Diego Butterfly

    This story I'm about to tell you happened to my friend Jake a couple summers ago. He doesn't talk about it much, but one night we were boozing down in Tijuana swapping old stories and he'd had a few tequila shots and told me what I'm about to tell you. Of course, I had to swear that I'd never pass it on. So, don't tell anyone I told you.

    Jake had just completed his sophomore year at San Diego State. He had been living at the dorms all of college so far except for the last summer when he went back home and stayed with his parents. Omaha summers are pretty lame so he decided to look for an apartment this summer instead of going back again. He found a small apartment in La Jolla, just a half mile from the ocean. He was stoked about getting a chance to hang out down in SoCal without classes taking up his time.

    His buddy Louis was supposed to come down and hang out, but backed out at the last minute. After talking to the landlord and finding that he couldn't get his deposit back on the apartment, Jake decided to just hang out by himself and find a job to stay busy. While Jake sat on the balcony of his new apartment, watching the sunset in the tiny corner of the sky he could see, he thought about how all his SDSU friends had left for the summer and once again mentally criticized Louis for being such a dick and ditching him.

    A couple weeks passed and Jake found himself working down on the beach renting surfboards out to the tourists. It was a decent job. He barely made over minimum wage but he got to hang out on the beach all day. He was only working forty hours a week and so had a lot of time left over. But he wasn't spending nearly as much time surfing as he'd planned--having to be around the beach eight hours a day made it a lot less alluring.

    Right after getting his new job, Jake got a membership at the Planet Fitness up on Bishops Lane so he wouldn't have drive back to campus all the time to use the gym there. He was assigned a personal trainer named Mordecai, a semi-pro body builder with amazingly little body fat. Jake instantly noticed Mordecai's muscular body. He was wearing a tight, cream muscle shirt that flaunted his massive pecs and perfectly defined abs. Treestump-like legs came out from shorts that reminded Jake of the old ABA games he used to watch on ESPN Classic. But the ABA players' legs were nothing compared to these. To Jake, Mordecai seemed almost superhuman in appearance.

    "So, to most optimize your building of the muscle, I need to know your background in the lifting and your goals for your body," Mordecai explained to Jake.

    "Well, I started lifting in high school when I was on the football team. I played middle linebacker. Now, I am just trying to buff up a bit. I've gotten a little flab and want to ditch it."

    "What do you weigh?"

    "195, I think."

    "You look about six feet, no?"

    "Five-eleven."

    "You have the hourglass body type. That is good for the lifting. You have strong bones too. You maybe should think to do more than just lose the flab. You could support good muscles."

    "You mean, I could look like you?" He had not up until this point been able to even vaguely associate himself to a body so perfectly crafted. "I mean, how much work would that take?"

    Mordecai smiled. "It is no cake. I need commitment from you to give one-hundred-ten percent everyday. Do you have a job?"

    "Yeah. Down on the beach."

    "When?"

    "Ten to six, usually."

    "Good. You can do morning and afternoon workouts, no?"

    "Yeah, I suppose so." Jake decided then that his goal for the summer would be to get ripped. He spent the next hour following Mordecai around the gym and listening to him explaining all the exercises and the order in which they had to be done. Cardio and abdominals every morning. Shoulders, traps, and calves on Monday and Friday afternoons, front and back legs on Tuesdays and Saturdays, back and biceps on Wednesdays, and hamstrings and chest on Thursday. Jake would have appointments on Sundays to find out his lifting schedule for the next week and to cover any problem points.

    Mordecai did not expect Jake to succeed, but instead thought of him as a way to fill some time and make some money with the Sunday afternoon sessions. Mordecai underestimated Jake.

    Of course, it was not all Jake's motivation that kept him working out four hours a day, six days a week. The overwhelming boredom that had engulfed him played a key role. Since Louis hadn't shown up, Jake was virtually living in solitary confinement outside of the meaningless interactions he had at work. He wanted to meet people, but didn't really know where and lacked the motivation to find out. It seemed that everyone he met was just a tourist passing through.

    May, June, and most of July passed for Jake not quickly, but not slowly either. He continued his regiment of cardio in the mornings, work during the day, and evening gym workouts. The time at the beach had bronzed his skin. He noticed on occasion that he had become significantly darker than many of the locals and nearly all of the tourists. But, his other than his color, he was not happy with the improvement of his body. He now weighed 200 and although he had lost some of his fat and was bulking up, he was impatient with the slow results. Mordecai laughed when Jake mentioned this one Sunday. "I began lifting when I was twelve year old boy. This doesn't happen in one day, you know."

