The Patron Saint of Butterflies

I DIED FOR YOUR SINS, it reads, AND ALL I GOT WAS THIS LOUSY T-SHIRT?

I turn around to make sure Benny doesn’t catch sight of it, but the whole room starts to undulate, as if I am riding a wave. I reach out blindly for something to hold, but the floor comes rushing up at me.

And then, blackness.





HONEY

Nana Pete freaks when Agnes faints in Wal-Mart. Luckily, I am standing right behind her and so when she goes down—like a ton of bricks—I catch her just before she hits the floor. Nana Pete shrieks so loud that people in the other aisles start rushing over. That dork of a cashier kid looks over the conveyer belt with a stupid expression on his face.

“Uh, what happened?” he asks. “Should I call an ambulance?”

Benny grips the sides of the shopping cart, looking out at us with huge eyes.

Adjusting her carefully on the floor, I lean in and put my ear to Agnes’s mouth. “She’s breathing,” I announce to the worried stare of onlookers. “I think she just fainted.”

A second later, Agnes’s eyes flit open.

“Yeah.” I nod. “She’s okay. She just needs to eat something.”

Nana Pete falls to her knees next to us.

“I don’t think she’s eaten for a few days,” I say in a low voice. “She does this sometimes.”

“Does what?” Nana Pete asks, bewildered.

“Fasts. You know, like the saints. To atone for any sins she’s committed.”

Agnes tries to sit up, but Nana Pete stops her. “Don’t, darlin’. There’s a hotel right across the street. We’re going to go there now, get you something to eat, and put you to bed.”

“We are?” I ask.

Nana Pete nods. She is clutching the front of her shirt with one hand. “It’s been a long two days. No one’s slept at all in the past twenty-four hours. We’re all running on fumes. A good night’s sleep is what everyone needs.”

Nana Pete takes Benny’s hand and I wrap my arm around Agnes so she can lean on me as we make our way inside our room at the hotel.

“I’m okay,” she whispers hoarsely, trying to wriggle out from under me.

I tighten my hold on her. “Just relax. It’s not a sin to let someone help you after you’ve just become personally acquainted with the floor.”

The room itself is not very large, but it’s clean and smells like pine needles. A large window at the opposite end looks out directly on the front lawn. There are two beds in the middle, draped with orange and brown comforters, one long bureau against the wall, and a gigantic black television set.

“Let’s put Benny and Agnes in that one,” Nana Pete says, pointing to the bed closest to the wall. “And you and I will share this one.”

I help Agnes under the covers as Nana Pete gives Benny one of his pills from Dr. Pannetta.

“Hey,” I say, taking her hand. “Nana Pete just bought us new pajamas. Let me help you change so you’re more comfortable.” Agnes shakes her head and lays her head weakly on the pillow.

“I don’t need anything,” she whispers.

I pull my hand out from hers. “Would you stop acting like a martyr for two seconds and just let me help you?”

Agnes’s face scrunches up like she might cry.

Nana Pete rushes over and puts her hand on my shoulder. “Honey. Please. Be kind.”

I shake my head, defeated, and plop down on the other bed next to Benny.

“Agnes,” Nana Pete says, using her no-nonsense voice. “You must get into some comfortable pajamas. No arguments, darlin’. Now, let me help you.”

Agnes blinks and then brings her arms up weakly alongside her ears. Nana Pete helps her out of her robe and then her shirt as Agnes sinks back into the pillow, arms crossed over her chest. There is a sudden, audible gasp.

“What’s wrong?” I ask.

Nana Pete points to the string around Agnes’s waist, which is barely discernable among the bruised folds of skin. “No wonder you fainted!” she says, trying to pull the string off. Agnes cries aloud. “My God, Agnes, you can barely breathe with this thing on! Honey, go out to the front desk and ask the man there for a pair of scissors.”

I don’t move. “What’s that, another penance thing?” I can barely hide the rage in my voice. “You get that from The Saints’ Way, too?” Agnes just stares at the floor. I turn away, disgusted, and march out the door.

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