In the most simplistic of terms, the Butterfly Effect can be described as small causes having a larger effect. Though she knew, logically, that could not be what happened, she could not help the feeling that it all came back to her. No matter how much she argued, she could only blame herself.
Her mother knocked on the door of her bedroom, waking her to August 11th, at 11 in the morning, two weeks before she started her first semester of college. “Get up and go walk the dog.” Her mother said, door swinging open as she rolled over to look. “Your father just lost his job.” Out of bed, she stumbled around her room, searching for her glasses. Pushing the dirty frames onto her face she could only stare. Hoping for a cruel joke, her mother pushed on, “I’m not joking. Go downstairs, the dog is waiting.” Disbelieving, she walked downstairs. Grabbing the old leather leash and blindly feeling the bright red collar for a loop to hook the chain with, she waited for her mother to take back the words she had woken up to.
Opening the door to the warm August air, dog limping down the wooden garage steps, she hoped, against all hope, that her mother would come and tell her a lie.
Her mother never came. The dog pulled her towards the street, familiar with the usual route they would take, as she fell completely and utterly numb.
Her family first encountered this situation when she entered 8th grade. The threat of her father being jobless, and their family homeless, by New Year's looming over the house made a great start to her last year of Junior high. Nothing like an overwhelming sense of despair to encourage a child to perform well in school. However, at the 11th hour a colleague of his offered him a position in a different branch of the company. It didn’t happen in 8th grade, but that threat never truly left. Always lurking. A monster waiting to strike when it would hurt her family most.
Days later, her mother cornered her in the kitchen, a talent many parents seem to acquire, and asked her a question. “Are you okay with moving?”
“Yeah, I’m fine with it mom. You always talk about how you’ve wanted to move for awhile. We’re just moving now instead of later. I’ve made my peace with it.” She found it easy to lie to her mother. In truth, she had no idea how she felt. Guilty, most certainly. She blamed herself for her father being laid off, but moving? She didn’t know. She only knew that she would act to spare her mother's feelings.
Days began to blur together as the start of the school year grew closer. Counting down the days she had left in her home, wondering if she would ever see it again once she left, she found herself spending hours sitting- no, merely existing- in the family room, looking around, and memorizing all the details she could. In the days leading up to her departure she began to argue with herself, trying to find the ‘why’ behind her father being fired. She still blamed herself.
August 10th she had decided to try and stay up for 24 hours. It was a yearly thing she attempted every summer. A right of passage of sorts. The final solution to a royally screwed up sleeping schedule. She always failed. Falling asleep in the early morning, when the sun began peeking over the horizon and falling through the window into her room.
As usual, the early morning of August 11th she fell asleep only to be awoken by her mother, and the news of her father being let go. Immediately, she saw the impossible correlation between her failure to stay up and her father’s job. Once the connection was made, it was unbreakable. In the days leading up to her departure she began arguing with herself, trying to find a different reason, the real reason, for why the company let her father go. The logical part of herself knew, with all certainty, that her falling asleep the morning of August 11th had no connection to him being fired. After all, he had worked there for almost 20 years.
But he had worked there for 20 years. He had done the impossible for this company. Fixing every stupid mistake made by the people underneath his supervision. He never truly went on a vacation, never able to relax, with his family because his work called even on his days off. He had been a loyal, devoted employee until the end, so it didn’t make sense that he had done something to be fired. It all led back to her, and it all led back to that night. Her failure to stay up the same day the company let him go.
She realized that even with all the facts presented to her, with sound reasoning and basic logic, that she could not convince the smallest part of herself, the part that truly believed in being the guilty one, that she was blameless. That small part of herself being the true issue in the argument.
Her mother spoke to her again the day before her family would drop her off at college, cornering her, once again, in the kitchen. “I don’t want you to worry about us here.” She said, all motherly kindness and wisdom.
“What do you mean?”
“I mean, that it will start to get ugly here at home. You won’t have to face any of that ugliness, you won’t have to see how bad it is going to get. And I am so happy that you won’t have to. You’re going to college. You’re starting your life, figuring out who you are. On Wednesday, when we drop you off, I want you to have the best four years of your life. I want you to go and forget about us. Don’t ever look back. Don’t ever worry. We’ll manage.”
On Tuesday they left, driving up the day before move-in. All the while, Kaitlyn argued with herself over her father’s job, and she thought over what her mother had told her, and she stewed over her feelings on moving.
On Wednesday they moved her in. They drove around Des Moines to get last minute supplies. Stocking her up on Cheeze-its, water, and a plastic bin of Twizzlers. They went to one last dinner before dropping her off. All the while Kaitlyn choked back tears, and told herself to feel excited. But, as she looked at her parents in front of her, she found herself missing them before they had even left.
At 5 o’clock on Wednesday, they returned to campus and dropped her off a short walk from her dorm. At 5 o’clock it had begun to rain. At 5 o’clock she hugged her parents and said her goodbyes.
In that moment, under the shower of the warm rain, she felt a strange calm fall over herself. All too soon, she pulled away from them for the walk back to the dorm she would now call home. Unable to watch the car drive away, feelings falling into place, and the rain warm and comforting on her skin, she stopped in the middle of the sidewalk.
In that hug, a switch had been flipped. She had come to an understanding. She could not go on blaming herself for her father’s job when it had nothing to do with her. Left with none to blame, and an overwhelming sadness within her chest, she thought of her mother’s question.
“Are you okay with moving?” She had an honest answer. For the first time in two weeks, she allowed herself to cry. Bitter, angry tears.
“No. I’m not okay.”
The rain began to feel cold on her skin.