Butterfly Weeds (37 page)

             
I too returned my gaze to the night sky.

             
When he finally spoke again, I could see out of the corner of my eye that he was nodding his head.

             
“A vegetarian. Really?” he remarked.

             
He sounded surprised.

             
“That is a big change alright – but I’m afraid that you’re going to have to do better than that if you want to scare me off, Miss Lang,” he said.

             
My eyes returned to him. I should have known it wouldn’t be that easy.

             
“Jules, as long as you haven’t taken to eating people – and I’m pretty sure that’s against the vegetarian bylaws – I could care less if you order the garden salad instead of the prime rib.”

             
Then, he paused for effect.

             
“Vegetarians don’t eat people, right?” he asked me, chuckling.

             
I looked into
his big, blue eyes and smiled.

             
“See, My Dear, you’ve still got most of your morals, at least,” Will said, smirking at me.

             
I laughed softly.

             
“But, seriously, Jules, it really is simple,” he stated. “See, I’m in love with the person you can never outrun. I’m in love with you, Julia.”

             
I took a deep breath in and then slowly let it out. I didn’t know if it was his words or the way he so seductively said them that left my lips speechless and my mind a cluttered mess.

             
You’re a lawyer for God’s sake, Julia. Pull yourself together.

             
I took a few moments, let his words settle in, and then I ineptly scrambled in search of my own words.

             
“Will,” I finally said. I spoke softly, my eyes locked on the butterfly weed pressed in between my fingers. I took another deep breath and slowly let the air escape from my lungs and then through my dry lips. I could feel every painful heartbeat in my chest as I formulated what
I knew I had to say.

             
“I just thin
k,” I started and then stopped.

             
“I think that it has been a long time,” I continued. “We’re two, different people now, despite what you might think. We’re not two sixteen-year-olds. You have your life here, and I have mine in
Charleston
,” I said, gaining steam. “You fight fires and have an amazing, singing career. And I have a great job doing something I love also, and then there’s D.C. and work there someday possibly. You see, no matter how you look at it, our lives jus
t don’t match up anymore.”

             
I paused before continuing. The words had come out as if I had recited them over and over in my head at least a hundred times before, and in that instant, I almost wondered if I had, in fact, recited them subconsciously. Then, I looked into Will’s eyes, which were now cast down on a spot near the edge of the car’s hood.

             
“I just don’t think it would ever work, Will,” I pleaded with him. “We’re living our realities now.”

             
Hearing my own words echo back stabbed my heart; but nevertheless, I found a blind courage to continue.

             
“But I promise you that you’ll be with me in my dreams. When I lay my head down on my pillow each night, when time is all my own to escape the world and dream, I’ll meet you there. We’ll both be sixteen, and we’ll be happy, and we’ll do all the things we used to do. What we had belongs in dreams and meeting there each night seems to work well anyway,” I said with a soft smile. “But as for us in this lifetime, we’ve just changed too much, become two, different people and followed two, different paths. It’
s life, Will, not a fairytale.”

             
I finished, and the two of us sat in silence for what felt like an eternity. Then, he finally spoke.

             
“Why did you come back, Jules?” he asked soberly.

             
“I made a promise,” I said softly.

             
“But why now?” he asked.

             
“It’s a good cause, Will,” I stammered.

             
It was a lie – for the most part. It was a good cause, but I also knew that it wasn’t the cause or the promise that had brought me back.

             
Will didn’t reply. He just sat there, seemingly defeated. Then, he turned and faced me and took my hand in his and kissed my soft, slightly tanned skin.

             
“Julia, you have been my world since I first laid eyes on you, and you may not realize it, but I have taken you with me everyday in the last decade. Please know that there is not one moment that I stopped loving you. You are the reason for my smiles and my songs. You are my hope and my inspiration. My heart has only beaten for you. I do admit that I had my doubts, none of which involved my love for you. I did worry that you had forgotten me and that you had forgotten what we had, but just being here with you now, it’s proof. It proves to me that you haven’t. I see no change in your eyes, and it’s the most comforting feeling I’ve ever known. Jules, please know that I will love you unceasingly for many lifetimes to come.”

             
He took a deep breath and then slowly let it out before he continued.

