Max zipped the jacket up, eagerly seeking refuge from the cold. Thankfully, the jacket itself was very dry and toasty inside and the warmth was welcoming and soothing.. He Pulled the collar up over his nose trying to warm his face and was instantly struck by the pleasant smell he found inside. He'd expected to be assaulted by body odor but the jacket actually smelled more of leather, and grass, and summer. He breathed in deeply, suddenly made calm by the garment's ataractic aroma.
Walking through the front door of his house, he stripped the jacket off and hung it up in the entryway closet. He felt a sudden impulse to put the jacket back on... It was kind of cold inside and he already missed the soothing warmth it provided, but it was late and he was keen to crawl into bed so he just hung it on his shoulders like a cape, shuddering at the slippery softness of the inner quilting. Forgoing his usual nightly routine, he peeled back the corner of his immaculately made bedding and proceeded to slide between the covers, draping the jock jacket over top of him, comforted by its substantial weight. He drew the jacket up over his face, trapping in the warmth of his breath, relaxing him quickly to sleep.
-------------------------
Heat... grass.. carefree summers...
The sun was shining down on Max's face; he felt more content than he had in a long time. He was outside lying in the grass, basking in the sunlight. He hadn't spent much time outdoors since he was a kid, and finding himself back in that setting almost made him FEEL like a kid again...
A sudden flitting shadow drew his gaze. His eyes moved swiftly, following the familiar, erratic flight path... Could it be the butterfly he'd been hoping to find to complete his collection of locally extant insect species? The humble butterfly had evolved over millions of years to tumble through the air in a seemingly haphazard manner in order to evade predators, but Max had his own evolutionary advantage over his query, the trusty butterfly net his father had given him for his birthday. Max swiped the net gracefully through the air and nearly captured the beautiful bug but tripped over an exposed root, skinning his knee and losing his shoe in the process. His eyes started to water from the pain radiating from the freshly abraded skin. Max clutched his leg and grimaced instinctively in exaggerated agony before steeling himself against the pain and choking back his tears. He fished his wayward shoe out from the tall grass and peeled back its twin velcro straps. Then he replaced the small boy's size sneaker back onto his juvenile foot wrenching the velcro straps back into their tight and secure state, crisscrossed over top of one another in accordance with his quirky sense of style. Rising from the ground he used a single finger to push his large glasses up onto the bridge of his nose and proceeded to scan his surroundings. Soon he had caught renewed sight of the butterfly, and without a second thought, he picked up his net and drew it over his head in a wide arch, gently entrapping the delicate bug within the pliant fabric folds of the net.
"Oh BOY!" He shouted with limitless excitement, beaming a gap-toothed grin, "ThiTH haTH to be a real one! An acTHual DanauTH PlecTHippuTH!"
"Daddy! Daddy!" He shouted as he bounded toward his house. "I think I caught one for real thiTH time!"
A scrawny, slightly built, bespectacled man emerged from the house and greeted the boy with a warm smile and an eager energy.
"What have you got there Maxy?" The man inquired brightly and with somewhat dorky inflections.
"It lookTH juTHt like the real thing, Dad!" Max replied with pride and glee. ".. I think it iTH... Can you identify it for me? ITH it a DanauTH PlecTHippuTH or a LimenitiTH ArchippuTH?"
"We'll need to take a really close look to be sure, Maxy. Go ahead and pull it out of the net and we'll see..." His Dad said encouragingly. "Be gentle."
Max eagerly reached inside the net and gently cupped his hands around the prized bug. He began to giggle uncontrollably as the butterfly's beating wings tickled the palms of his hands.
"Here Dad. What do you think it iTH?" He said, proudly presenting his newest catch for his father's inspection.
Max gasped in astonishment as a pair of colossal, calloused, swollen looking, meaty hands closed around his much smaller hands swallowing them up to accept the bug. Peering upward towards the hand's owner, he found himself looking at a large imposing man with a solid virile build, a thick, muscular neck, and rippling, bulging appendages that Max seemed to instinctively recognize as his own father, in spite of the man's sudden and drastic change in appearance.
"Oh, that's a butterfly, Sport!" His Dad said confidently in a deep, authoritative voice.
"Huh?" Max questioned, his face contorting in confusion. "But iTH it a real DanauTH PlecTHippuTH?"
"Is it a what?!" His dad said, starting to laugh dismissively...
"A DanauTH PlecTHippuTH, Daddy. You know, a Monarch butterfly? They look THo much like the more common Vi-TH-roy butterfly that I wanna be abTHolutely sure before I add it to my collection."
"I didn't know you collected bugs, Monster Max." His dad said with a grin, holding the bug indelicately by the wing and rotating it around to conduct a careless, uncomprehending examination of its features. "I don't know what to tell you Max... It's just a butterfly... and you know I can't have you wasting your time being all distracted like that.... You gotta focus on practice right now if you're gonna be ready for the big game against the Kingfishers! You can bet their star player isn't messing around catching pansy-ass bugs during practice... So forget about the butterfly and hit up the rebounder until you can complete 50 rebounds without dropping the ball. Understood?"
To punctuate his point, the man carelessly flicked the helpless bug away, sending it to an unceremonious end as a crumpled jumble of insect parts on the ground.
Max was crushed. He hadn't seen a true Monarch all year and this was his last chance to catch one before winter. The third generation had begun emerging from their cocoons weeks ago, and given the progressive reduction of milkweed in the area, it had been a miracle that he'd finally found one at all, let alone one so late in the season, but now it was destroyed...
"Understood, Sir." Max replied automatically, being equally as surprised by the unintended response itself as he was by the sudden and inexplicable loss of his speech impediment.
