Butterfly Weeds (21 page)

             
“That’s great, Will. I’m really happy for you,” I half-lied.

             
I tried to sound sincere. I think I might have just pulled it off.

             
He was quiet for a second.

             
“Thanks, Jules. It means a lot,” he eventually said softly, before taking a deep breath in and then letting the air out slowly through his lips.

             
“Jules, I don’t want you to take this the wrong way, and I’m just curious, but do you ever still think about us?” Will asked sheepishly, cautiously.

             
I hesitated.

             
“What do you mean?” I asked him, somewhat derailed by the drastic change in subject.

             
“I mean the little things we’ve shared, the times we’ve shared,” he clarified.

             
I took a second.

             
“Sometimes,” I quietly answered, remembering my dream.

             
Will paused, as if not expecting to hear that exact response. I panicked slightly. My bleeding heart had been exposed, and my head scrambled to pick up the pieces.

             
“I do think about how we were sometimes, and it makes me smile. We had some good times together, times that I’ll probably never forget, but I also know now that things have changed – we have changed. We’re not the same people we were in high school, and I’ve come to understand that, like I know you have too,” I explained.

             
I stopped and waited for his response. Eventually, he spoke again.

             
“We did have some fun, didn’t we?” Will asked and stated softly.

             
I could picture him gently smiling on the other end of the phone. I could almost see his lips widening across his strong, structured face, revealing his bright, white teeth and causing creases at the corners of his baby blue eyes in the words he spoke.

             
Then, he continued.

             
“You know, I was just thinking about it the other day, and I kept coming back to something. I know that people generally change the way they see the world as they grow, and I guess that changes some things, but I also kept coming back to the fact that I’m still the same person that I was when I was seventeen. I’ve just grown a little, seen a little bit more.”

             
As Will finished his thoughts, I was again at a loss for words for a moment. Was he going somewhere with this? Then, just as quickly, my education in argumentation bolted wildly into the conversation like a wild mustang discovering freedom for the very first time.

             
“But isn’t growing ultimately changing?” I asked. I wasn’t even sure myself what I was talking about. It sounded kind of good, I rationalized.

             
Will paused. He didn’t seem to agree exactly, but he refrained from voicing his opinion either way, opting to change the subject altogether once again instead.

             
“I was just curious as to how you felt about it, you being the philosophical expert out of the two of us,” Will said jokingly.

             
Will’s comment elicited a giggle from me, and then our conversation grew quiet again.

             
“Well, I hope you have a great birthday, Jules,” Will said one last time, filling the silence.

             
“Thanks, and thanks for calling,” I replied politely.

             
“Anytime, Jules,” he said softly. “I’ll talk to you soon.”

             
“Bye, Will,” I said.

             
I hung up the phone, paused and then pushed the thick comforter off of my body and rolled out of bed.

             
“That was odd,” I muttered.

             
I usually would have stopped to analyze the conversation, but this particular morning, a million errands scrolled through my mind. Brady would be here soon, and I still had to run to the grocery store, straighten up and take a shower. But for now, however, I settled on a quick jog around the neighborhood. I needed something that would wake me up quickly and get my blood flowing.

             
I threw on some running shorts, a tee shirt and tennis shoes and picked up my MP3 player off of the small, round table in the tiny hallway.

             
As I stepped out the door, I caught myself thinking that it was nice to hear from Will. I cherished the fact that we had continued to remain friends, even after the friendship had changed and shifted throughout the years. And I was happy for him, I admitted. I knew that deep, deep, deep down somewhere, I wanted only the best for him, which included him being just as happy with someone else as I was with Brady. Good for him, I tried to convince myself again. Good for him.

             
But that dream, on the other hand, I thought, remembering it again. I tried unsuccessfully to shake off its image – that feeling.

             
“You’ve got to stop haunting me like that, Will Stephens,” I mumbled to myself, as I turned on the music player and started my jog down the concrete sidewalk of my neighborhood.