             
“Jules, but no matter what big dreams you’re living or what lucky guy you end up marrying…,” he said, as his words trailed off.

             
I heard him clear his throat, as silence filled the thick air around us.

             
“Please know that I love you. Even if I have to do it in secret – or in dreams – I’ll love you forever,” he finished.

             
Then, as if feeling helplessly conquered, he set my hand gently back down onto my bended knee and methodically slid do
wn the hood of my rented sedan.

             
When his feet met the ground below, he turned back toward my motionless figure.

             
“I guess I’ll be seeing you in my dreams,” he said, with a saddened smile, while touching his finger to the bill of his baseball cap.

             
Then, he started to turn, but hesitated.

             
“And, Jules,” he began and then paused.

             
My eyes met his.

             
“I believe that there is a perfect someone for everyone, and I know that you still believe that too. There is a perfect someone, even if the road to that someone isn’t all that perfect,” he added.

             
His deep blue eyes pierced mine as he spoke. And though I could barely see his irises through the shadow of his cap, I did see the hand that inconspicuously brushed his cheek. He had tears escaping from his eyes. I had never seen him cry.

             
Then, he slowly turned and made his way back to his SUV, pausing before lifting the door handle but never looking back. Instead, he opened the door and slowly slid into the driver’s seat.

             
Though I remained steadfast in my convictions, my eyes had joined my heart and now rebelled against me as well, slowly and involuntarily releasing salty tears onto my already red cheeks again. Watching him walk away, I yearned to pull him back and bring his muscular body close to mine, and for an instant, I sat up from the windshield and almost followed after him, but I miraculously resisted the urge, allowing my head to guide my actions.

             
Then, I watched him stare for a minute into his steering wheel, start the ignition and eventually and slowly pull away. I could just barely see through my misty eyes his tires kicking up gravel and dust in the glow from his taillights as his SUV faded further and further into obscurity. And t
hen, he was gone.

             
I
sat frozen on the hood of my rented sedan. I couldn’t help but feel as if a piece of my heart had jumped out of my chest and had followed Will as he drove farther and farther away from me just moments ago. I still held his pale peach flowers locked within my fingertips, and now, I tried desperately to hold back the constant flow of tears that threatened to flood my eyelids. The moment felt as if I had just let the tiny, happy, boxed-up memory of my high school sweetheart walk out of my life with him tonight. And in reality, it had. Could it have been that that memory had given me the security – albeit a false sense, but security all the same – that I needed to believe that everything in every part of my life would always be okay? As long as I had the memory of us at seventeen, a piece of me always felt like I still had him as well, I think. But now that I was almost certain that in the future I could, try as I might, only be able to conjure up the lasting image of his SUV fading into the distance, I felt helpless. Now, only a hollow shell remained where our last, miniature piece of love had been stored. With him, my jovial memory of the slice of life that we had shared together had disappeared from my life completely, and it was more than I could bear. Hurt and an inexplicable heartache overwhelmed me, but I had done the right thing. We had parted ways for a reason, and in time, my heart would heal again.

             
I wiped my rebellious tears away as I sat staring up into the black sky, spattered with dashes of light, most of which were now obscured by the mist in my eyes. The lights had attracted my already divided attention, and though they appeared somewhat blurry to me now, a few stars quickly became my main focal point. I watched, entranced, as the few soon became dozens, and then the dozens, hundreds, and then they all worked together to bring character to the dark and empty background that was tonight’s sky. It was beautiful – just as I had left it years ago. I inhaled deeply again through my nose and smelled the familiar mixture of tall grasses and aged maple. I knew the smell well. It had always been the aroma that I had associated with the country, untouched by smog or pollution, just a mixture of trees and wildlife.

             
My fingers then carefully caressed the flower’s petals in front of me, while my eyes glanced over the note that dangled from its stem. I read again the hand-written inscription:
I’ll love you until the last petal falls
.

             
“Hmm,” I said, letting out a deep, thoughtful sigh. All life had shown me when it had come to love was that it was far from a fairytale. It was what it was – a lot of planning and strategy and compatibility. Not much risk was involved after the age of eighteen. After that, time never really stopped, and a day planner became your best friend.