    Jake finished the session somewhat disappointed, but determined to push through. Afterwards, he went back to his apartment, opened the sliding door to the balcony to let some air in, and noticed the answering machine blinking. He pressed play and started walking into the kitchen to fix up a Creatine shake.

    "Hi, Jake. This is your mother. I have some bad news. Give me a call..." the tape trailed off with her sobbing. Jake finished preparing the shake, assuming that his mother was overreacting as she often did, then after finishing the shake, dialed her number. She was not overreacting. Jake learned that his father had died of an unexpected heart attack and had skipped paying his life insurance premium the last two months for unknown reasons, voiding their receipt of any money. The family savings would have to be used for a funeral and Jake would not be able to re-enroll at the university in the fall. He would have to wait a year for the new lower family income to show up on his FAFSA.

    After putting down the phone, Jake was in a daze. He didn't know how to react to the news he had just received. He walked into the bathroom and stared at the mirror. He tried to cry, but couldn't. The tears weren't there. He stared blankly ahead and began to hate what he saw. "God, I can't even control my own body," he thought, still discouraged by his lack of definition.

    He wanted to return to the gym and lift, but it was his rest day and he couldn't lift. He couldn't think of what else to do, so Jake decided to return to the gym and just find an open treadmill. He ran. His dad was in his thoughts. The little league games, driving lessons, that time his dad got really mad because Jake had freed a mouse from a trap in the pantry--they were all in his head, and in his vision too. It was so good being around his dad again. Jake didn't think about the fact that his dad was dead. He was just there looking up to the man that could never make a mistake. Jake had left and was, for a few moments, truly happy again. It was the first time in months that he wasn't thinking of everything that had gone wrong in his life.

    A tap on the should brought Jake back into the gym. He paused the treadmill, looked down to see in surprise that he had run over eight miles, and turned around to see Mordecai. "Today is your rest day, no? You are not resting."

    "I needed to run."

    "Your body needs a break. Let it recover."

    "Okay. I just... never mind." Mordecai turned and began to walk away. Should he ask? Jake turned around and called to him, "Mordecai, wait. I need to talk to you."

    "What?"

    Jake quickly toweled off the treadmill and walked to where Mordecai was standing. So many things were running through his head. He couldn't stop thinking about his father and how much he hated his body. He hesitated, then in a quiet voice, almost a whisper, asked, "You know where I could get some roids?"

    Over the next few months, Jake did not shed any tears for his father. But he did lose gallons of sweat in his memory. Jake's workouts intensified and he supplemented them with the use of anabolic steroids. The changes were rapid as far as muscle building goes, but slow enough that Jake did not see them. He stared at the mirror every morning and night, but only had a vague notion that he was getting bigger.

    Jake's full metamorphosis into his new body took place during the second week of November. It was Friday, Jake was at work thinking about his upcoming shoulder, calf, and traps workout. A beautiful Puerto Rican walked up to Jake's stand and said she wanted a long board. Jake gave her an eight footer, made sure the leash was attached properly, asked her if she knew how to surf, had her sign the papers, and then turned around to file them in his daily manila folder. Until he saw her again a few hours later, he didn't think of her at all. There were tons of gorgeous women around. It was La Jolla Beach, after all.

    When the girl returned her board later on in the afternoon, she was perplexed by the cold manner in which Jake treated her. She knew she was attractive and he didn't look gay. She decided to figure it out.

    "So are you from around here?"

    "No, Omaha." It was typical small chat and Jake still wasn't paying much attention.

    "You going to school out here?"

    "I was."

    Icy. The puertorriqueña was not used to being ignored. She didn't like it either. But, at the same time, this quiet guy with his flowing muscles and sun-darkened skin was so alluring. "I'm going out to Onyx tonight with some of my friends. Want to come?"

    Jake looked up from the paper he was re-filing and for the first time truly looked at the girl standing in front of him. She was slim but not skinny, with long black hair and smooth skin the color of mocha. She smiled as Jake looked at her, showing of perfectly aligned white teeth that contrasted the color of her skin.

    It had been a while since Jake had been anywhere other than his apartment, gym and the beach. His daily routine had not only engulfed his life, it had become his life. The thought of changing it was a little frightening, but enticing at the same time. "Sure, I'll go. That's over in the Gaslamp District, right?"

    She nodded. "I think we'll head out about eleven. You want my number?"

    "Sure."

    Maria gave Jake her phone number and name and told him that she was looking forward to the night. Jake smiled and said that he was looking forward to it also, then returned to his paper and manila folder.

    "You never told me your name."

    "Jake."

    "See you tonight, Jake." She smiled, then turned and walked down the beach.

