My Butterfly (10 page)

“I saw the way she was looking at you,” he said.

I squinted my eyes and cocked my head.

“This should be perfect,” the girl said, returning with a spool of white string.

She reached in between Jeff and me and took the flowers.

“What do you think?” she asked, holding the two up together.

“Looks great,” I said.

“Your girlfriend will love it,” the girl said, placing her hand on my arm again.

My stare found Jeff. He was rolling his eyes.

“Unbelievable,” he huffed, turning away.

I smiled and returned my attention to the girl.

“Thanks,” I said.

“Don’t mention it,” she said, sending me a wink.

...

I stopped Lou at the top of the county road. My chest was tight. It had been tight all day, which made it kind of hard to breathe at times. I took in a deep breath, and it came right back out. My eyes fell on the butterfly weed in the passenger’s seat. Its plastic stem looked exactly like it had the day I had bought it. The girl in the dime store said the orange flowers were made of “real silk.” I hoped Jules liked them. But more so, I hoped she understood why I had chosen them.

I picked up the flowers and examined them again. The note I had written was attached to the flowers’ stem by the little, white string or ribbon. It was a ribbon—not a string, evidently. I had promised the girl in the dime store that I wouldn’t call it a string anymore.

I peeked at the note one more time. It still said the same thing it had said the last twenty times I had looked at it:
I’ll love you until the last petal falls, Jules.

I took a deep breath again, and this time, I let it out slowly. My grandmother was the reason I had thought to do this for Jules. She had always had these flowers planted all over her garden. I remembered asking her one day why she had planted them everywhere, and she had told me that these were the flowers that brought the butterflies back every spring. I remembered watching out her window one warm, April afternoon, just to make sure she hadn’t been pulling my leg. But sure enough, I saw the butterflies. And I went back last weekend to see the butterflies. They were one thing certain, when everything else wasn’t.

I tugged at a petal on one of the flowers. It didn’t move much. It seemed to be on there pretty tight. I smiled a satisfied grin and turned my eyes to the gravel road again. It was time to face the music. I laid the flowers back down onto the passenger seat and stepped on the gas.

Moments later, I pulled into her parents’ driveway. The thought of her leaving made my stomach sink. I edged down the white gravel and eventually brought Lou to a stop at the base of the drive. Jules’s jeep was there too and already stuffed full of the life she wanted to take with her to college. I sighed when I noticed that there wasn’t any room for me.

Jules was on the passenger’s side. I watched her for a moment try to stuff one, last piece of her life into the jeep. It reminded me of that first day of school when I had watched her try to squeeze her big duffle bag into her locker, and it made me smile. And for a moment, I almost couldn’t believe that I had had the chance to call her mine for these last, perfect years.

Eventually, it looked as if she had finally gotten whatever it was that she was trying to fit into the front seat secured, and she met my stare. I smiled at her. Her hair was up in a ball on the top of her head. Pieces of it, though, had come loose and now invaded the sides of her face. After a few more seconds of taking her in, I lifted the door handle and stepped out of my truck.

“You all packed?” I asked.

She peeked inside the passenger’s window and then looked back at me.

“I think so,” she said.

I watched her take two tries to close the door, each time putting the little weight she had into persuading the door shut.

“I told you you’d get in,” I said.

She paused and looked up.

“And I was right about the scholarship to run track too,” I added.

I could see her lips starting to give way to a smile.

“Well, we can’t all make it into the fire academy,” she said, finally getting the door closed.

I chuckled once as my eyes turned down toward the ground at my feet.

“I brought you something so you remember to remember me,” I said.

I tried to swallow, but there was a lump in my throat. Instead, I looked up to see her taking steps toward me. She was wearing those little jean shorts that she always wore and a tank top with her favorite band stretched across its front. And she was tan—that summer sun kind of tan that made her blond hair blonder and every part of her that much more irresistible. I tried to smile, but in the end, I knew that I couldn’t hide how I really felt.

Eventually, she got close enough to touch me. Then, she threw her arms around my neck and pulled my face close to hers.

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

I tried so hard to force a smile, but the more I got lost in her eyes, the more I wanted this all to be a dream—a dream where I wake up and she’s telling me that she’ll stay in our little town forever.

“Jules,” I said.

“Hmm?” she asked.

“Sometimes I love you so much it hurts,” I said. “Is that normal?”

Her smile faltered and turned sad before it grew happy again.

“Mm hmm,” she said, nodding her head.

“How do you know?” I asked.

“Because I’m normal, and it hurts me too sometimes,” she said.

I felt the corners of my lips naturally edging up my face. Then, I let my eyes rest in hers for a little while. It was always comfortable and happy in her eyes. Then, suddenly, I remembered the flowers again, and I broke our stare to retrieve them. After snatching them from the passenger’s seat, I brought them to rest at a place in between us. Then, I watched her eyes lock onto flowers.

“It’s a butterfly weed,” I said, in almost a whisper.

She took the flowers into her hands.

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

I smiled.

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

I watched her smile brighten as she stared into the flowers. And eventually, she came to the note attached to the stem by the little white ribbon and stopped to follow over its words.

“Do you know why they never give up?” I whispered near her ear.

She slowly shook her head back and forth.