Without knowing what he was doing he found himself turning and gracefully lobbing a ball from the end of his butterfly net toward a square trampoline-like target behind him. The ball rebounded at a sharp angle and his body effortlessly strafed left to position himself to receive the ball. He extended his butterfly net to its limit and snagged the ball right off its trajectory, and then began naturally rocking the net back and forth to cradle and secure the ball under his control.
"That's my boy! Keep at it." The man said, delightedly. "I'll come check on your progress in a bit."
Losing track of his father's whereabouts Max looked himself over. He was wearing a white nylon t-shirt emblazoned with large lime green lettering that said "HORNETS" and a giant number "18". He was simultaneously put off by the fact that "lime green" was a color more befitting a team named for the 'cuckoo wasp' than for any kind of hornet, but also deeply proud of his position as attacker for his team. He had a deep loyalty and zeal for the Hornets' Peewee Lacrosse team that he couldn't recall ever experiencing before. Inspecting himself further he found he was wearing black shorts and black socks that nearly reached to his knees. His feet were shelled within stiff looking white cleats with lime green shoelaces. His hands were gripping the shaft of his butterfly net but the shaft had thickened considerably and become heavier and more substantial overall. The net itself had shrunken and formed into a sort of scoop or spoon shape, and the netting was loosely woven with thick string mesh... It wasn't a butterfly net anymore, it was a Crosse. He was kitted out in a Lacrosse boy's uniform!
Max returned his gaze to the crumpled butterfly carcass withering on the ground, twitching in the gentle breeze. He was desperate to pick it up and assess it's condition, maybe it was still salvageable for his collection, but his father had ordered him not to be distracted during practice, and practice was most of all Max was ever allowed to do; Lacrosse, Hockey, skiing, tennis, cycling, archery, his dad kept him physically active all season, every season... But he couldn't let his dad down!... If he wasn't a perfect little athletic golden boy, his dad might leave him and his mom forever... He knew it at his core, and it terrified him...
With deep seated anger welling up inside him, he charged toward the site of the fallen Monarch and savagely drove it into the ground with the spikes of his cleat, continuing to grind and stomp the worthless insect deeper and more completely into the dirt beneath his foot until he was finally satisfied he had completely annihilated the potential threat to his happiness. He didn't care about stupid, girly bugs. He was his Dad's little champ!...
Still harboring resentment, fear, and anger, Max launched the ball from his Crosse with all his strength toward the rebounder. It shot back with fantastic speed but he had anticipated its angle of deflection and was already well positioned to receive it. He continued, angrily striking the rebounder again and again as tears began to flow from his eyes. He just wanted his dad to be proud of him and to never ever go away...
As time passed he began to grow calmer, and found himself falling into a more controlled effortless rhythm. He really was good at controlling the ball, almost always putting it right where he wanted it to be, and always recovering gracefully from his rare mistakes... Suddenly he noticed there were other boys on the field behind him playing football.... One of the boys with a number 28 on his jersey was approaching Max with a radiant smile.
The sight of the boy was making Max feel something he'd never felt before, like the tickle of butterflies inside him. The boy was adorable in his little Peewee pads and his face was smooth and angelic.
"Hi" The little boy said smiling warmly. "What is that stick game you're playing?"
"Oh, it's Lacrosse..." Max said, caught off guard "I mean, this is just a practice setup, the real game is for a whole team on a big field with goals like hockey... It's really popular back in Canada, but I can't find a team to play for here."
"You're a Canadian?"
"Uhuh, my family moved here not long ago so I haven't made a lot of friends yet." Max said reluctantly "You guys like Football?"
"Only more than life itself!" The boy replied enthusiastically. "Why don't you join us, you don't gotta be lonely over here by yourself."
"Sure!" Max said, melting inside at the thought of becoming teammates with this scampy little boy. "But I gotta ask my Dad first."
Max looked around trying to find his father, but realized slowly that he hadn't seen him in a while... too long. He'd lost track of him... He didn't know where he went or how to find him... Alarm and panic began to grip him as he started calling out for his father in growing desperation.
"Dad?! Dad?!" Max screamed; the world beginning to spin around him. "Where are you?! DAD!?"
Max collapsed on the ground in tears, pulling himself into a tight ball. He started rocking back and forth trying to console himself.
"Are you OK?" The cute number 28 boy asked Max, crouching over him and rubbing his back soothingly.
"I'm sorry." Max said sniffling and sucking back the tears. "I don't know why I mentioned my Dad. He left me and my Mom... That's why we
moved to America... I... I don't have a Dad anymore."
At those words, Max's tears started flowing in a constant stream from his eyes. Number 28 reached down and hugged Max comfortingly and Max gratefully nestled himself deeply into the boy's open embrace. He curled his head gently against the boy's chest feeling safe and secure enough to allow his emotional vulnerability to be on full display. He wept openly and unabashedly for as long as he felt he needed to, and finally felt slightly relieved of the depression and turmoil he had been secretly carrying for so long.
"I'm sorry." Max said finally looking up at the boy who was holding him so gently. "I didn't mean to lose it like that... I guess I have a lot of stuff going on right now..."
"Don't apologize." The boy responded warmly "It's alright. I'm here for you."
"You're so nice." Max said, gazing into the boys eyes and feeling a sudden wave of deep gratitude.
"You're really cute." The boy whispered lovingly, feeling compelled to put himself in a similarly vulnerable position by admitting his feelings for Max.
The boy braced himself for a negative reaction that didn't come. Instead his admission was met with a relieved and sincere smile and a liberating release of joyous energy as Max returned his head to the boy's padded chest and whispered back. "I think you're cute too..."