Original Stories Fan Fiction ❯ Butterflies & The Net ❯ Chapter 1: What Craig and Dem Had Said ( Chapter 1 )

[ T - Teen: Not suitable for readers under 13 ]

Butterflies & the Net by iloveanimecartoons

Genre(s): Psychological/Angst/Drama/Romance
Rating: T
Latest Revision: July 31, 2007

Chapter 1: See, what Craig and dem had said…

“I—HIC—HATE cats!” Solya murmured

./' Nobody knows who I really am

./' I never fell this clumsy before

`Wait…what did I just say? Ah well…'

./' And if I ever need someone to…hum, hum, hu-um…

./' Who's gonna comfort me and keep me strong?

./' Tabi wa mama…um…Suzy Q Subaru…

`O lawd, this song is depressing…oh, I know!'

./' Just lookin' out of da window watching the asp…ask.. asph…--HIC--ants all ro-o-o-oll

./' Drinkin' draft and all that nasty wine

./' GOOD TI—

“Uh….no,” Jerrod a.k.a. Peanut Butter cut in, “If you're gonna sing the CLASSICS, puh-LEAZEget it right…and, PLEASEdon't keep eating that whole bag of Sun Chips! Better for you or not, you STILLjust ate more than the proper serving!”

“You just hatin' `cause I can blow, PB! And I ain't ate jack since yesterday, so I'm allowed to double up,” Solya replied, wiping her slightly most, crumby hands on her friend's immaculate silk shirt.

“A-Ayo, what the friggin he—!”

“Ah ah…what your language in front of a LADY—DAMN IT!”

“YOU?!Oh, that's RICH! I've seen more femininity in the Dallas Cowboys locker room!” Jerrod interjected, scowling at his shirt, mentally tabulating the dry cleaning bill.

“Yeah, a'ight…I HEAR you. What can I say? I'm a tomboy and I'm proud! I'm also roughly the SIZE of the Dallas Cowboys locker room, so being ladylike is the LEAST of my problems.”

“Mhmm, I hear you. All so very true, and ye—HEY!” Jerrod said, ducking since Solya was attempting to hurl her bottle of Pepsi One at her best friend's head.

Laughing, Solya braced herself in Crane Style striking pose, playfully. “Bring it, Peanut Butter & Jelly Time!”

Jerrod chuckled lowly. “Hardy har…go, Daniel-san! You better quit that before you fall over and I doubt your testing the laws of physics will prove beneficial on your poor floor,” he teased.

“You're nowhere NEAR as funny as you believe yourself to be. If you're gonna try to crack on me, at least work on your punch line—that was lame, sad, and weak...you, uh, get my drift?” Solya murmured, chin dropping a bit, eyes darting around the room.

“You really don't wanna go there with me…I was hoping to spare your feelings, dude.” Jerrod warned, “But, if you INSIST…” Jerrod suddenly stopped laughing and reached over to lift her chin with his fist, and stared at her seriously. “Nah, dude, I was joking; Bumper Ca—Solya…you know that, right?” Solya smiled blandly and nodded.

“DUDE, suck it up, man!” Jerrod tried, hoping to get a true smile out of his `wannabe tomboy' of a best friend.

She sucked her lower lip in, upper lip quivering slightly.

“Hey…” he hedged, stroking the outer curve of her ear, “Its okay…really…I wasn't serious and I, um, I'm proud of you, too. Solya, you, uh, believe me, right?”

“I—sure!” she agreed, a little too quickly and a little too cheerfully, eyes still not meeting Jerrod's.

He shook his head slowly and winced.

Jerrod punched her on the upper left arm and laughed, pulling her into a tight hug. That was his way; treat her like one of the guys, but always remembering—at least to himself—that his best friend was a girl, after all. Pride be damned! She was going through and he was close enough to her to get through all the fronts and masks she hid behind to give her the affection she needs—ONLY when they're alone. That was the rule. He was the only one she knew that could get this close and not get clobbered.

Solya Amarante: tomboy, friend, confidante, and lover of all things manly and neutral…comfortable…safe. She lived life in a comfort zone; doing everything on HER terms—love her for who she is or get the hell out! That was her motto…ONE of them. One of the many. An idiosyncrasy, and oxymoron, a paradox, and enigma...and, inside, a child curled up tightly in the fetal position, silently crying out for a touch, a hope, a connection…a purpose and a reason…and a sense of worth. Never would he tell her—not again, he promised her, long ago—how precious she was to him. She couldn't take it, could she? How could such a toughened and all-around strong woman be so fragile? He knew. Oh, did he…

Solya sighed gruffly and let him hug her. Yeah, cracks, insults, hurtful sayings, they stung. A life of ridicule and hurtful words, of comparisons and isolation, she'd learned the fine art of sucking it up and throwing back words, changing subjects, utter sarcasm, laughing at the obvious, no matter what the inner damage. After all, she was what everyone said she was, wasn't she? Obese. That's what her doctor, therapist and nutritionist called it.

