This was it. Frame it just right, set shutter speed, deep breath in, ribcage up, steady hands, steady, steady. Click.

            The picture popped up on the DSLR screen: a neat portrait of Kara’s bedroom – once full of framed prints of professional wildlife photographers (her favorite being the Stephen Earle photo of the cheetah family), various sizes of sketchbooks, and clothes neatly piled on the floor – now bare. It was the perfect image to kick off her summer portfolio.

            Kara slung her pack over her shoulder and grabbed the open envelope sitting on top of her mattress. Her eyes skimmed the address: Ellsworth College, Ellsworth, Maine. It was her key to this final summer in high school, which she hoped would be the best summer of her life. Kara smiled and clutched the envelope to her chest as she dashed down the stairs to get in the car.

            The trip to the airport was long and full of her mother telling Kara between sobs to call often, have fun, and most of all, be responsible, “especially with those East Coast boys.” Her mess of curly brown hair bobbed along with each statement as if in affirmation. Her hair always seemed to expand to fill any volume it was in. After many years, Kara still couldn’t decide whether her mother’s hair reminded Kara of a poodle or a lion. Today, the tears streaming down her mother’s face gave her a distinctly un-ferocious appearance; Kara decided it was poodle.

            At the airport, Kara listened as her mother sniffed into her shoulder, consumed by her mother’s arms wrapped around her ribcage in a hug. A few feet away, Kara’s father looked on, his arms crossed. He glanced at his watch, then off into the terminal.

            “Mom, I’ll be fine. I’ve wanted this for forever! We’ve planned for it since February. You know Grandpa Nelson will take care of me.”

            Curls bounced against Kara’s face as her mother nodded. “Just call us often, okay, sweetie? Remember to not mention your grandmother around him. He’s not ready to talk about her yet.” Kara nodded. Her father’s face crinkled like a piece of tinfoil in disapproval at the mention of Grandpa Nelson. Kara walked over to him and gave him a final hug. He patted her hair, and for a brief second she felt a weight lift off of her shoulders, felt like she was a child again that was in the arms of a protector.

            Then her father spoke, “If he says anything bad about you, anything that makes you feel uncomfortable or unsafe, call us right away. We’ll get you out of there immediately and deal with the situation.” Under his breath: “Shouldn’t be longer than a week.”

            “Charles,” her mother snapped.

            “Martha, I’m saying what you are too afraid to say. Sorry, Kara, we really shouldn’t have to be discussing this right now. We should have dealt with this months ago when your mother made these arrangements.

            Kara’s mother scowled ferociously. Her hair seemed to pulse, almost like Medusa’s head full of snakes. “You’re right, it’s my fault for trying to have a relationship with my father and allowing my daughter, who made her choice, to spend time with her grandfather.”

            Kara stepped forward. “Mom, Dad, my plane leaves in half-an-hour. I promise I’ll call you, and everything will be fine with Grandpa Nelson. Just leave it be and let me have my summer.”

            Kara’s mother looked sheepish and ran up to her and gave her one final hug. Her father did, too, offering his last words, “Sorry, honey. I’m just a little worried. Enjoy your trip.”

            As the engines roared and the plane began its slow crawl onto the tarmac, Kara stared out the window. When the waitress passed by with food, her stomach felt so tightly knotted that the thought of food made her queasy. As she thought about the excitement and learning that was sure to fill her next few months, her parents’ raised voices kept rudely intruding.

            Kara figured her father disliked Grandpa Nelson just because Mom and Kara’s grandmother and sisters had left Grandpa Nelson after he had returned home from the Vietnam War. Mother didn’t talk about it a lot, but Kara knew that it still pained her; after all, the first time she had spoken to Nelson in over ten years was by her sister’s hospital bed after Aunt Carol had suffered a heart attack. Her mother and Nelson had slowly started to reconnect – a phone call here, a letter there – and it progressed into Kara’s mother asking if Kara could stay at his place in Ellsworth while she went to summer photography school. Kara hadn’t seen her grandfather since she was in grade school, so she was excited to finally meet this shadowy figure in her life.

            At least Kara had been fortunate to live in a loving family. Her parents had been married for twenty years, and had hardly fought over more than what to buy at the grocery store. Well, at least before Kara’s mother had started talking to Nelson. She hated to admit it, but episodes like what had happened in the airport had become more and more frequent.

            Kara liked to think that bad things passed her by. With enough positivity, any negative thing could swing to its opposite pole. After all, people just wanted to feel loved and like they belonged, and Kara liked to give that to others. Good karma was working its magic in her life. She closed her eyes and imagined her parent’s angry shouts at one another slowly being quelled to soft caring whispers. Perhaps with enough karma that could be a reality.

*                 *                *

            “Who the hell are you?” Through the slightly cracked heavy oak door Kara saw Grandpa Nelson’s wizened face. He looked just like he did in the pictures she had seen. Wrinkles ran down his face in vertical lines like waterfalls, or like the deep cuts in the bark of an ancient tree. Kara itched to grab her camera and record the landscape of his face, but knew that that would be rude.

