Lycaenidae

Still plugging away at this writing thing. In March, I challenged myself with the Autocrit Short Story Challenge, which was a lot of fun. The requirements were established on week one (1000 words EXACTLY, about chaos, must be set in a community center, must use the word “vex.”), then twists were added the next few Tuesdays. Anyway, here’s my lightly polished submission.

    The initial confusion was just that…confused initials. Sloane Young, PhD (SYoung@adarecollege.edu) routinely received emails for new Associate Professor of Business Marketing, Stefan Young (SAYoung@adarecollege.edu). In turn, he often opened attachments that revealed Giant Hissing Cockroaches and other specimens that would elicit scream from the otherwise staid researcher. This happened so frequently that they had laughed over it when they finally met at the fall mixer, an unlikely meet-cute that led a low-key relationship that other staff members dubbed “The Bug Doctor and the Ad Man.”  

But alas, Stefan suffered from entomophobia. Weirdly, centipedes didn’t bother him. Sloane could never reconcile that with the man who fled the room when she discussed her work on Lycaenidae with colleagues. How could he not want to know that a group of them was called a “kaleidoscope”? 

Over time,  fewer and fewer incorrect emails landed in Sloane’s inbox. It had been months since the last one. Usually, she’d forwarded them without pausing to look at the inevitable, boring graphs. But today, something made her  pause. Perhaps it was the subject line: Our proofs are here!!!!!!!

She picked up the green plastic bottle cap she used to soothe herself, running her fingers across its ridges until her racing brain slowed and fixed on one word: proofs. 

Proofs? Her head argued this was a phishing email, but her heart thudded a nauseating warning.  Below her, in the rec room, a Zumba class heaved and sweated.

Finally, she drew in a deep breath and clicked on the attachment. Up popped a pink and gold confection of an invitation, and smack dab in the center sat a picture of the happy couple: a perky, perfect blonde (who was everything Sloane was not) teary-eyed and grinning at Stefan. He looked the same smarmy ass he’d always been, even if she had been too blind to see that.  

Butterflies dotted the border of the invite.  Oh, he’s going to love that. Then another detail caught her eye and catapulted her out of her rolling chair. “Here?” she ranted to the four walls. “Here! Not only did he lie. Not only is he marrying someone else, but he’s having the ceremony and reception here.” It wasn’t that she disliked Patrick O’Collins Memorial Community Center. She actually loved its quirky, faux thatched cottage architecture. What she hated is that her office had been crammed into the far wing while the never-ending renovation of her lab occurred.

Before she could over-think, she forwarded the message to Stefan. When the phone rang, she ignored it. Same with her cell…all six times. She tried to get back to grading the endless papers, but her brain wouldn’t focus. Instead, she doodled tiny butterflies on her notepad, mind whirring, soul plotting. The slam of her decrepit door against her equally decrepit bookshelf broke her from her reverie. Stefan stood in the doorway, chest heaving, tie askew, color high.

And in that moment, she felt nothing at all. A frosty numbness enveloped her heart. “Hello, Stefan.” 

“Sloane.” He threw his hands out pleadingly. “I–”

She cut him off. “Shut up, Stefan, and go away.”

He slumped, then straightened. “Well, I must say, you’re taking this remarkably well.”

That was the second misunderstanding.

Three months, two weeks of tears, and one drunken sob fest with her best friend later, Sloane waited her turn to greet the happy couple. The bride lived up to the invitation in her spangled, ruffled, ballgown, but Sloane found she didn’t hate the woman. Kayleigh was exceptionally nice. 

A few minutes later, Stefan grabbed her hand and began mumbling his thanks, until he saw who it was.  “Aaaaah.”

“Congratulations.” Sloane leaned forward. “Does my presence vex you?”

His grip tightened. “VEX me? No, it fucking pisses me off.”

She straightened. “I LOVE that for you.” She turned and flashed her brightest smile at Kayleigh. “Congratulations.”

“Cousin Sloane!” Kayleigh swept her into a hug. “I am so glad to see you. You know, I still can’t believe Stefan forgot to tell me about you.”

Sloane extricated herself from Kayleigh’s grip. “Well, he’s like that.”

The bride frowned at her groom. “Yeah, he is.” She brightened.  “Anyway, I hope you’re staying for the reception, especially after all your help with the surprise.” 

“Surprise?” Stefan frowned.

“Oh, I wouldn’t miss it for the world.”

Sloane had to admit that the rec room looked far different today. Gone were the balance balls and ratty posters, replaced with garland and swag and tables laden with food and gifts. The French doors were thrown open to the evening air, and through them, she spied a massive, pink present. For once, she’d been grateful for her office in the community center. It allowed her to make Kayleigh’s surprise for Stefan even surprisier without being caught.

Stefan and Kayleigh entered to raucous applause. The bride stopped in the middle of the room and raised her hands. “I know you’re waiting for the buffet, but I need to give my husband his surprise before we lose the daylight.”

Delighted guests followed them outside. 

“Open it, darling.” Kayleigh urged.

 An unsure smile crossed his lips as he tugged on the ginormous bow. A kaleidoscope of butterflies swooped and shimmered in the sunset.

“Oooooh,” everyone gasped.

“Yay!” Kayleigh clapped her hands.

“Aaaargh.” Stefan’s cry kicked into a scream as three butterflies landed on his head. He batted at them as he scrambled back into the room. Everyone watched in horror as he careened into the three-tier cake, sending it crashing to the floor in a crumbly cascade. 

“Oh god.” Butterflies forgotten, he backed away from the catastrophe…and into the champagne tower. Glasses tumbled into the fondue fountain shorting the electrics and sending sparks into the crepe paper above. They caught in a merry blaze. Two seconds later, the sprinklers extinguished it and the fire alarm began wailing. Butterflies flittered here and there.

Satisfied, Sloane headed for her office.

 She had papers to grade.