Butterfly Weeds (15 page)

             
As my jeep closed in on the old, wooden home with blue shutters, I spotted Will’s SUV in the white-graveled driveway. Then the nerves set in. They weren’t overwhelming – just enough to be annoying. I had run into Will a time or two while I was home from college and even a couple of times while I was at school and he was visiting a mutual friend. Those times had been short and the conversation even shorter. We had never spoken of the New Year’s Eve night. We never talked much about what was really going on in our lives. What each of us knew about the other was, of course, from the rumor mill. I often wondered what his mysterious call was about the night of that concert years ago, but surely, he had said what he was going to say by now. And for all I know, he had called me by mistake.

             
And now, I wasn’t entirely sure of how he would react to my sneak attack. I knew he had his fickle moments – those moments when I had no idea what he was thinking. All those years we had been together, I had really thought I knew him. These days, though, he was as unpredictable as an alley cat. One minute, he’s purring on your lap. The next, he’s scowling at you from the window sill, and you’re left wondering if he’s plotting your demise over there, just waiting for you to fall asleep. That’s Will. One minute, he’s fine and civil; the next, he’s reserved and cold.

             
I wondered what today would be like when I turned the ignition off moments later and stepped out of the jeep. The small house had an unattached garage, which led to a concrete sidewalk and three tiny, concrete stairs that I took to the house’s front porch. The wooden slats of the tiny porch gave way slightly under my feet, making low-pitched creaky noises, as I made my way to the door.

             
I let out an excited and slightly nervous sigh before pulling open the screen door and knocking three times on the solid, wooden, storm one behind it. I regretted for a short second not calling him first. What was I thinking? Everyone calls before stopping by. What did I have to gain in a sneak attack anyway?

             
When no one answered, I felt a small piece of relief. Maybe he wasn’t home.

             
I waited a minute and then followed the miniature wrap-around porch to the back of the house. I figured I would just look to see if he was out back. If he wasn’t, I was out of there.

             
At the same time, a tiny piece of sadness replaced my nervousness. I was, oddly enough, looking forward to catching up with him. I have Rachel to thank for keeping me connected to my past, and believe me, she does a good job of it. But Will holds a different connection to that time. I was kind of looking forward to getting lost in it for an hour or so.

             
I turned the corner of the wrap-around porch, lost in my own regret, when I saw him. He was there, just sitting in a chair next to the lake about the size of a football field, with a thin, dark fishing pole resting in his hands.

             
I smiled.

             
I could really only see his back, and he was wearing an old baseball cap, but I could still tell that he looked good. And not a good for the circumstances
good
, but a good,
good
. And I suddenly remembered how I could have fallen for him years ago.

             
I paused for a moment before I took another step or made my presence known, and gazed around the backyard. Golf balls littered perfect, freshly cut, green grass. Trees lined the lawn and the back of the lake, and everything was still, peaceful, quiet – perfectly still. Gone were the nerves and the regret for not calling. This was home, and I loved that I could see it in its natural state for even just a moment.

             
“Will,” I eventually called out from the porch. There was a smile in the way I had said his name.

             
Will turned in his chair toward the direction of my voice.

             
I noticed his bright, blue eyes first. They seemed to smile even before I could see his lips rise at their corners.

             
“Hey,” he said, immediately setting his fishing pole onto the ground, rising up from his wooden lawn chair and making his way toward me. He had a surprise in his voice.

             
I kept my eyes on him, uncovering one memory at a time about the way he assembled his steps – smooth, long strides, his right foot slightly turned out, something the average glance would never notice – as he made his way toward me.

             
“Your aunt said you would be here this weekend,” I said, starting to explain my presence, while I leaned into his embrace when he reached me.

             
“Well, here I am,” he said, gesturing toward the la
ke. “Pull up a chair.”