            Kara gulped and felt her face form into a peppy smile. “Hi, Grandpa Nelson. I’m Kara. It’s nice to finally meet you!” His scowl remained unchanged, except for the slightest of squints through his reading glasses. Kara’s hands suddenly felt slick with sweat. He looked her up and down, and she suddenly felt conscious of her decision to wear leggings, knee-high black boots, and a sweater-dress. He probably didn’t understand hipster fashion.

            Finally, he barked, “Christ, I didn’t think she’d actually let you come. I should have known, you can never trust someone to back out when you need them to…” The door creaked as he removed his hand from it and turned his back to her, hobbling down the entryway. “Close the door behind you.”

            Kara tentatively stepped inside and set her bags on the ground. All around her, the house breathed craftsman: deep mahogany wood made up the walls, worn-down hardwood floors that seemed to have once been exceptionally nice in a past life paved the kitchen and living room, and various tables and bookshelves dotted the living and dining rooms. Kara heard the TV volume increase tenfold and the crunch of someone settling into a chair.

            “Shut the damn door already,” shouted Grandpa Nelson.

            Kara hurriedly scooted her bags farther forward and closed the door behind her. Her hands clenched onto the handles of her bags and she trudged up to the second floor where her room would be, all the while trying to quell the feeling of dread that rose within her.

            The room was bare, save for a twin bed and a dresser. Kara began to pull things out of her bags and place them on the bed. Clearly, Grandpa Nelson was having a bad day. She’d been warned that he’d be a little unfriendly, but she hadn’t been prepared for such a cold greeting. She would just have to try harder to make him feel comfortable around her. After all, he’d been living alone for over thirty years; the poor man had to be in need of human attention.

            Ah, she’d finally found the right bag. She grabbed the wrapped gift inside and dashed down the stairs.

            “Grandpa, I have something for you! I found it in a store in Mexico City when we were on vacation, and I thought you’d like it.”

            His eyes didn’t move from the TV. On it, a time lapse showed ants being consumed by a fungus that sprung forth from their carapaces and released spores from a tall stalk. The chair creaked as Nelson leaned back in it, his navy blue slippers crossed over one another on the coffee table. They were worn down almost to the soles. The chair had little holes torn in the covering, and white clouds of stuffing poked out of numerous holes.

            “I’m not your Grandpa,” he huffed. He turned up the volume on the TV.

            Kara had to let that settle in for a few seconds. “But… We spoke on the phone. Mom told me-”

            “Yes, your mother told you that I’m your grandfather. She lied,” he hissed. “I didn’t get to raise her, and I sure as hell haven’t been around to see you, so I’m not your damn Grandpa. Besides, that title’s reserved for pansy-asses who lie around all day, reading the daily shit-paper just to do the crossword puzzle on the last page. Don’t call me that again.”

            Kara felt like the floorboards had disappeared from beneath her feet. “I.. I’m sorry, I didn’t know.”

            Nelson grumbled, “Just stay in your room and keep your nose out of my life. We’ll get along just fine then.” Without even looking at her, he continued, “I only got three rules for you, kid. One: no loud noises. That includes that shit music your generation listens to, boy-fucking – or girl-fucking, whatever your preference, and whatever else I can hear through the floorboards. I hear enough of that from the neighbor across the street. Two: You do your own dishes, laundry, and clean the bathroom every week. And three: The backyard is off limits. There’s a reason that back door is locked. Don’t mess with it, or I’ll peel your skin with my potato peeler.” He met Kara’s eyes and smiled. “I bought it in the 80s.”

            Kara’s hands shook. As the tears began to fall down her face, she flung the wrapped gift onto his coffee table and sprinted up the stairs before she could embarrass herself further.

            That night she silently sobbed into her pillow, wondering why that had gone so horribly wrong. She’d called him “Grandpa Nelson” over the phone before and he hadn’t had a problem; why was this all of a sudden the worst offence? She knew what she’d do. She’d go downstairs and apologize tomorrow, say that there was a misunderstanding and that she wanted to start over. That was a good plan.

            She fell asleep on her wet pillow.

            The next morning Kara woke up in a funk, unable to remember why she felt like she had slogged through a marsh. It all rushed back to her as she brushed her teeth, and the rest of the morning descended into dreariness. Kara tried to combat the sinking feeling with the excitement that today was her first day at Ellsworth College’s summer photography camp. Well, the “camp” part really didn’t apply to her as her parents couldn’t afford the dorm prices, which was why they had negotiated with the management to permit her to take the courses while staying at Nelson’s home. Kara worried that she was going to regret her housing situation.

            Still, Kara managed to not get lost on the short walk to campus. Inside, her nerves fluttered like a bunch of butterflies trapped inside a jar, their wings scraping against the edges of their trappings. She imagined their large wings to be a deep blue that she could lose herself in.

            On campus, the art building was all glass and angles, reflecting the light of the sun and the blue sky. Inside, Kara gawked at the paintings adorning the walls and the grand spiral sculpture as the girl next to her, a fellow student, chittered on and on about the college, the program, how excited she was to meet Ralph Callihan, the world-renowned photographer teacher who would be teaching the course. Kara nodded and agreed emphatically, chatting enthusiastically with the girl as her eyes wandered around the building.

            Their classroom was large and tiered, with steps leading up to the grand steeple of a back wall which was almost entirely floor-to-ceiling windows. Kara chose a seat smack in the middle of the first row. Better to be prepared and to show the professor that she was an eager participant, willing to learn. The girl looked around nervously at such a bold statement, but decided to follow her.

