The Butterfly Manifesto

I stepped up to the microphone on the podium, brushing away a stray strand of hair and reminding myself to breathe.

“Principal Olsen, esteemed members of the faculty, cherished parents, and finally, my colleagues, the graduating Class of 1999.

“We are standing at a beginning, and yet, the counterintuitiveness of the future is that we can only see it by looking back. Now, if you’ve been in a physics class, you’ve probably heard of the Butterfly Effect, which, simply put, is the concept that a gentle, seemingly inconsequential movement in one place can set off a massive, sweeping storm thousands of miles away. Many people see this as chaos, but I disagree. I see it as the single most powerful description of our personal influence.

“We are here today, not because we successfully followed a grand, predetermined course, but because the design of our lives has been unfolding behind us all along. It is this fundamental principle that governs our journey: the future is not the result of a few sweeping, visible actions. It is defined by a series of minute, tenacious choices repeated in absolute isolation. That a small adjustment of your course or change in perspective is what sets off the chain reaction.

“So, let us look forward, new graduates! Let us embrace that hidden force. Let us commit to that consistent, quiet effort. That series of small, persistent decisions can construct a future so magnificent, so entirely changed, that when you finally look back, your starting point is utterly unrecognizable.”

For a moment, as I looked out at the sea of caps and gowns arrayed on the football field, one of Matthew’s memories flashed in my head. It was the exact same day and the same location, but a universe apart. I remembered him sitting in that same audience, looking up at the stage and listening to whoever it was that gave the valedictorian speech at his ceremony. For a split second, the sound faded and I had double vision. I saw the field not from the stage, but from the crowd, through Matthew's eyes. I gripped the podium and pushed the discord aside.

“Congratulations to the Class of 1999. We did it!”

The graduates below the stage I stood on clapped respectfully, as did our friends and family members on the bleachers to my left. As I shook hands with the faculty and Principal Olsen, I sat back down on my chair next to the student body president who gave a speech of her own right before mine. I began fiddling with my gold honors stole and my medallion as the faculty rose to speak.

Not for the first time did I reflect on how different my high school career had been as Maya. Whereas a student like Matthew was bored by the procession, my role was so prominent that I was invested for the entire ceremony. I was actually giddy as I posed for pictures with various friends, and gave out so many hugs I thought my arms would fall off. While I was excited to finally be done with high school and move on to adulthood, I admit that I would think back on it fondly, unlike Matthew had.

While most students spaced out their graduation parties over the course of June, mine was scheduled for the next day. Thorne contacted my parents weeks ago, and as a gift Northern Trust had reserved a garden pavilion space at the local regional park. It was a lush and green space connected to a small ballroom, which Mom and Dad sprang for full catering and a live band. Matthew had his low-key graduation party at our house, and not only was my party a significant upgrade, it turned out that my guest list was much larger.

My extended family was there of course, even Grandma Lola who rarely left Wisconsin was in attendance. My family in this timeline was full of new rifts, and subtly wasn’t the family Matthew had. There were cousins attending who simply didn’t exist in Matthew’s world; children born due to the delicate discrepancy of my existence, or notable gaps like Jane who simply weren’t. No one could possibly know except for me, of course. It was chilling to think about unintended effects that my presence in this timeline had.

Beyond my family, practically anyone I knew was there. Almost everyone from the Varsity cheer squad was there as well as their boyfriends who were primarily athletes and friendly with me. A few of the student council students were there, as well as Barry and Carl from Tempest making an appearance and leaving the grunge look at home. Of course my girl squad of Carla, Danielle, and Catherine were in attendance, as well as Jake who was as sociable as ever.

Principal Olsen made an appearance, likely because it was prudent to appear at the valedictorian’s grad party. A few of my teachers, including the Computer Club advisor Mr. Erikson and my counselor Mrs. Donovan did as well. My cheer coaches were there, along with several faces I wasn’t expecting. Mr. Henderson made a visit, clearly far less stressed now that my account (and liability) was out of his hands, as did my honorary Aunt Marie from my catalog modeling days.

I bounced around the party all afternoon, mingling with everyone as well as being introduced to a bunch of Mom and Dad’s friends whether I wanted to or not. I never really appreciated being in the spotlight, but I was cordial even as the day became tiring. I was chatting with Danielle and Catherine, when Mom tapped me on the shoulder from behind.