             
I followed him to the edge of the water again and sank deep into an oversized, handmade lawn chair. Then, I shoved my hands into my jacket’s pockets and crossed my legs to ward off the late evening, September chill and made myself comfortable.

             
“Are they biting?” I asked, thankful that he had taken my unannounced visit well so far.

             
“A little, but I haven’t caught any yet,” he said. “It’s probably getting too cold. I heard you were back in town – for how long?” he asked. He was still smiling.

             
The rumor mill was still alive and well. The thought was oddly comforting.

             
“I’m here for a little more than a month,” I said softly. “I’m substituting up at the school.”

             
I noticed his smile begin to fade. I suspected it had something to do with me leaving again, so I continued in hopes of distracting him.

             
“I don’t mind it. I actually kind of like it, and it gives me something to do in the meantime,” I finished.

             
“I see. Then where are you going?” he asked hesitantly.

             
I hated telling him that I was leaving. Suddenly, I felt as if we were in high school all over again and I was telling him for the first time that I was going away to college. And strangely, I could tell he felt the same way – whether it made sense to or not.

             
The truth was that I still cared a great deal about him, and I would still do anything to protect his heart. Despite the fact that our relationship status had down-graded years ago, his friendship meant the world to me – even in its infrequent and sometimes irregular forms.

             
“I’m going to school in
California
, and then we’ll see from there,” I finally managed to get out.

             
“
California
?” Will blurted out. “And more school? What are you going for now?” he asked somberly, and now with a hint of sarcasm in his voice.

             
His whole demeanor was beginning to change – quickly.

             
“Law,” I replied.

             
“Law,” Will said to himself. “Well, that’s your dream,” he continued, forcing a smile and nodding his head.

             
I was relieved to see a smile again.

             
“But why
California
?” he asked. “That’s like a whole, different country. You know there’s no grass or trees out there. Wasn’t there something closer?”

             
I laughed.

             
“It’s warm though,” I confessed with a grin.

             
Will laughed.

             
“So, if I find a way to get rid of the winter here, you’ll stay closer for once?” he asked, still smiling.

             
“I’ll stay forever,” I promised.

             
“What about palm trees?” he continued. “What if I plant some palm trees, would that help?”

             
I smiled and shook my head.

             
“Yeah, I didn’t think so,” he said, smiling also.

             
There was a brief silence as the tree frogs started their nightly song in the thick brush behind us.

             
“Well, I guess you’ve got the arguing thing down already,” Will blurted out eventually, somewhat changing the subject. “You know, for the whole lawyer thing.”

             
I hesitated for a second.

             
“Yeah, I guess,” I said. “Thanks for that, by the way.”

             
“Happy to help,” he said, chuckling.

             
Our smiles again faded and were replaced by a reflective silence. It was just enough time for me to wonder if I had been wrong to come tonight. He didn’t seem like he was in the mood for reminiscing or even talking, for that matter.

             
“Happiness is like a butterfly, you know?” Will blurted out then, interrupting my thoughts.

             
I looked back at him with a puzzled expression infused across my face.

             
“What?” I asked. There was a slight hesitation in my voice, though I was slightly intrigued. Where was he going with this?

             
“The more you chase it, the more it will elude you, but if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit on your shoulder,” he recited.

             
“It’s Thoreau,” he added.

             
“Hmm,” I said slowly. I wasn’t quite sure how to respond to his seemingly out-of-place statement, and I definitely didn’t have a clue as to what he was talking about.

             
I nodded my head in mostly apathetic agreement and then quickly changed the subject. Maybe this is what his aunt was talking about him not being himself lately. I reminded myself I would take his friendship in all of its forms. Then, I smiled warmly.

             
“So, how have you been? What have you been up to these days?” I asked excitedly.

             
“Working, golfing, fishing,” he rambled off. “You’re looking at it.”

             
His words had grown somewhat cold.

             
I nodded again as I watched him bob the fishing pole up and down so that the bobber methodically bounced in the water, causing circular ripples.