            A tall student, round-faced and long-haired, sat down next on her other side. His leather jacket was a little too big on his shoulders, but Kara couldn’t help but think that he was cute.

            He turned to her and smiled confidently.

            “First day already, huh? Seems like it was just yesterday that I got my acceptance letter.”

            Kara beamed back. She felt unexpectedly buoyant. “I can’t wait to learn from Professor Callihan. Ellsworth’s so lucky to have him teaching here. We’re so lucky to be learning from him.”

            The boy laughed. “You mean we’re so rich to be learning from him, right? Dude charges as much as my mom makes in a year. I’m only here on scholarship, and I only got that because I had my brother write the essay. He’s an English major.” He winked and leaned back in his seat. “Name’s Luke, by the way.”

            “Kara.”

            “Cool to meet you, Kara. Can’t wait to see what kind of magic you can work on that.” He gestured at her camera bag and whistled.

            Kara liked this boy already.

            The rest of the day was a blur of introductions, images of famous photographers, lighting techniques, and notes on all of the above. Kara felt like her brain was a repository being stuffed with strings of yarn. The more that were shoved into her head, the more they became a tangled, indiscernible web.

            Every class she had was with Luke. They even ended up being group partners in Shot Composition, something that happened by pure chance as they both decided to sit with other people to mingle more. Fate just had a way of throwing people together, she guessed.

            By the time classes and supper were all finished, Kara hadn’t thought once about Nelson. On her walk home, she remained buoyed up by the frantic energy the day had provided. She yearned to go on a walk and spend some much needed quality time with her Canon, but she knew that that wouldn’t be feasible until the weekend.

            When she entered the house that night, Nelson was nowhere to be found. Kara checked her watch. 9:00. He must be an early sleeper, she thought to herself. She felt unexpectedly relieved as she tiptoed up to her room and pulled out her notebooks, ready to review everything she had learned. Through her head danced the laughter of her newly-made friends and the speeches of her professors, but most prominent of all was Luke’s voice.

            Kara smiled to herself.

            The next few days passed uneventfully. One night, she did come home earlier than normal and was not sure what to expect. The house was dark, save for a small light in a room tucked behind the living room. Kara treaded lightly across the hardwood flooring towards it.

            “Grandpa Nelson, are you home?” There was nothing but the distant sound of scraping and a rasping that emanated from the room. She peered around the doorframe.

            Inside the dimly lit study was a room filled with wooden furniture everywhere. The walls breathed in towards her with their deep mahogany shelves full of books. It looked like they were alphabetized by author. In the center was a long wooden table, and on top of it was a table saw, clear jars full of various liquids, and various metal tools. Lining all of the walls was a chest-high shelf that curved across, and on it were numerous clear objects that each had a colorful item in the center.

            At the table in the center of the room sat Nelson, his head down, not even noticing Kara. Bits of clear glass surrounded the table saw as if it had just messily devoured a window pane. Nelson peered over his small spectacles at the tiny object in his hand. She watched as he gently sandpapered it until it shone and then placed it down on the table. He looked up and nearly jumped out of his seat as he saw her.

            “Jesus Christ, give an old man a heart attack, why don’t you.”

            The object he had set down on the table was a butterfly, frozen in the clearness. Nelson noticed what she was staring at and said, “Resin… it’s the best way to capture them.”

            “Where do you find them? You don’t… take them off of live ones, do you?”

            “What do I look like, a barbarian?” He glared at her over his glasses. “I find them on my morning walks around the pond.”

            She wanted to say she didn’t know that he actually got out of the house, but refrained. Instead, she said, “This one’s pretty.” She gestured at a brilliant green one.

            He slapped her hand away. “Don’t touch them! You’ll ruin their wings.”

            Kara withdrew her hand, feeling it smart. Nelson sighed, and his eyes softened slightly. “I just mean that you’ll ruin the specimens if you get your hands on them. This color will come right off.”

            Kara took a deep breath, unsure if this was the right time to apologize. She decided it was as good a time as any. “I just wanted to apologize if anything I said the other day offended you.”

            Nelson leaned back in his chair and studied her. “Your being here is an offense. I can’t believe your mother actually thought that she could send you over here as some sort of peace offering.”

            Uncharacteristic anger seared through Kara. “I am not a peace offering. I’m just here to have a nice, peaceful summer.”

            Nelson shrugged and returned to his resin. “You and me both.”

*                 *                *

            By the time Saturday rolled around, Kara all but leaped out of bed as soon as her alarm rang, snatched up her camera bag, and whisked out the door. She made sure to close it quietly.

            There was a park right next to the house, with a bike trail that wound around a body of water too big to be a pond, but too small to be a lake. Kara decided to call it a lond. The trees here looked vastly different than those back home in Washington; hardier, less green and more grey, and with many angles and tines. The smell was different, too. Her nose picked up on the tang, far more acidic and intense than that of the west coast.

            Kara absentmindedly snapped a picture of a log floating across the lond. All around, the trees whispered in the wind, and Kara thought about how the difference in trees between here and back home was so great. The trees weren’t the only things that were hardier, she mused.