Well, not really all that much from PB.

`He's just playing. Peanut Butter'd NEVER hurt me. He's my BOY!' she sighed, and then giggled in her mind.

According to her best friend and, to her estimation, `Perfect Guy'—though she'd NEVER tell him—her life is the stuff of best sellers. Filled with more ups and downs, inconsistencies, hurts and pain than he believes ANY woman, or child, for that matter, should ever have to endure; he'd always been her buffer against the trials of life. But, in an attempt to make a change for the better and take control of her life, she finally decided… `I need help…I do.'

“Jerrod…?”

“Jerrod, huh? Okay, this sounds serious enough; what's up, Sol?”

“I need help and…I'd like…if you can…will you come with me…I need you—um, support. I just can't stop it anymore, the feelings, PB. The nightmares are ju—”

“Sol…”

Nodding jerkily, she sighed, “Yeah. They're back, Jerr…ah hell, they never really left; they just eased up some…”

“Sol…um…Sol, I…”

“It ain't your fault so don't go getting all choked up and all guilty an' stuff, you here me?”

He gave her a curt nod. “Um, yeah…and, yeah, I'll go with you…but…”

Shaking his head, he cringed inside, wondering if this was the wrong thing to ask.

`No,' he told himself, `I need to be sure this time.'

Jerrod squared his shoulders as he grabbed hersand asked the question he hadto ask before he dedicated himself to this.

“Sol…I'll go and…I'll trust you to see this through this time, but…don't close up on me again, okay? Will you promise me? `Cause I'm your friend and you really cantrust me with anything—you knowthat, right?”

Solya lifted her head to lock eyes with those of her best friend. She felt uncomfortable; this wasn't the way she ran things with her friends. Yes, she trusted him and all, but,hewas getting way too serious for her own comfort, right about now… Most of her wanted to laugh it off, change the subject, run away—honesty, necessity, made her stay.

“Y-y-yes…I…I promise,” she vowed, stomach churning, she was feeling that uncomfortable, weird feeling again.

`His eyes…snap outof it, Sol! It's just PB. Just move away.'

“Um, PB,Can you—?” she started—it ended with a tiny squeak as he wrapped her up in a fierce hug.

She tensed up and gritted her teeth as her eyes watered.

`NO!'she thought, irritably, `No tears! NO MORE fucking tears!Stopit! Stop it, NOW!'

And, this hug wasn't helping. A huge part of her wanted to return it, but that smaller, yet more prevalent part of her--that inner child rolled up in a ball, facing away from everyone, content to comfort and protect itself—shook off that notion. So, she accepted what he offered, reminding herself that he was just concerned and to not read too much into it.

“I care about you, man…so, you just remember that promise and I'll take care of the rest, Sol,” hewhisperedto her, after about a minute of silence.

Kissing her on her cheek, he let go and winced when he saw the tightness of her expression, the vulnerability, the frustration, the embarrassment and ultimately, the hurt; how much did it mean to her to allow him—anyone, for that matter—to see her tears?

Reaching out his hand to wipe her tears, he vowed to himself that he would always make her smile.

“I know you don't like to hear it, but, I do, Sol…you know what I mean…so, don't be afraid to let me know how you feel, `kay?”

Solya nodded, knowing he meant to say he loved her but not wanting to make her feel anymore uncomfortable, he didn't say the actual words. She loved him, too, didn't she? Like a little bit of everything good and nice and comfortable and secure in her life, well, that was PB. She needed him. And he wasn't ever gonna leave her. Ever…

Jerking out of her sleep, wondering why she just had to have a dream of that particular day, Solya opened her eyes and stared at her surroundings in a dazed way, wondering how she got here.

“PB?” she slurred, wiping the side of her mouth with the heel of her hand, “G'Morning…how'd I get here?

“Sol? Oh my Go—you cannot be serious. I just drove you here like 20 minutes ago! Wake up and stop leaning on me…oh no that is not slobber on my new jersey—Sol!” Jerrod hissed at Solya, as she nodded off for the second time this morning. He bumped up against her to wake her up again.

“Huh? Who said that? Oh, PB! Good Morning! How you doin'?”

“You…you already said that, Sol,” Jerrod muttered, rolling his eyes.

“Get outta here! Déjà vu? Cool! Sorry, PB. You see, I had that recurring nightmare about being locked in school overnight with thousands of your gym sneakers and, well…” Solya trailed off with a chuckle, trying to hide a yawn behind her fist—didn't work.