“Maya, there’s another person who stopped by that you should say hello to.”

With a sigh, I dutifully turned to acknowledge yet another adult I barely knew, and my breath caught in my throat.

It was Dr. Walters, my former therapist.

“Maya, it’s been so long,” she said as she firmly took my hand into hers. “It's wonderful to see what a successful young woman you’ve become.”

Unbidden, buried memories of our sessions together bubbled in my head. Of her gently prodding me into approved behaviors, while systematically deleting who I was. Of her meticulously monitoring my wardrobe and never once showing interest in how I actually felt. And me, having to paint a smile on my face every time we met and act like a good little girl.

She was smaller than I remembered, but I swear I could hear Matthew screaming somewhere deep inside my head.

“Thank you, Dr. Walters,” I said robotically. “Would you excuse me for a moment?”

There was an awkward moment between Mom, Dr. Walters, and me as I broke away from the conversation. Scanning the room, I spotted Jake amicably horsing around with some of his football buddies. Gently taking his arm, I pulled him away from the main garden area and inside the building where the caterers were streaming out of. I dragged him into one of the side storerooms.

“What are you doing, Maya?” Jake asked as I shut the door behind us.

I quickly latched on to him, kissing him hard and pushing him against a stack of chairs. “I just need a moment away from everyone,” I breathed into his mouth.

I was absolutely hooked on sex. It felt so much better as a woman; all I had to do was think about giving myself to Jake and it made my mind blank and my body ache with pleasure. We had only had a couple of encounters since prom, and Jake was always quick to leave once we were done. I suppose that’s how it was for women, with men finishing and leaving so suddenly, but in the moment it was sheer bliss. I needed to lose myself just like that.

“Maya, mmfph,” uttered Jake as I gripped his back, “we shouldn’t do this; what if someone heard us—”

“They won’t,” I whispered as I began aggressively untucking his shirt. “We’ll be quick; just let me go down on you before we go back. I need this.”

I started lowering myself down and unbuckling his belt, but Jake was resisting. “Maya, no. We can’t do this right here!”

“But I just want to—”

Jake broke away, retucking his shirt and fixing his belt. “We can’t. I mean we shouldn’t. I…I…I’ll go back to the party first. I’ll see you out there.”

He quickly exited the room, and I was left confused and halfway to my knees. I stood up and straightened my white dress, ducking into a nearby bathroom to touch up my slightly smeared lipstick and to fix my hair. I was still hot and bothered, but I managed to calm down before taking one last appraisal of my appearance and rejoining the party. I saw Jake back with his teammates on the other side of the pavilion, but he didn’t look in my direction as Dad whisked me away to make more rounds.

I pointedly avoided Dr. Walters, and fortunately she didn’t linger. She probably just wanted confirmation that one of her most unique cases turned out so successfully, due to her brilliant therapy. It cast a cloud on the rest of my party, even hours after she left. The last thing I wanted to be reminded about were the circumstances of becoming Maya.

Or that, more chillingly, her manipulation somehow contributed to the girl I eventually became.

***

The following Monday marked the beginning of summer, and it was a great relief to not have academic commitments. In fact, my schedule was completely cleared, which meant I could finally focus on setting up Butterfly Capital. They had installed a private phone line in my bedroom weeks ago, and coupled with a top-of-the-line Power Macintosh G3 that Apple gifted to its more prominent investors, I was able to conduct all of my business from the privacy of my room.

The first batch of domain sales were initiating soon, and though the broker was taking care of the bulk of the work, I still had to be on hand for updates and to authorize details. I also had to manage my positions, as well as oversee the bond purchases and transfers into money market accounts. There was some pushback from my new broker about holding onto cash equivalents when the market was thriving, but I was firm. In addition to all this, I was overseeing new hires for my LLC such as Linda, my new executive assistant who came highly recommended by Thorne. Her first task was to find a suitable residence in Chicago as well as furnishing it.

I wasn’t the only one who was spending their senior summer working. Most of my friends had summer jobs, though the running joke was that I seemed to have endless time since I wasn’t working retail or food service. To everyone else it seemed like I didn’t have a job at all. Jake was working in an upscale restaurant in the evenings, and it was tricky to find time alone with him. We were constantly attending parties or bonfires with our circle of friends, but we were rarely truly alone.