    The rest of Jake's shift was rather uneventful as usual. After it, he went to the gym, did his afternoon workout with what seemed to him uncommon energy and returned to his apartment. There was a message on the machine. It was from Louis. Jake didn't return it. Instead, he went into the bathroom, took off his shirt and stared into the mirror and studied the chest that Maria had seen earlier that afternoon. Most of the fat was gone, the added running Jake had been doing lately helped with that. His upper body was still not as big as he wanted, but it was definitely picking up more definition, he thought.

    He got out his razor and shaved, showered quickly, and threw on some sweats. He ironed a pair of trousers and a shirt for the evening, then tried them on in front of the mirror. The pants were nearly skin tight and he could not come close to buttoning his shirt. He chuckled to himself, and, to no one in particular, said "Well I guess I'm going to the mall."

    After returning home, Jake finished getting ready and waited until 11:05 to call Maria. He didn't want to seem too anxious by calling early. He would have offered to pick her up, but he was embarrassed about his crappy car, a green 1998 Toyota Camry, so he told her that he didn't have one and suggested that they just meet at the club. She laughed and so he tried to explain that he really had no need for a car. Even though he could get one, he really didn't see any need to. She told him that she'd met him out front of the club.

    When Jake arrived in front of Onyx and saw Maria he was stunned. She had on a pair of dark blue Brazilian jeans that hugged her thighs and ass, a sexy Gucci top, and black stilettos. The fact that that girl was waiting for him almost gave him goose bumps. Her friends were not with her, but she gave no explanation and he did not ask.

    Jake paid the cover, bought two tequila shots, and then led Maria onto the main dance floor after they finished their drinks. Progressive trance pumped from the stereos. The DJ was trying to build up the energy of the newly arrived crowd by playing some mainstream tracks. Then as the crowd got larger and more lively, he began to play better music that fewer people had heard before. The dancing crowd reached a fever, completely in sync with the rhythms. Fog machines went off, cooling for a moment the air boiling with both heat and passion. Jake was lost in a trance, surrounded by the beats, dancing with a beautiful girl who wanted him.

    After a few hours of dancing and a few more tequilas, Jake headed to the bathroom to take a leak. While he was waiting in line, he stared into the mirror, looking at himself. He tried to remember what he used to look like, but couldn't. He couldn't remember not resembling Mordecai. As he kept looking, it seemed as though someone else was looking back at him. Who was this man looking back at Jake in the mirror?

    Jake's mental journey was interrupted by the bathroom attendant who told him to either hurry up and use the pisser or lose his spot in line.

    As Jake left the bathroom and saw Maria approaching, his thoughts did not return to the unknown man in the mirror but instead rushed back to the fact that he was here with such a beautiful woman.

    It was around six o'clock in the morning when Maria followed Jake into his La Jolla apartment. It was still dark as they kissed on the couch. Maria sensed that she'd have to make the next move with the shy man she had met at the beach that afternoon. She began to undress him. He let her take off his shirt, then helped to take of his shoes and pants. She ran her fingers over his abs and up onto his cleanly shaven chest. Maria let Jake undress her which he did slowly and deliberately. They kissed while Maria led them into the open bedroom. Maria grabbed Jake's hand and pulled him towards the bed. As she laid back, he could feel her eyes scouring his body, taking in the muscle, the skin, the proportions. He couldn't help worrying that the steroids had affected his manhood. He looked down and decided that it would be sufficient. Maria noticed the glance and laughed softly, pulling Jake on top of her. They joined and Maria began to moan. "¡Ay papito!" she sighed into Jake's ear. He responded only with a sly grin, thinking that the steroids had taken nothing away. Maria pulled closer to Jake's ear again and whispered, "Juan, eres mi principe."

    I stopped. I didn't withdraw, I just froze. Maria looked at me asking with her eyes what was wrong. Mine gave no response. I stared blankly ahead at the wall. She ran her hands over my abs again, over my biceps, and then grabbed on to my traps and pulled me closer.

    "What is it, baby?"

    I didn't answer. I couldn't. I left her and retreated into my bathroom. I turned on the light and looked in the mirror again. It was the same man I saw at the club. It wasn't me. It was Juan. But Juan was me. I couldn't be Juan. I yelled and threw a punch to make him go away. There were hundreds of Juan shards staring back at me now. I screamed. I ran out of the bathroom, out of the apartment. I was running faster than I had ever run before. I was running from Juan, I was running from myself, I was running from my dad. I ran to the beach. I ran for miles. I ran until the cliffs stretching out into the ocean blocked my path. Having nowhere else to run, I collapsed naked onto my knees and began weeping uncontrollably. I wept for my father, for Maria, for myself, for Juan, and most of all because I couldn't tell them apart.