“How long, this time, Sol?” Jerrod asked, regarding her bout with restlessness, ignoring, completely, her very sad attempt at humor.

“Just till 6:40 something…I got three hot hours of sleep, this time. Call it a power nap! I'm cool,” Solya replied as perky as she could, considering some of her words had to be sounded out a bit slower for proper pronunciation.

“Yup, it's official. Chick can't crack or lie worth squat…oh, the shame…”

“Shut up, PB! You're so stupid!” Solya laughed out, punching Jerrod on the arm—hard.

“Ms. Amarante? Dr. Busch will see you, now,” the receptionist announced.

Solya gulped and glanced at Jerrod.

`This is it, huh?'

Jerrod gave her arm a reassuring squeeze and pushed her forward, when she faltered.

“You've got more guts than the entire NFL—go get `em, Sol!”

“Y-yeah…sure!” she exclaimed, walking towards the psychiatrist's office. Grimacing suddenly, she whimpered and cringed, reaching her hand out to Jerrod.

“You really want me to be privy to such private things, Sol? Think about it? I'm just here for support, so, you go in and I'll be here, when you're done.” he assured.

“You know I trust you with everything I am, Jerrod Domingo…”

“Yes, I do. But, I need you to trust yourself for now. I'll be right there with you,” he assured, passing her his Driver's License.

Laughing, she accepted his license. “You, Jerrod, are touched. Thanks for “being there for me”…nerd! Ok, I guess I'm off?”

“Yeah,” he replied with a hard swallow, “You're a trooper, Solya Deja Amarante—you'll be just fine!”

“You have so much confidence in me, PB,” she whispered, accepting the hand he extended to her and squeezed it, “Um…thank you, friend.”

“Sure…go on, now! Give me a chance to miss ya!” he teased, though his face held a solemn expression. `She'll be fine.'

“Okay...”

<(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)> (>^^<) <(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)> (>^^<) <(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)> (>^^<) <(^^<) <(^^)> (>^^)>

Solya made her way out of Dr. Busch's office and whistled low to let Jerrod know she was ready. Five sessions in four weeks and, so far, so good, she figured. The relaxation techniques were starting to take effect and her sleep pattern was much more regulated. She looked much more at ease and energized, and a lot less stressed, Jerrod noticed; and that realization brought a smile to his face.

“So, how was the session? A little shock therapy to go with that Prozac, huh?” Jerrod teased

“Don't lose your day job, PB,” Solya drawled, “Humor's not your thing…and, the session, and it was okay. Mild actually—you really could've come in with me for this one.”

“Oh yeah, I forgot, the first few do just hit on review and goals and stuff. But, did they suggest a stay this time or meds or anything?”

“For now, just journaling and she gave me the name of a good nutritionist…I'm gonna do it, this time, PB! I'm ready!”

Jerrod nodded his head and rubbed his chin, thoughtfully. For Solya, Jerrod knew, this wasn't just a run of the mill change of self—makeovers and shopping sprees and quick fix diets—no, she was ready for a complete makeover, a complete change of self. Sure, people say it all the time, New Years being the prime time—always around the lines of, “This time, I vow to do this” or “I promise to change that” or “This time, I'll do this differently” or “This time, I'm gonna get it right” and so on and so forth…

This time, well, it didn't really fit those molds, per se...Not for Solya. Her makeover, well, it was mental and emotional as well as physical; and she meant to put herself on the hotplate, this time. Her idea was original, to say the least; not without it's possible downsides, but, Jerrod had to admit to himself, was well-thought out and planned between her, her psychiatrist and himself. He'd do most of the technical aspects of it and be a coach, a friend, and a `part-time slave driver', as she put it…basically, he'd keep her on his toes.

“I believe you. And I've got your back. But, remember, you told me not to let up—I won't, so don't go fussing when I do just that,” he reminded her, smugly.

Solya grinned, leading Jerrod toward the revolving doors of the medical building, arm in arm. “Good to know, pal,” she returned with a wink, “I'll hold you to that…”

A/N: So, that's Chapter One. I know folks are going “Huh? WTH happened? What's wrong with her? What's she gonna do? What'd her psychiatrist say?” and all other such stuff, in that same vein. Don't worry, the next chapter will touch on that. This story will be going on for a while, so the details will come, just not always as compacted as they were in the first chapter. As the story goes along, you'll see why I'm writing it the way I am. I'd appreciate not getting flames as it would really not help a great deal in my motivation to continue on a regular basis and they tend to not have much helpful information to move the storyline along. If you think this story sucks to high heaven, be a dear a find a polite way of expressing that, along with HELPFUL hints as to what would help you get the most out of your reading. I'll try to update weekly. Until next time, have a great summer and enjoy those freak thunderstorms! ROFL