            A cute duck family floated by on the ripples created by the bobbing log. The mother and father happily swam side by side, five ducklings in tow. Kara sighed, thinking of her parents. The notion of being a part of one of those broken families made her sick to her stomach. She didn’t want to think about it, so she moved on from the duck family without taking a picture.

            As she walked along the path, a flash of blue caught her eyes. Across the pavement, a brilliant blue butterfly lit atop a lone white flower. It beat its wings as if beckoning her closer. Kara crept closer, treading as lightly as if she were walking across eggshells. She’d recognize the coloring of a Blue Morpho anywhere, but what was shocking was that they were native to Latin America. What was it doing up here? She focused the camera on its beating wings. Old air out, deep breath in, ribcage up, steady. The butterfly, however, seemed to understand her intent to capture its effervescent beauty, because it took off from the flower right as she snapped the picture.

            “Come back!” she cried, swinging the camera after it. It fluttered into the air, light as a feather, and disappeared into the rustling leaves of a nearby tree. “Dammit,” she grumbled. The picture popped up on the screen, the blurred blue image of the butterfly halfway out of the frame.

            Frustrated, Kara decided to keep it on her card just in case, and stowed her camera away.

            That night, she finally decided to call her parents.

            It was her mother who picked up the phone first. “Honey, how’s it going?”

            Kara sniffed. “It’s been… tough.”

            “What’s wrong?” Her dad’s voice floated in from the background. “Has he said anything? I swear, if that bastard has done anything to make you feel bad, I’m going to-“

            “Charles, not now. Let her talk.”

            Kara’s father grumbled something in the background and Kara’s mother’s voice cracked in a way she’d never heard it before.

            “That is my father we are talking about. I know you can’t find it in your heart to forgive people, but I’m trying. I’m trying real hard. Don’t mess that up for me.

            “Sorry, honey. Are you all right?” she said into the receiver.

            Kara wiped her eyes with her sweater sleeve. “No, everything’s fine. Well, I mean, classes are a lot harder than I expected.”

            “Honey, that’s how these things are. Remember how hard it was to get into this camp? They only pick the best of the best.” There was a brief pause. “Grandpa hasn’t said anything? Your father is right about something, and that is that we’ll get you on the next flight if we have to.”

            “No, Mom. He’s been really nice to me, actually.” She felt gross in her stomach after saying this, but she swallowed several times to drown it out. “He’s quiet, but I’m glad he’s giving me a place to stay.”

            “That’s right. Say, is he around? Can you hand the phone over to him?”

            Kara knew he was sitting in the chair downstairs, watching a documentary on the warriors of the Mayan empire. “No Mom, he’s in bed sleeping.”

            “Well, I guess it is about that time.”

            Another awkward silence dragged on between them.

            “Well, I’m going to go and finish up some homework for my class.”

            “Okay dear, make sure you call again soon.”

            “Love you, mom. Tell Dad, too.”

            Silence enveloped the room. Kara stared down at her pencil and paper, unable to focus on studying about the inventor of photography. Some feeling within her had grabbed hold and wouldn’t let go. She couldn’t believe she had just lied to her parents. And her parents almost got into a spat. She hoped that things would sort themselves out once dad met Grandpa Nelson and realized that he wasn’t a bad guy, but a thought, buried deep within her, kept saying that he was every bit as awful as her father had suspected.

            The very first phone call when she had spoken with Nelson had gone fine, if not been a little odd.

            “Grandpa Nelson?” Kara had said.

            “Kara, it’s, uh, a pleasure to speak with you.” His voice had been gruff and raspy, as he he hadn’t spoken for a long while. “I hear you’re coming over here for… painting camp.”

            “Photography, Grandpa.”

            “Eh, same thing.” He coughed right into the mouthpiece. Kara thrust the phone away from her ear, and then gingerly returned it.

            “I can’t wait. I’ll finally get to meet you and spend the entire summer on the East Coast! Thanks for agreeing to let me stay with you, by the way! That’s super nice.”

            “Well, don’t get too excited,” he growled. “It won’t be all puppies and kittens.”

            Kara laughed, but the more she reflected on it in the following weeks, the less she believed it to be a joke.

            Over the next few weeks, Kara slumped into a routine. Every morning she’d wake up, eat quietly in her room, and then head out to campus, always making sure to not slam the door lest she disturb her grandfather as he sipped his morning coffee. She’d meet up with Luke by the dorms, and they’d wile away the time between classes joking about who took the best action shots, who could spit a watermelon seed the farthest into the lawn, and which student pissed Professor Callihan off the most.

            In the time stolen between classes, Kara and Luke would walk down to the mini-park on campus. Shrouded in trees, it offered just enough privacy to escape from the prying eyes of some of the teachers, but not enough for Kara to feel like a complete rebel.

            They plunked down on a waist-high wall that ringed the park, underneath the boughs of a dark-wooded tree that Kara had never seen before.

            “Luke, do you have trees like this down in Rhode Island?”

            Luke glanced upwards, his eyebrows furrowing. “Nah, too humid where I’m from. This poor guy’s been through some tough winters. Look here,” his finger traced through deep gouges in the bark. “The cold has cracked him wide open.” Kara reached out and felt the cool wood against her fingers. “Like scars.”

