My Butterfly (33 page)

Suddenly, Mrs. Lang appeared in the hallway again.

“Okay,” she said, looking at the two of us. “Let’s see what we can find.”

She shuffled to the bottom of the stairs and then started her climb. Rachel followed her, and I followed Rachel.

“Oh, Will, how is the singing going?” Mrs. Lang asked.

I took another step before I answered.

“It’s going all right,” I said.

“It was so funny,” Mrs. Lang went on. “Eric and I were up and about that morning that you were on the
Good Morning
show, you know?”

“Mm hmm,” I said.

“Well, all of a sudden, we heard your voice,” she continued, without missing a beat. “I knew it was your voice. And both of us just immediately stopped what we were doing. I’m not kidding. I set my cup down onto the counter—well, I guess, it more or less fell to the counter—and we both just gravitated to the television as if we were zombies. I couldn’t believe my eyes.”

She stopped at the top of the stairs, and Rachel slipped past her.

“I’m so proud of you, Will,” she said, giving me that motherly smile that makes them look as if they want to cry too.

I smiled, and my cheeks turned hot.

“It’s nothing really,” I assured her.

She tilted her head slightly to the side.

“And you’re staying safe with the whole firefighter thing?” she asked. “No more falling from two-story buildings?”

“No, ma’am,” I said, shaking my head, my eyes cast down again.

“I hope not,” she said.

She rested her hand on
my shoulder and lightly nudged me onward.

Rachel was already sprawled out onto the bed when I stepped into the room. I quickly glanced around and then immediately retraced
my steps in my mind.

“Is this Julia’s room?” I asked.

“Mm hmm,” Rachel said.

“Well,” Rachel continued. “It’s the guest quarters now.”

She had said her last words in a British accent for some reason.

“It’s better than that awful lavender that Mrs. L let Julia paint it,” Rachel said.

Mrs. Lang turned and smiled at Rachel.

I looked around the room. All of Jules’s 4-H trophies were gone, along with all her track medals, her favorite band posters and that frightfully big, stuffed bear that always sat in the corner of the room. And while I didn’t so much miss the bear, I did miss everything else—everything that made this room Jules’s.

I watched Mrs. Lang pull open the closet door and tug on a beaded strand, which immediately lit the little room.

“Now, I know I saw them when I was packing away her things, so they’re in here somewhere,” she said, pulling down a shoe box from a shelf. “
Somewhere
is the keyword.”

She smiled at us and opened the shoe box.

“Here, Mrs. L, I’ll help you look,” Rachel said, jumping up from the bed.

I glanced at the two of them in the closet, rooting through years of Julia’s life, now in boxes.

“Let me know if I can do anything,” I said to them, rocking back on my heels.

They were talking quietly to each other, so I wasn’t even sure
if they had heard me. I felt uncomfortable all of a sudden being in Julia’s room without her being there. My eyes wandered around again, as I fell into the place on the bed that Rachel had just been. The room was painted a light greenish color now. The curtains were all white and in that material with all the holes in it. And there was a big picture of a field of flowers. The flowers were purple. Maybe they were for Jules—a lasting piece of her favorite color when everything else of hers was in boxes.

Suddenly, I heard giggling from the closet, and then I felt a soft, stuffed thing hit the side of my head.

“Remember that?” Rachel asked.

I collected myself and then spotted a small, stuffed animal that kind of resembled a cat lying on the floor. I smiled and bent over to retrieve it.

“Julia loved that thing for some reason,” Rachel said.

I ran my fingers over the stuffed animal’s glass eyes and sewn-on nose. Furballs. It was uglier than I had remembered it; though, the memory was far from ugly. I smiled to myself.

“I think I found them,” Rachel screamed just then.

My eyes quickly turned up toward the closet just in time to see Rachel pull out a bouquet of butterfly weeds from a cardboard box. She smiled and held the flowers out toward me.

“Your flowers, sir,” she said, with a big grin tattooed to her face.

I stood up, walked over to her and took the flowers into my hands. The last time I had held them, her jeep was packed, her smile was wide, and her dreams were waiting—to escort her right out of my life.

“Now, go get your fight, Will,” Rachel said, squeezing my arm.

I looked up at the two of them and smiled.

“Thank you,” I said, before returning my gaze to the butterfly weeds now cradled in my hands.

The Concert

“H
ey, Rach, you made it,” I said.

“Of course I made it,” Rachel said, shooting me a strange look.

She eyed me up and down once.

“She’ll be here,” she eventually said.

I shifted my weight and tried to force a smile.

“But how do you know?” I asked.

“I know Julia,” she said. “She didn’t have to say she’d be here for me to know she’d be here.”

There were too many
heres
in her sentence, and I got lost somewhere in there, but it didn’t matter. I knew the moral of her story. I just hoped it rang true.

Suddenly then, Rachel grabbed my arm and pulled me closer to her.

“Now, if you don’t tell her that you love her TONIGHT,” she whispered near my ear, “I’ll cut your balls off and sell you for bacon.”

I was tongue-tied when she finally released my arm from her death grip, but sometime during her threat, a happy grin had also managed to find its way to my face.

“Now, go break a leg,” she said, shoving me hard in the bicep.

I shook my head as I watched her dance to her seat at the front of the stage. Then, I took a deep breath in and caught a glimpse of the guy I had been looking for.

“Uh, hey, Alex, got a favor for ya,” I said, grabbing his attention.

Alex stopped and faced me.

“Whatcha need?” he asked.

I pulled out a photo of Julia from the inside pocket of my jacket and held it out to him. He took it in his hands and examined it.

“Pretty girl,” he said and then looked back up at me.

I smiled to myself.

“You mind telling me if you see her in the crowd?” I asked him.

He slowly nodded his head.

“Sure, Will,” he said.

