Butterfly Weeds (10 page)

             
B
y Thursday morning, I had my worn-in, ebony jeep packed with the essentials – clothes, TV and CD player – and I was just about ready to set out on my new adventure when something in the distance caught my attention. While searching for an available space to stuff the last of my treasured possessions, I heard a car treading over gravel on the county road just up the hill. The sound caused me to look up from the dusty floorboard.

             
Through the leafy oak trees that lined the rock-covered path, I could see a red SUV kicking up sand-colored dust and gravel as it hurriedly made its way to the edge of my driveway. As a wave of excitement jetted through my body, I quickly found a tiny crevasse on the jeep’s floor and squeezed the final duffle bag into the last existing available space inside the vehicle. Then, I brushed the strands of my hair that had fallen into my eyes away with the back of my hand and waited anxiously.

             
The SUV came to rest behind my jeep moments later, and the boy in black, basketball shorts, a cut-off, red tee shirt and red and white tennis shoes stepped out and stood rigidly in front of me. His tee shirt made it possible for me to see his tan muscles protruding from his biceps, and I couldn’t help myself from noticing that his calf muscles, left exposed where his basketball shorts stopped, were just as defined. I wondered for a second if he had planned his outfit especially for today, yet quickly tossed the idea out. Will didn’t plan, and besides, this was his usual attire. Maybe I was just now realizing how much I
was going to miss it, miss him.

             
Today, he also wore his favorite hat bearing a popular brand of golf clubs across the face of the cap’s crown. I always thought the cap gave him a certain ruddy and handsome look that was completely irresistible. Today, as always, and even after three years, butterflies danced in my stomach as I watched his still figure watch me.

             
“You all packed?” he asked finally, through a half-smile.

             
“I think so,” I said, taking a glance inside the jeep.

             
Will watched as I then took two tries to close the passenger’s side door, leaning against it with all of my might.

             
“I told you you’d get in,” he said softly.

             
I paused and smiled up at him.

             
“Well, we can’t all make it into the fire academy,” I said.

             
Will’s eyes fell toward the dusty ground at his feet, and his cheeks turned a slight reddish color.

             
“I brought you something so you remember to remember me,” he said playfully, though slightly somber.

             
He stood stiffly in front of his driver’s side door, still facing me.

             
I gave him a gentle smile that froze into a half-smile as I spotted the sadness in his deep, azure eyes. My heart leapt out of my chest for him as I slowly made my way toward his motionless body. I never took my eyes off of his as I neared his figure, and when I was close enough to touch him, I swung my arms around his neck, brought his face down to mine a
nd pressed my nose against his.

             
“How could I forget about you?” I asked rhetorically. “If I forget about you, I’ve lost three of the happiest years of my life.”

             
His lips gradually formed a smile, while his eyes lingered in mine for a long second. Then, he pulled away and reached inside his open window, grabbed an object from his passenger’s seat and
slid it in between our embrace.

             
I slowly pulled away from his warm body when I noticed the bright, orange-petal flower resting in his hand. I smiled affectionately and reached out for the flower’s emerald stem, marveling at its beauty and the love that I knew was held within its petals.

             
“It’s a butterfly weed,” he said softly, releasing the flower into my hands.

             
My stare was on the flowers.

             
“It’s pretty for a weed. I’ve seen it before?” I asked.

             
“Yeah, along roads and in fields, pretty much everywhere around here. They keep cuttin’ ‘em down, but they always grow back. They never give up,” he added softly but confidently.

             
I stared into the flower’s bright center. I was smiling again.

             
He then kissed the part of my forehead where my hairline began as I happily examined my new bouquet and took in his words.

             
I could see now and even feel that the bloom’s willowy stem wasn’t soft or textured or even alive, but instead was mere plastic and its petals, silk. Will had given me plenty of flowers in the past – I admit that he had spoiled me. But none had been like this one.

             
As I stood quietly, tracing the flower’s design and pondering his flower selection, I glimpsed a small, hand-written note attached to the flower’s stem by a fine, white ribbon. I gently grasped the note in one hand and allowed my eyes to flo
at over its hand-written words:

             
I’ll love you until the last petal falls, Jules.

             
My heart instantly melted, and I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck again and kissed his lips. He was successfully chipping away at my brave, outer shell that I had miraculously crafted and had hidden behind throughout this whole leaving process. It had been the first time that I had seen him truly beside himself. The loneliness in his eyes made it seem as if he had already begun to miss me. I wanted to heal his abandoned expression. I was excited to start this new life, but now, all I wanted to do was hold him forever in
my arms and never let him go.

             
“Do you know why they never give up?” Will asked me softly. He was looking down at the sandy-colored dust surrounding his restless feet.

             
I shook my head.

             
“No,” I whispered.

             
Will paused for a moment and then met my eyes again.

             
“Because they want the butterflies to come back to them. They need each other to survive,” he said softly.

             
My sad eyes, full of love, remained on his.

             
“Julia,” he said again, almost in a whisper.

             
“Hmm,” I replied. I could feel the waterfall welling up behind my eyes.

             
“You’ll be my butterfly, right? You’ll come back to me?” he asked sheepishly.

             
My eyes then filled with salty tears almost instantly as my own butterflies in my stomach fled my body and were replaced by an overwhelming flow of emotions springing up from my chest and resting at the base of my now aching throat. I wanted to tell him so much, but through my tear-filled eyes and racing mind, I could only manage to communicate one, complete, yet wholly honest thought.

             
“I love you, Will Stephens, and I’ll never forget you. I’ll be your butterfly. I’ll always come back,” I said.

             
Will held me tightly in his embrace, until my parents came out to say goodbye. I left Will’s grip for an instant and wiped my tears with the back of my hand before hugging my mother and father. Then, I let Will walk me to the driver’s side of my jeep one last time before I left home. I pulled him close, and he gave me a kiss, and then he hesitantly opened my door and watched me climb into the driver’s seat.

             
“Drive carefully, Jules, and call me when you get there,” Will said, leaning into the driver’s side to kiss me again.

             
“I love you,” he said to me, with what I could tell was the best smile he had at the moment.

             
“I love you too,” I said, giving him the best smile I had also, through my drying tears.

             
Then, I backed my SUV up and then slid the gear shaft into drive before stepping on the gas pedal and slowly making my way up the long, curving driveway. At the top of the path, immediately before the start of the county road, I tapped on the breaks and blew Will a kiss. Will spotted my familiar gesture through the passenger’s side window, and like clockwork, put his fist up in the air to catch it. Then, I waved goodbye one last time and then bravely reset my focus on the county road in front of me. But no sooner had I got a half of a mile down the road, the sadness from the pit of my stomach welled up into my throat again, and the tears returned. The salty wetness gushed from my eyes as his figure grew smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror. My heart ached at the thought of him no longer being by my side to comfort me, and I missed him already, but I knew I had to go. This was the first step toward my dreams. I forced myself to think about my new adventure and the new things in store for me where I was going. And I focused on rebuilding my hard, outer shell again, trying desperately to stop the tears that poured onto my now cherry-colored cheeks as I continued down the rocky path, my butterfly weed on the seat next to me.