            Luke contemplated that for a while. “Good thing humans don’t have bark or we’d all be a hot mess of scars,” he laughed.

            Luke reached around into his backpack and pulled out a wrapped cylindrical shape. He took it out of the wrapping and put it to his lips, lighting it. The smoke smelled like rotten skunk as it rolled out from the joint.

            “Luke, what are you doing?” Kara laughed. “You silly, do you want to get caught?”

            Luke inhaled and breathed the smoke out of his mouth.

            “Nah, Kara, we won’t get caught. That’s why we’re all the way out here. No one comes over here. You want some?” he proffered it towards her.

            She crinkled up her nose and shook her head.

            “You’re never going to see the real art in the world, Kara, if you don’t open up to the ultimate truth that is available to us by these gatekeepers.” He pushed the joint further towards her.

            “Luke, I said no!”

            He shook his head and laughed. “Someday.”

            They sat in silence until someone walked their dog on the path across the park, far enough away from them for the smoke to not be sensed. Luke’s eyes tracked them as they disappeared behind a tree.

            “Damn people and their pets. True beauty can’t be tamed.”

            “What are you, some animal rights activist?” she teased.

            He shrugged and put out the joint. “Just want to keep beauty where beauty’s meant to be, out in its natural habitat.” He hopped off the wall and offered her a hand, which she took. “I suppose we better get to class sometime today.”

*                 *                *

            Every morning as she walked out the door, he’d call after her what he deemed “pieces of wisdom.” They ranged from almost useful (“Always carry your own condom in case a boy wants to bang you on the dining hall table”) to horrifying (“Don’t piss off the Sanders next door. Marty’s a serial killer, but no one’s reporting him to the police. So don’t get any funny ideas if you want to live”) to downright mean (“That dress actually does make you look fat.”).

            Kara learned a lot more about what her Grandpa Nelson detested than what he actually liked. Grandpa Nelson hated Democrats, conservative Republicans, neighbors, small dogs, curly-haired dogs, white dogs, kittens (“One once ate my Brazilian Goldfin. Needless to say neither animal was alive much longer than the other”), pressing “1” at ATMs for English, Jehovah’s witnesses, Girl Scouts, Boy Scouts, anyone claiming to be a “Scout,” shoehorns, the Empire State building, and the government (except for Sarah Palin). He mildly hated grocery store clerks, cotton balls, the cawing of crows, and the smell of curry. He passionately hated marijuana, “youths”, “youths” smoking marijuana, “youths” driving cars, “youths” speaking louder than 20 decibels (at least that’s what Kara gathered), “youths” having loud sex, “youths” riding bicycles on the road, and The New York Times.

            She knew that he liked coffee.

*                 *                *

            Kara liked Shot Composition the most out of all of her classes. This was one of the two classes that Professor Callihan didn’t teach, and she and Luke liked to discuss the shirts that their teacher, a grad student named Stephen, wore. Today, he was wearing plaid: light gray, navy blue, softened red, all intersecting to form a darker gray. Kara decided that she liked the dark gray the most. Reminded her of cloudy days, the perfect lighting for photography.

            They had a little bit of downtime before Stephen showed up, and Kara decided to show Luke the pictures she had taken over the past few weeks.

            “Damn, you have a great eye for composition. And the lighting in this one is spectacular.” He pointed at a black and white one she had taken of the ripples on the lond. It was one that would make Stephen proud with its composition. “Kara, you’re onto something here.” Kara smiled as he kept flipping through the pictures. She liked watching his eyes as they tracked over each image, liked to ponder what went on as he analyzed the world from within his head. What did Luke see in the world?

            Then Luke came across one with a flash of blue. It was vaguely familiar. “Oh, don’t look at that one,” Kara sputtered. “I should delete it.” Embarrassment washed over her as she tried to wrest the camera from his grip, but he held on tight as if it were his own.

            “No. No, keep it.”

            “Why?”

            “I can feel the fuzziness about it.” Luke always felt the fuzziness if he particularly liked something but couldn’t quite describe why. “Like there’s some deeper meaning behind it.”

            Kara stopped her struggle, frustrated that he hadn’t given her back her own camera. “I’ve thought about it for a while, but I couldn’t come up with anything so I forgot about it. It was just strange seeing this species thousands of miles north of its home. It was almost as if it was lost.”

            “A lost butterfly, a disappearing species, a dying planet! Kara, I think you’re onto something. It… it reminds me of you.” He looked up at her and smiled such a smile that suffused his face in a warm glow from within, as if a camera had flashed from layers within and the light had traveled far to get to the surface.

            “W-what? Of me?” she said. Her heart beat faster.

            “Yes. Reminds me of how wonderfully rare and fleeting beauty is.”

            Kara wanted nothing more than to breach that little bit of space they had kept between them for a month, to cross that gap, wrap her arms around him,  feel their lips collide together. Instead, she coughed and said, “Do you want to come to my place tomorrow night? You can finally meet Grandpa Nelson.”

            “Your crotchety old patriarch who makes your mornings a living hell?” Kara made a face. “Come on, Kara, I know the signs of verbal abuse. You’re always so tired and, to be quite honest, boring as hell in the mornings. Telltale signs of a shitty home life.” He laughed and nudged her playfully with an elbow.