Then, I brought my face closer to his and lowered my voice.

“Is there any way you could let me know if you happen to see her during the concert?” I asked.

He looked into my eyes and then back at the photo.

“Uh, yeah, sure,” he said. “I could give you a wave or something if I see her.”

“A wave,” I repeated. “That sounds great.”

A smile slid across my face.

“You ready, Will?” I heard Matt call out from behind us then.

I looked up at Matt and then back at Alex.

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

He smiled and then tucked the photo into his shirt pocket.

“Anytime, Will,” he said.

I watched Alex shuffle down the steps and then off the platform before I returned my attention to Matt.

“Time to go already?” I asked.

He found my eyes and nodded his head.

“It’s time,” he said.

“All right,” I replied, taking in a deep, anxious breath and then slowly exhaling. “Here goes everything.”

The corners of Matt’s mouth started to edge up his face.

“Go get her,” he said, as he rested his hand on my shoulder.

I found his stare one, last time, smiled and then took my first step onto the stage.

The buzz of the crowd grew louder the closer I got to the microphone. And when I reached its stand, I paused and took a second to look out over the packed field. People wrapped around the little stage and extended back about a football field’s length. I breathed in the familiar smell of aging maples and autumn air and breathed out a smile.

“How are ya doin’,
New Milford?” I shouted then. “Home, finally,” I said, throwing my head back and extending my arms to the heavens.

The crowd cheered even louder. I took another moment to take it all in. There was nothing like coming home.

...

Each song was a high on the outside, but on the inside, I was more anxious than I had ever been. Every moment, I craved her. I wanted so badly to know if she was in the crowd. I kept glancing up at Alex, but so far, there had been no wave.

I positioned my fingers on the strings of my guitar again and squared up to the microphone. It was the last song before the encore, and my heart had already begun to beat uncontrollably against the walls of my chest. Eventually, I heard the melody start, and as if it were pure instinct, the first words of the song fell off my tongue. Then, suddenly, I thought I saw a wave. I forced my lips to keep moving to the words, even as I made my way over to the other side of the stage to get a better look at Alex. I had to be sure.

It was only a few steps to the edge of the platform, but it had felt like a lifetime. I squinted my eyes, trying my best to block out the bright lights. Then, I saw him. And sure enough, there was his skinny, little arm waving in the air. I smiled wide, which caused the next words out of my mouth to come out labored. The jumbled words made me laugh a little and forced me to lose some of the following words too, but it didn’t seem to matter. The crowd only cheered louder and even seemed to join me in my laughter. I tipped my hat to Alex, then slightly turned until I could see Matt on the keys behind me. Immediately, he caught my gaze and sent me a wide smile. I knew he could tell what was going on.

The song came to an end moments later, and suddenly, the stage grew dark—our cue to exit. I hurried off the platform and to the back of the trailer.

“Well, it all comes down to this,” I heard Matt say, as he came up behind me and placed his hand on my shoulder.

I sucked in a deep breath and then quickly forced it out, as a smile found its way to my face.

“You ready?” Matt asked.

I met his stare, then slowly nodded my head.

“After you then,” he said, gesturing me out onto the stage again.

I took one, last deep breath. Then, I made my way to the microphone for the last time that night. The crowd was loud. Some people were clapping; some were cheering; and every once in a while, there was a whistle or a shout.

My walk to the center of the stage was slow and calculated. I could barely see my hands through the black that filled the stage. And if it weren’t for the little lights near the edge of the platform, I was pretty sure I woul
d have fallen flat on my face.

I eventually reached the stool sitting behind the microphone stand, which was front and center on the stage. I leaned against it and propped one leg onto
its rung. Then, I took the mic out of its stand and moved the stand over to my side. I heard Matt back on the piano pulling a bench closer to the keys. And the next thing I knew, he was giving a count. I closed my eyes and lowered my head. Then, the piano solo began moments later, and an instant hush crept over the crowd.

I anxiously twisted the mic
in my hands, as I felt the bright lights return to my face. Then, within seconds, I lifted my head and opened my eyes. The white and yellow rays blinded me, but it didn’t matter—not this time. Nothing mattered, except that she was out there. I brought the mic to my mouth, and soon, everything I had left in me—every hope, every dream, every bit of strength—came rushing past my lips:
“The sun’s a settin’ on Cedar Lake
While that autumn fog settles in
The fish aren’t bitin’
Crickets sing
Just me and an old friend
Remembering the good ol’ days
When we were just kids
Startin’ trouble, chasin’ old flames
The what-ifs, the what-might-have-beens
Until slowly the conversation dies
And I know that he knows
Cause the next thing he says
Is, buddy, don’t tell me lies,
How does the story really go?
Does she ever cross your mind?
Does she ever steal your nights?
Is she still a part of you?
Do you ever wish she were still by your side?
And what would you do?
If she walked up here tomorrow
And told you that she loved you?
Would you drop it all and run to her?
Would you tell her you love her too?
Or would you simply send her home?
And tell her you’ve moved on?
Tell me, buddy, what would you do?
Then I looked at him with two, sad eyes
And I said,
More than every once in a while,
More than most dreams,
More than just my heart,
More than anything,
More than you know,
And more than I can say,
I’ve loved her more
Every passing day
And every time I close my eyes,
She’s here with me
Her soft, green eyes,
Her hand in mine
It’s her I see
And I tell him,
I wish your dreams kept you close
Or that one led you back to me
And that I’d trade it all
For the day he didn’t have to ask me,
Tell me, buddy, what would you do?
Now, I’m tellin’ you,
Julia, My Butterfly,
More than every once in a while,
More than most dreams,
More than just my heart,
More than anything,
More than you know,
And more than I can say,
I’ve loved you more
Every passing day
Julia, I’ve loved you more
Every passing day.”