When we were able to get together, it seemed like he enjoyed himself in the moment but afterwards he always seemed distant. I tried new things or pushed harder, desperate to elicit a different reaction in bed, but every time we had sex I couldn’t get a hold of him for days afterwards. By mid-July it felt as if he was avoiding me full stop. He was always busy at work or out with his friends, and I started to spiral a bit, wondering if I was doing something wrong. I was still figuring out how sex as a girl worked, and I was self-conscious about my performance.

Catherine was having a summer fling with Sam, and I was quietly jealous that the two of them seemed to be having a good time. I didn’t know what was happening with Jake, and I constantly felt like a failure with him since I was clearly making some mistake when I was having sex with him. I just wanted to lose myself like I had on prom night.

It came to a head in August, when we were at a mutual friend’s pool party. We arrived together, and he was his usual cheerful self with everyone. He had his arm around me and everything, and it was as if nothing had happened between us despite him not seeing me for almost two weeks. I was more confused than ever, but relief washed over me as we sat together in our swimsuits and enjoyed the afternoon. When evening came I cornered him and asked if he could give me a ride home, and he agreed.

“Jake,” I asked tentatively from the passenger seat, “is everything alright? You’ve been avoiding me for weeks.”

“Well, I’ve been busy at the restaurant, you know…”

“Jake,” I said, placing a hand on his leg. “Can we park somewhere and talk?”

Jake’s eyes darted across the windshield. “Sure, Maya,” he said eventually, and we pulled into an empty parking lot. He turned to me, trying unsuccessfully to seem nonplussed. “Okay, what do you want to talk about?”

“Did I do something wrong? We’ve barely spoken this summer. It feels like ever since prom you’ve been staying away from me, like you don’t even want to touch me.”

Jake gave a pained expression, his knuckles white on the steering wheel. “It’s nothing, Maya. I’m just busy.”

“I know that I’m doing something wrong,” I babbled, the insecurity bubbling over. “Maybe I’m just not good at sex yet. It feels so good for me, but maybe I’m too intense, or I’m not focused on you enough.”

“Maya, stop…”

“I can be better,” I insisted, turning in my seat to face him. “I want to make it work. Just tell me what you like.”

Jake sighed, staring out the window. “I said it’s nothing. You aren't doing anything wrong.”

“Then let’s do it, right now,” I begged him, as I tried to climb over to his lap.

“Maya…no!” he shouted, pushing me roughly backwards. My head bumped into the passenger window.

I shrank back, the tears instantly welling up. “I’m sorry! I thought…I’m sorry.” I reached out to touch his arm, but he flinched and pushed my hand away, jamming the keys into the ignition.

Jake said nothing as he pulled the car out and drove to my house. I started sobbing into my hands, apologizing over and over, but Jake merely frowned and stared at the road. Eventually he turned onto my street and pulled into my driveway. I was a stuttering mess as we sat in front of my house, and while I cried Jake sat unwilling to let me leave the car in this state. It was some time before I was able to speak.

“I’m sorry, Jake. Please don’t be mad at me. I just want it to go back to the way it was. You’re one of my best friends.”

Jake sighed, staring at his steering wheel. “You’re one of my best friends too, Maya. But let’s be honest, what’s going to happen in September? Y-you’re heading off to Chicago, and I’m going north to Duluth. We’ve been…together forever, but we won’t be able to keep this up.”

“Jake,” I said, my wheels turning in my head, “what if I could bring you with me to Chicago. I’ve got money; I can pay for everything. You could go to school in Chicago and you could live with me.”

“Maya,” Jake sighed, “you couldn’t pay for everything.”

My voice was steel. “Yes, I could.”

“Even if you could, it wouldn’t be right. I…I would just get in your way.”

“But if we wanted each other…”

“I’m sorry. I know you want me, but I don’t know what I want. But it’s…not from you.” He stared long at the steering wheel.

I felt tears welling up again. “Jake,” I croaked.

Jake was unwilling to say more. My heart lurched, and then I felt numb. Blinded by tears, I bit my lip and closed the door behind me. I took a few steps towards my front door, and I turned. Jake’s headlights flashed on, and he backed into the street and out of my life. I stood in my driveway wearing my silly sarong over my swimsuit and feeling utterly pathetic. For all of my wealth, all of my success, or even all of my intricate plans, I couldn’t even make myself wanted by a boy.

As tears welled up anew, for one of the few times in my second life I had no idea how to move forward.