            “Ugh, you are awful. Just come for supper tomorrow, alright? Besides, you’ll get to skip the dorm’s supper.”

            Luke sighed in mock exasperation. “You got me there.”

*                 *                *

            She finally realized what had been itching at the back of her mind for a long time. It had come forth when Nelson went out on a rare trip to the store and left his keys on the coffee table. As she grabbed them from the top of the stack of newspapers, she noticed what looked like a laminated page poking out underneath. She gently removed his coffee mug and the stack to reveal a single newspaper article. The plastic edges were curled with age, and dirt was engrained in the surface, but she could still make out her grandmother’s face. “Nelson, Helen A. Age 56. Helen passed away on July 9th, 2005.” Kara thought that this was sad. After all, that day was two days from now. Then it all clicked: no wonder why Grandpa Nelson had been so ornery all summer.

            Gingerly, Kara placed the newspapers back on top of the obituary, making sure to position them the way she had found them. She felt a strange sense of warmth flow through her, and realized that it was peace. Perhaps in the coming weeks Grandpa Nelson would feel more like himself and be less caustic.

            Kara took a deep breath, her hand hovering in front of the lock of the back door, deliberating. Finally, curiosity overwhelmed her and she slipped the key into the lock, twisting it sharply to the left. The door swung open with a slight creak. Kara had to know what was back there that he was so damn secretive about. In the first week she had casually explored the upstairs, looking for windows that overlooked the backyard. Oddly enough, the only one was so grimy on the outside that she couldn’t see more than the shingles immediately underneath it. And the fence was wooden and incredibly high, and Kara wasn’t enough of a “youth” to attempt to scale it and see what lied beyond.

            But there it was. A small, completely glass building sat in the back corner of the yard, surrounded by the conspicuously high fence. The neighbors would even have trouble seeing it from their second story window. Kara thought that it must be a greenhouse, but as she studied it she noticed that it wasn’t green at all. Inside were thousands of small creatures, some dotting the walls and ceilings at random, others clumped together in masses that writhed and seemed to breathe all together. As she got closer, their pulsating shimmer made itself apparent. She knew exactly what they were: butterflies.

            Kara didn’t even realize that she had her camera out before she was viewing the shifting masses through the eye piece. She knelt down, planting her knee firmly on the ground for extra support. A burnt orange and black butterfly sat on top of a leaf a few feet behind the glass, seemingly communing with a friend on the twig next to it. They both beat their wings as their antennae dipped and gently brushed one another. Deep breath in, steady hands. Steady. Steady…

            A gentle pressure from above lowered the camera away from her eye. Kara looked up to see Grandpa Nelson staring down at her. A strange emotion played across his face, one that she hadn’t seen before.

            “They were her favorite creatures.”

            Before she could ask, she understood: her grandmother Helen. Nelson opened the glass door to the building and slipped inside. Kara feared breaking the bizarre tranquility, so she kept her mouth closed as she followed him in, gawking at the kaleidoscopic wings that soared all about her head. Grandpa Nelson turned around and gave her a look she immediately registered. She made sure to close the door quickly behind her.

            “This one was her absolute favorite.” On his finger was a magnificent blue butterfly, exactly like the one Kara had seen in the park. “The Blue Morpho. Native to the rainforests of Latin America. Breathtaking, isn’t it?” Her grandfather’s smile softened the angry lines that usually crisscrossed his face. He seemed less like a wizened tree in this instance and more like a warm sand dune.

            They both watched the blue butterfly as it sat calmly on his finger, Kara thinking about the man she thought she had gotten to know over the past month, and he, she assumed, thinking about Helen. The butterfly took off from his finger and gently flew away. They both watched it soar up in lazy spirals to the top of the butterfly house and disappear into the tops of one of the thin trees that scraped the ceiling.

            “They like to hitch a ride out, so allow me to check you before we leave.” He spun Kara around, wiping down her shirt. He motioned for her to do the same to him, and then they both exited and walked towards the house.

             “I knew you’d get in there sooner or later.” Then he stopped in his tracks. “I shouldn’t have shown you that. Tell anyone and I’ll sprinkle fiberglass onto your toothbrush. That’ll clean your gums for ya.” He continued walking up the steps and into the house.

*                 *                *

            Kara couldn’t control her heartbeat. A million crystalline wings fluttered against her stomach, trilling vibrations on the frequencies just below shattering. She felt elated that her clammy hand was wrapped in Luke’s as she trudged up the stairs with him in tow. She entered without knocking, letting out a breath in a gust of wind.

            “Mr. Nelson, I want you to meet someone!”

            A fuzzy woman’s voice speaking in what sounded like Spanish came from the living room. Kara peered around the corner. Luke squeezed her hand twice.

            Nelson reclined in his chair, slippered feet on the coffee table as usual. He slurped obnoxiously from the steaming mug of black coffee in his hand, and then turned up the volume on the TV. Everything seemed normal.

            “Grandpa Nelson, I wa-”

            “Don’t call me that,” he yelled. He took a long slurp without removing his eyes from images of vibrant flamenco dancers on screen.

            Kara felt Luke’s hand leave hers, felt her shirt brush against her skin as he pushed past her and entered the living room. “Nice to meet you, sir. My name’s Luke. I’m Kara’s friend from class. I’m sure she’s told you about me.” He extended his hand. Kara could see his whole arm quiver. She hoped that Nelson didn’t notice.

