “Buff-fly,” she said.
“What’s that, sweetie pie?” Jenny asked.
“Buff-fly,” she said again.
Everyone looked up. At first, it seemed like it was about to snow, the way dark bits floated across the sky. But that was ridiculous. This was Southern California. Then I realized we were seeing the fluttering of wings.
Darion stood up. “It’s the monarch migration,” he said. “I’ve seen it once before, when I was a kid.”
We all got to our feet. Even Phoenix was silent as the cloud of orange and black butterflies arrived, swooping, sailing, and flitting silently by.
Corabelle found my hand and squeezed it. I looked at her, staring up in awe at the thousands of winged creatures passing through our little beach party.
Tina stood the farthest forward and stretched out her hand. After a moment, a single butterfly paused for a second on one of her fingers, then fluttered off again.
She started crying, and Darion put his arm around her. Corabelle let go of me and stepped forward, Ethan on her shoulder. She held up her hand as Tina had. It took a minute, but a butterfly landed on her as well.
She turned to me, tears in her eyes. “Look at all of them,” she said. “There are so many.”
Jenny snapped pictures like crazy. The butterfly didn’t leave Corabelle as the other had, just sat there, its wings fanning open and closed, lazily, as if it had nowhere else to be.
When Ethan was born, we recreated the butterfly mobile we had once made for Finn. Above his crib, the glitter-sprayed cutouts swayed whenever we brushed against them.
Now the sky was filled with the real thing, colorful, flitting by. Several took a break on our cooler and chairs, and Phoenix toddled over to them, fascinated.
Ethan waved his hands and the butterfly on Corabelle’s finger fluttered higher, hovered over them, then settled on Ethan’s fuzzy head.
“Oh!” Corabelle cried. “Look!”
I came up behind her. Ethan’s eyes were wide, looking around at all the grown-ups staring at him.
“It doesn’t want to leave you,” Tina said quietly.
Ethan brushed his forehead with his arm, and this time the butterfly landed on my shoulder.
“See?” Tina said. “He belongs to you.” She sat down and jerked a drawing pad from her bag. Her fingers flew as she sketched on an empty page.
“You should move along,” I told the butterfly. The numbers were already thinning, the majority of them already past. “Your friends will worry about you.”
It sat a moment more, wings slowly flapping, its antennae quivering, bright against my white T-shirt.