             
“I
wish you didn’t have to go,” I said, as I took his bottle of water.

             
“I know,” he said softly. “I’ll miss you.”

             
He faced me then and wrapped his arms around my frame.

             
“I’ll miss you too,” I said, following his lead and squeezing him tightly also. “Call me as soon as you land.”

             
“Don’t worry. I will, and I’ll see you in a few weeks, right?” he asked. There was a hint of optimism in his voice as he pulled away from our embrace.

             
“Yeah, I can’t wait already,” I confessed, smiling.

             
“Okay, give me a kiss,” he said. “This plane’s going to take off with or without me.”

             
“Would that be such a bad thing – without you, I mean?” I asked, smiling slightly still.

             
Brady smiled too.

             
I kissed Brady and then watched him throw his bag up onto the security belt. A part of me ached. I wanted to tell him not to leave me again. Maybe his flight would get cancelled. Maybe there would be a delay and he could stay for lunch or something – at the very least. Maybe there would be a surprise snow storm in the middle of September in
Southern California
. Or what about lightning or maybe the pilot overslept or they forgot to stock the cabin with peanuts – anything?

             
I let out a heavy sigh. I knew the odds were against me. If those things happened, they never happened when you wanted them to anyway. Plus, I knew he had to get back to school and his job. I had to get back to school too, but it didn’t stop me from wishing I didn’t and that there was still hope he would stay for just a little bit longer.

             
I continued to watch him as he slipped his shoes and his watch back on and then collected back his bag from the moving conveyor belt. He waved one last time, and I waved back before the escalator escorted him out of site.

             
I continued to stare at the place on the moving stairs where he had disappeared into the vanishing corridor. Maybe he would reappear again. Maybe he would change his mind and stay for an extra day – maybe even forever.

             
Long seconds drew on, but Brady never reappeared. I sighed in defeat and then turned back toward the airport terminal’s exit. This was going to be a long three weeks.

             
I reached home minutes later, and by then, I felt exhausted. Not only had Brady and I jam-packed a week’s worth of activities into two days, a constant sense of missing him, even in the hours before he had left, had emotionally drained me.

             
“How was leaving your boy at the airport?” April shouted from upstairs when I walked into the apartment.

             
April had become a close companion while in law school. In fact, our friendship, in a way, made me feel like I had known her since childhood. Then again, law school had a way of doing that to people, I had figured out somewhere along the way. We shared a common suffering.

             
“It went okay, I guess. I miss him already, but he’ll be back in three weeks or so,” I replied, my voice fading as the sentence drew on. I was working hard to fight off the pain of missing him.

             
April’s question satisfied, I sauntered into the kitchen, set my purse down onto a chair and dropped my keys onto the white countertop. Thoughts of my ever-present homework assignments loomed over my head as I gazed out onto the tiny piece of ocean that I could just barely see out of the window. It was the only piece we could afford. And I think it was by total accident that we could even see it at all. They had just torn down the high rise that would have obstructed our ocean view months before we moved in.

             
My thoughts slowly tapered away as my eyes caught a lighthouse coming to life in the far distance. Then, I spotted a tiny ship softly gliding on top of the ocean’s gentle waves behind it. And before I knew it, my gaze had transformed into a stare, and my studious thoughts had completely faded to the back of my mind and were replaced with thoughts of Brady. I hoped that his flight would go well and that he would be able to take a nap on the plane before he would have to make the two-hour drive back to his apartment in
Columbia
. And I hoped that he had enjoyed his weekend with me, and I wondered if he missed me now as much as I missed him.

             
I noticed that, by now, the tiny ship had drifted behind a massive, asphalt-paved hill and out of sight, leaving only the modest lighthouse and the distant, soothing waves to my longing stare. I stood frozen in my place, entranced by the ocean’s endless vastness. It was almost as if that miniscule piece of sea were calling out to me, at the same time that I was pleading with loneliness not to take me hostage. It was already too late though. The all-consuming creature had already stolen me away. I felt trapped, and I needed some air.