            Nelson’s gaze flicked up to meet Luke’s face, and a sneer contorted his mouth. Kara felt a sinking feeling in her gut. “Oh, yes, that’s right,” he said with more venom than usual, squinting in mock recognition. A feeling of dread rose up in Kara. “You’re the pansy-ass art-banger I knew she’d somehow manage to bring home. I just didn’t expect you to be so much flimsier than the one last week.” He looked pointedly at Kara. She was sure her face looked shocked enough for him, as he said, “Isn’t that all you women do, leave men who are worth it for the dumb fuck next door?”

            Luke’s outstretched hand clenched into a fist. “Do you speak to her like that all of the time?”

            Nelson stared at Luke. After a pause, he set his coffee cup down with a clink, and then stood up. He was eye-to-eye with Luke.

            “She’s never done anything to you,” Luke continued. “I know Kara, and she’s the sweetest girl I’ve ever met. She’d do anything for some-”

            “She’s her grandmother’s spawn. If she’s anything like her mother, her grandmother, then she’ll abandon you, too. Don’t put your faith in her.”

            “I’m not sorry, Mr. Nelson,” Luke snarled. “I am not sorry that your wife apparently walked out on your sorry ass. That’s all you deserve.”

            Nelson lunged forward and pushed his finger into Luke’s chest. Hard. Luke stumbled backwards a few steps before catching his balance. “I’ve killed pansy asses like you. In a place forgotten by everyone here in this shit-country, but I’ve killed pansy asses like you before the time you finish your fruit loops in the morning.”

            Kara grabbed Luke’s arm, trying to break the deadlock between them. “Luke, let’s just go!” She hissed. She tugged and tugged and tugged until finally the resistance gave and he took a step back.

            Luke struggled to come up with a retort. She could see the thoughts racing across his eyes. Finally, he spat, “She’s not living with you anymore. She’s staying with me.”

            “That’s exactly what I wanted to hear.”

            Luke nodded, unsure of what to do after being agreed with. “Kara, let’s get your things.” Kara stared at him in shock, then back at Grandpa Nelson. His hands repeatedly clenched and unclenched as if they were around Luke’s throat. She couldn’t just leave him. This was her home, this was supposed to be where she was going to stay over the summer. She was supposed to help Grandpa Nelson get over his family leaving him…

            It was all a blur as they threw everything they could get their hands on into two suitcases: clean clothes, dirty clothes, toiletries, school supplies, and a single sketchbook. Kara only barely remembered to snag her camera bag before they fled down the stairs and out into the night.

            Eventually they found themselves in the park, the one ringing the lond. Kara burst into tears. “Oh my god, what have we just done? I can’t believe that happened…”

            Luke gently stroked her back in consolation. “It’s not your fault, Kara. At all.” He took in a breath, then murmured, “What a fucking piece of scum, yelling at you like that. It’s not your fault his wife walked out on him.”

            Kara sobbed harder. She felt Luke’s arms wrap around her, enveloping her in a cloak that felt as warm as the sun. She nestled into the crook of his arm and cried.

            They sat there together for hours and watched the moon flicker across the caps of the small waves. Suddenly, she felt him move beside her. She heard him unzip his backpack, and then the crinkling of a package as he withdrew it.

             “Wanna try this time?” He unwrapped the package to reveal several joints.

            Kara shook her head. “Luke, I don’t think now’s the best time.”

            “Kara, trust me. It’ll calm you down, make you feel some form of peace that you might not get in a while. Also, I’ve told you before, you’re not a true art student until you’ve partaken in the grass.” He nudged the joint into her fingers.

            She took one look at the stubby greenness and curled up her nose. Luke looked on disapprovingly. “Kara, if you ever did one thing for me, do this. It’ll help you.”

            She rolled her eyes and smiled sheepishly. “Okay, fine.” She brought the roll to her lips.

            Luke’s eyes twinkled as he flicked the lid of his wolf-patterned lighter and lit the end of her joint, then his own. In the gathering darkness, their two glowing points of light were the only sources of light other than the moon-capped waves.

            Kara coughed as she inhaled.

            “Good shit, isn’t it?”

            She nodded, but she wasn’t sure if it was in assent or just to clear the smoke out of her nostrils.

            They both sat on a log overlooking the lond for a time. Luke borrowed Kara’s camera and tried to get cool shots of her silhouetted in front of the waves. She tossed her hair, struck poses, hip out, hand up. Their mixed laughter rang through the empty park, growing louder as Kara felt more and more at ease. The world began to look more colorful, even in the darkness, and an overwhelming sense of calm and serenity flowed through her. She finally understood that perhaps Luke had been right about being a true art student all along.

            They didn’t talk a lot, just took pictures. Maybe this was who they were, two misfits looking at the world through a lens.

            As it approached midnight, Kara suddenly had a wonderful idea. “Let me show you something.” She grabbed his arm and started running, laughing as she felt the wind comb its fingers through her hair, and the moon smiled down upon her and whispered that everything would be all right.

*                 *                *

            “Be quiet. And boost me up!”

