“That’s the last thingtheywant.” Of course, as I say it, a monarch butterfly lands on my sleeve.
Rooney gasps, watching the butterfly on my arm stay perfectly still. It lingers for a few seconds before fluttering away.
I drop my arm. “That wasn’t so bad, right?”
“It felt like there was a real connection there,” she says. “Good thing butterflies aren’t the size of birds.”
I laugh at the absurdity of this image. “And they run cold, too, like you. They need warmth to fly. You’re my—a butterfly. You’reabutterfly. Out in the wild. Because you belong to no one,” I say, tripping over my words. What I say next flies out of my mouth on its own unpredictable flight path. “Maybe you can knit them little sweaters.” I close my eyes in horror.
“Don’t be ridiculous, Jack,” Rooney says with a smirk. “Little scarves, maybe.” She takes a half-step closer. “What else about them?”
I cross my arms in thought. “Legend has it that when monarch butterflies migrate south early, they’re letting us know it’s going to be a rough winter.”
“Do you believe that legend?” she asks, looking surprised.
I snort. “No. I also don’t believe that Punxsutawney Phil can predict the start of spring.”
Rooney smiles. “Figures.”
“When I was younger, my mom taught me that butterflies represent long life in Chinese culture,” I share. Warmth fills my cheeks. “And love.”
Rooney glances from the ground up to my eyes. “So that means we’re surrounded by love right now.”
“It would appear so,” I say, blinking slowly.
Rooney holds her fingers to her neck. “Okay, I feel better,” she says, breathing out.
We take slow steps in sync down the concrete pathway. Butterflies with stained-glass wings perch on flowers and leaves.
I lean closer to observe a butterfly’s white spot patterns. “They don’t have long life spans. They experimented with this one in space.”
Rooney follows my gaze to the butterfly. “That exact one?”
I hold back a laugh. “Yes! Isn’t that wild?” Rooney smiles as I go on. “They brought larva up to the International Space Station,” I explain. “They live about two weeks on Earth, but one week in orbit. They were studying their ability to grow in microgravity.”
“Wow. They start out so unassuming,” she says. “Minus the whole life span thing, you’re kind of like a butterfly. I think your colleagues see you in your chrysalis.” Rooney faces me and smiles. “I see you as a free-floating butterfly. You’ve got a gorgeous pair of wings on you.”
I’m not convinced of that. Only with Rooney do I feel like there’s been a crack in the shell. But mostly because she’s the one breaking it open. She reaches in and forces me out. Ever since New York, she’s been doing that. Even so, I’d hardly call it a metamorphosis.
“I think it’s because of you,” I accidentally say out loud.
“Me?”
“I mean us working together. Being your liaison.”
She smiles, and I connect the imaginary dots on her cheek constellation. The habit is officially back.
We pass various species of flowers. It’s a completely different world in here. It’s almost like being in the clean room. Both require heightened spatial awareness and remaining calm. But here anything goes. There are hardly any rules despite this being a home to living insects and bugs. Spending time with Rooney is still surreal, but there’s nowhere else I’d want to be.
“Think any other species snuck in?” she asks. “If you see one that’s black and white and slightly translucent, it’s theIdea leuconoe, or the rice paper butterfly,” Rooney says, reading off the butterfly identification board mounted into the ground. “Pretty.”
“I don’t know if the ones in here are, but in the wild, those are supposed to be poisonous,” I say. “So maybe avoid touching them.”
Rooney makes a face. “It’s like we’re back in the clean room. Look, but don’t touch,” she says, reading my mind.
“Exactly! But worse because you in a bunny suit is quite the sight,” I tease.
“Like in a Miss Bunny ooh-la-la way or Bette Midler as a singing telegram bunny kind of way? Because honestly, I’m good with both,” she says, fluttering her lashes and striking a pose with her hands bent in front of her. Though she’s much calmer than before, she still stays close.