“No,” she whispered.

I met her eyes.

“Because they want the butterflies to come back to them,” I whispered. “They need each other to survive.”

Her gaze slowly fell to the flowers clasped within her slender fingers.

“Julia,” I said again.

“Hmm?” she replied.

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

She looked up at me again, and I could see her eyes filling with water. I didn’t mean for her to cry. I didn’t mean to make her sad.

“I love you, Will Stephens, and I’ll never forget you,” she said in a soft, broken voice. “I’ll be your butterfly. I’ll always come back home.”

I wrapped my arms around her then and held her as tightly as I could. I imagined never letting her go.

“You’re brave,” I said, “doing this all alone.”

I felt her body press harder against mine.

“Don’t leave,” I whispered into her ear.

She held me a little longer, then slowly pulled away when her parents came out to meet her.

Her lips seemed as if they were trying to
force a smile when her eyes met mine again. I knew she wouldn’t stay, and I didn’t expect her to, and I knew she knew that.

I watched her turn and felt her hand squeeze mine for an instant and then let go as she made her way to her parents.

“Mr. and Mrs. Lang,” I said, tipping my cap.

“Hi, Will,” her mom said to me with a warm smile.

I could tell she had been crying too.

I watched as Jules hugged her mom and then her dad and then made her way back to me.

“You ready?” I asked her.

“No,” she softly said, shaking her head.

“Sure you are,” I said, doing the best I could to muster up a smile.

I walked her to the driver’s side of her jeep. Then, she pulled me close and pressed her lips against mine. The feel of her kiss sent a shiver down my spine. It was almost as if her lips were sealing her promise—the promise that she’d come back.

But eventually, she pulled away and locked her green eyes in my blues.

“I’m not brave,” she said, shaking her head. “I’m just determined, and if I don’t leave here alone, I just might change my mind about all of this.”

My smile brightened, and my eyes faltered and fell to the ground at our feet before returning to hers.

“Go get your dream, Butterfly,” I said.

I watched as a wide, perfect smile eventually found its way to her face. Then, slowly, she climbed behind the wheel.

“Drive carefully, Jules, and call me when you get there,” I said, leaning into the driver’s side window to meet her lips one, last time before she pulled away.

“I love you,” I added, when our kiss broke.

“A million times a million?” she asked.

She was forcing a smile now, so I did too.

“A million times a million and to the moon and back,” I said.

“I love you too,” she whispered, through her drying tears.

Her eyes lingered in mine for a second or two longer. Then, I took a step back from her door. It seemed as if she tried to smile again, but the corners of her lips just never quite succeeded at fully turning up, in the end. Then, she planted her eyes straight ahead and stepped on the gas.

I watched as her jeep ambled over the rocks in the driveway, leaving me behind. I pretended that she was just going to get a pizza from the next town over or a movie from Wally’s.

Then, at the top of the driveway, she stopped. I stood up straighter and looked for her. And through the passenger’s window, I caught her kissing the palm of her hand and then blowing it my way. I threw my fist into the air and acted like I was catching it. Then, I waved goodbye.

False Alarm

“D
amn it,” I said, under my breath, as I turned the knob that quieted the tones.

My eyes found hers. She was disappointed; I could tell. But she put on a soft smile anyway.

“I’ll get it to go,” she said.

I felt a heavy sigh escape past my lips.

“Thanks, babe,” I said, pushing out my chair and stepping toward her. “Do you mind hangin’ out with Jeff for awhile.”

Still smiling, she shook her head.

I kissed her lips and gestured over to Jeff. Jeff scurried over and planted his feet in front of me.

“Are you getting off soon?” I asked him.

“Yeah, in about ten minutes,” he said, glancing at his watch.

“Good,” I said. “Can you take Julia to wherever she wants to go?”

“Sure,” Jeff said, smiling a wide, toothy grin in Julia’s direction.

“Thanks, buddy,” I said, patting him on the shoulder.

“I’m sorry, baby,” I said to Jules. “I’ll call you when we’re finished.”

“Okay,” she said. “Be careful.”

“I will,” I replied, before turning and hurrying out the door.

Moments later, I was jumping into my truck and reaching into the backseat for my light. It took me a second, but I eventually found it, stuck it to the roof and flipped it on.

The first week she was back in town from school, and I had a call. I let go of another big sigh and then threw the truck into reverse and then first.

The fire station wasn’t even a mile down the road from the tiny bar, and about a minute later, I was already pulling into the little parking lot. It looked as
though I was the first one there, except for the captain, who always seemed to be there. I quickly turned off the ignition and jumped out, slamming the door behind me.

Within seconds, I was inside the station and thrusting my hand against the button on the wall that sent the bay doors flying open.

By the time I reached my gear, someone was already behind me. It was Mike. He usually drove the tanker truck if we needed it, but we wouldn’t be needing it today.

I stepped into my pants and boots and threw the suspenders over my shoulders. My jacket was hanging on a hook on the wall. I grabbed it and forced my arms into its holes. Then, I grabbed my hat.

“Nothin’ like gettin’ a call in the middle of an argument with your wife,” Mike said, with a wide grin.

I paused and smiled back at him. He was still wiggling into his
pants.