            She stepped her foot into Luke’s interlocked hands and prepped herself, unsure if he had her weight. He nodded and mouthed at her to go. With a sudden burst of confidence, she launched herself up and planted her hands firmly on the top of the fence. The metal felt smooth inside her palms. Strange that Nelson hasn’t put barbed wire up yet. Damned youths. She giggled, which made it all the harder to hoist herself up and over the fence.

            She landed heavily on the other side. Luke landed beside her with a cat’s grace; she couldn’t help but wonder if he had done this before with other yards.

            “Whoa,” Luke breathed as he saw the moonlit surface of the butterfly house. They slowly crept towards it, skirting the back of the house for fear of motion-activated lighting. It was dark, but they could see the ever-changing shadows cast by the butterflies on the ground in the white wash of light. Kara jiggled the door handle, but it was locked, as she suspected.

            “We can’t get inside. We need the key.”

            Silence met her declaration. Something was wrong. “We should leave soon,” Kara offered, not sure what had changed in her adventure-loving friend. Luke simply stared off into the distance. “I’m not sure if he heard us hop the fence or not.” She wrung her hands nervously and checked the back door for a light.

            “Kara, this is unnatural,” Luke finally whispered.

            “What?” Everything felt like warm honey drizzling down her throat and filling her up from the toes to her shoulders. She had never felt this good in her life, so how could anything be unnatural?

            “You can’t keep beauty in a cage like this.”

            She scoffed, “Luke, it’s just a butterfly garden. People keep animals in cages all the time, far more exotic than butterflies.”

            “No, but not him. Not these.” Luke turned on his heel and began searching through the grass.

            Kara felt a growing sense of unease. “Luke, what are you doing?” she whispered. Her voice rose to an agitated hiss. “Luke! I know you hate it when animals are locked up, but just let him have this one thing.”

            Luke stood up, an object held in his left hand. “Don’t you see that he’s built a damn prison for them? Like he has for you? I can’t allow this to exist.” He took a step back and drew his arm back. The glint of the moon revealed a rock in his hand. “You might want to get your camera ready for this.”

            Kara didn’t know what she was doing at the time. All she knew was that the butterflies had to stay where they were, that the moon was too bright for anything awful to happen, for any life-shattering event to come along and trample on Grandpa Nelson’s life any further. The height of the moon showed that the world had turned into July 9th, and nothing awful could happen.

            Through the calming fog that enveloped her limbs, Kara ran at Luke and tried to wrestle the rock from his hand. They worked against one another for a brief second, tendons straining, muscles tense, until Luke wrenched the rock away angrily and shoved Kara onto the ground. She couldn’t catch herself and landed hard on her rear.

            And then the rock was sailing through the air from Luke’s outstretched arm, end over end, right into the glass wall of the butterfly house. There was a magnificently loud shattering noise, and then silence. Several seconds passed before a tiny trickle of beating wings took to the sky, first a pair, then two, then four. It wasn’t the magical torrent of wings Kara might have imagined, but she felt a crushing agony in her chest all the same.

            “Shit…” Luke looked at Kara, then at the hole in the house, then at his open hand, his face a palette of shock and horror. Then a muffled cry, wretched and full of piercing anguish, shattered the night air. Grandpa Nelson, engulfed in a long woolen robe and not even wearing shoes, hobbled towards them from the backdoor of the house, and then collapsed on his knees in the dirt. He wailed. His voice grated against Kara’s ears in a harsh ethereal plea.

            “Holy Christ, Kara. I’m so sorry.” Kara barely heard Luke’s whisper. He offered his hands to her in desperation. Kara ignored him, thrust her hands into the dirt and pushed herself up. She ran over to Nelson as Luke kept repeating, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” in a mantra that only made her feel more and more disgusted.

            “Grandpa Nelson.” His eyes darted around desperately, as if he hadn’t heard her. “Grandpa Nelson! I’m right here.” His eyes slowly met hers. Kara felt as if she were looking into wells that tunneled down into dark depths. “She’s… leaving…me,” Nelson choked as he looked up. She watched his wild eyes as they flitted about, watching the butterflies as they slowly flew out into the vast sky.

            “I’m right here, Grandpa. I’m right here,” she said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say other than that, so she kept repeating it. Without even realizing it, she found her arms wrapped around him in a hug, finding neither resistance nor a reciprocal embrace.

            A hand touched her shoulder. “Kara, is he okay? I’m so so-“

            “Leave!” she screamed, turning on him. “Leave and go fuck up someone else’s life, alright?” For a second, she saw the deep hurt in his eyes. It seemed like the ugliest thing she had ever seen. She wanted to vomit, to punch him in the face, anything to purge his face from her vision.

            Then the look was gone, iced over by a layer of distant coldness. Luke didn’t say anything else that night; one moment he was there, the next he had just disappeared into the darkness. Kara didn’t care, didn’t even notice that he had left. She hugged Grandpa Nelson tight for what seemed like hours. In the end, she felt his arms loosen as if they were about to move, to embrace her back, but then they stiffened and she withdrew. A sudden shadow played across his face. Kara looked up to see the moon nestled in between two pine trees that twisted in the wind, causing flickers of shadows to play upon the ground. One of the trees twisted in the wind, dipping in front to block the light, never quite touching its neighbor as a single butterfly, one of the last out of the prison, flew untouched between them into the night.