My Butterfly

by Laura Miller

  I watched her for a few more seconds. Then, someone stood up from behind the mat. It kind of looked like the guy I had just run into. He was wearing the same shorts and tee shirt, and he had that blondish, reddish hair. My eyes followed him as he walked closer to Julia. She must have been talking to him—and she was still talking to him. I felt my smile start to fade.

  I narrowed my eyes and watched as Julia stood up too. She played with her hair for a second and then positioned it on top of her head again. Her playing with her hair forced a grin back to my face.

  I watched then as she walked over to the fence nearest to her and pulled something out of it, while I nervously tapped the note in my hand with my thumb and thought about what to do next.

  Eventually, my eyes left Jules and went to the note. I stared at it for a second. Then, I forced it open and read over its words one more time:

  Jules,

  Thanks for making a night in the hospital a night I never want to forget. Not surprisingly, you’re a part of a lot of those kind of nights for me. Jules, I’m sorry I don’t always know what to say or when to say it. I’m sorry I didn’t give you what you deserved when I had the chance. But, Jules, I just want you to know that I love you with everything I am—a million times a million and to the moon and back. Forgive me, Jules, and give your life with me another chance.

  ~Will

  I finished reading the last, few words. Then, I folded the note, tightly clutched it inside my sweaty palm and looked up.

  Jules was talking to that guy again. I hesitated as my head instinctively tilted to the side.

  The guy who she had said she was dating a while ago, did she say he was on the track team? Could she still be dating him? I narrowed my eyes and focused my attention on the guy. He was smiling—at Julia. I shifted my weight to my other leg and gripped the fence in front of me. I watched as he took a step closer to Julia. My fingers clutched the fence tighter. He was still smiling, but now, he was suspiciously looking around. What was he doing? I narrowed my eyes even more, praying that it would help me to see into his plan. It didn’t work.

  My stare followed him as he took one more, quick glance around the track. And then he moved in, attacking Julia on the lips. My body stiffened, and my breaths stopped. Hit him, Jules. Hit him.

  I let go of the fence and started quickly around its perimeter toward Jules. But I only got several yards before I stopped. She didn’t look angry. In fact, she was smiling. She was acting as if him kissing her were normal, as if it were just another day or something. My heart plummeted to the ground at my feet as I squeezed the note in my hand. And suddenly, the earth started spinning. I grabbed hold of the fence again and allowed my eyelids to fall over my eyes for several moments. And when the earth had finally stopped careening and had come to a halt again, I opened my eyes. But now, I felt as if I were in some kind of weird vacuum, though it appeared as if nothing around me had changed. Everything seemed the same. Everyone looked normal—each person doing the same thing he or she had been doing before the earth had spun out of control. In fact, each figure looked as if it belonged exactly where it was. I was the one who didn’t belong. My eyes fell back onto Jules. She was laughing. I took in a deep breath and held it in my chest for as long as I could. Then, I cautiously let it slip past my lips. I was the one who didn’t belong.

  And in the next moment, I found the note again in my hand and quickly shoved it into my back pocket. Then, I turned and made a beeline for the parking lot. At the same time, I battled back the mist in my eyes, which worsened with each stride.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Haunting

  “Julia.”

  I stopped suddenly and slowly set the can of chili back onto the shelf. The voice had come from an aisle over. I rushed to the end of the row, stopped and took a quick check of myself. I looked pretty rough, but what could I do now? I took off my cap and refit it over my head again. Then, I sauntered casually into the aisle, as if I were looking hard for something. And when I couldn’t take it anymore—several seconds later—I looked up and spotted a woman and a young girl. My heart sank.

  “Hi, Will,” the woman said.

  “Ms. Evans,” I said, tipping my baseball cap.

  She smiled at me and then glanced at the girl next to her.

  “Oh, Will, I don’t think you’ve ever really met my daughter,” she said. “Sweetie, this is Will. He’s the firefighter that came to our house that one time.”

  The girl blankly eyed me. I could tell she didn’t remember me. She was only a little girl back then.

  “Will, this is my daughter, Julia,” the woman continued.

  I swallowed hard.

  “Nice to meet you,” I said.

  The girl smiled wide, though she seemed a little nervous. I watched as she tossed her hands behind her back and then tried to shove them into her pockets before finally crossing her arms in front of her. I guessed she was maybe in junior high or some age around it.

  My eyes eventually traveled back to the woman.

  “How have you been?” I asked.

  “Oh, great,” she said.

  She moved closer to me and squeezed the part of my arm near my bicep.

  “You’ve been stayin’ safe, right?” she asked.

  Her eyes seemed more like they were commanding something rather than asking it.

  I smiled and nodded.

  “Good,” she said, releasing my bicep and continuing down the aisle. “Tell your mom I said ‘hi.’”

  “I will,” I said, softly, as my eyes turned down to the white tiles on the floor.

  I took a deep breath in and then let it out before I looked up again. The girl was still there, and she flashed me another wide smile.

  I smiled back, then tipped my cap and hastily made my way down the aisle, past the registers and out the doors. I didn’t stop until I was back in my truck.

  Once I was behind the wheel, I grabbed it with both hands. I wanted to curse as loud as I could, but I didn’t. I knew enough to know that the walls had ears, as did my sixth-grade teacher putting groceries into her trunk two cars down from mine.

  I fought for my keys inside my jeans pocket, and after a brief struggle, shoved one into the ignition.

  She wasn’t just a name attached to a face—although, I was pretty sure she was never just that. But even so, now she was also a memory, the worst kind of memory—the kind that pulled you to your knees at just the sound of her name.

  I backed Lou out of the spot faster than I should have and sped out of the parking lot. And I sped all the way to my house and eventually landed in the driveway. Jeff’s truck was already there. I sighed and made my way into the house.

  “You’re out of chili,” Jeff informed me when I entered the room. “And everything else. Are you hiding all your food from me at your apartment in St. Louis?”

  He was lounging on a chair in the living room; his legs were sprawled out over its arms. I didn’t answer him. Instead, I charged straight through the house and out the back door.

  Within seconds, I reached the two, wooden lawn chairs at the edge of the lake and fell into one. Then, I immediately threw my elbows to my knees and used my hands to bury my face.

  Minutes went by, though it had felt like hours, before I heard Jeff’s voice behind me.

  “Uh, hey, man.”

  I cocked my head to the side and glanced up at him. Then, I sat back and let my eyes fall onto the lake.

  “You all right?” he asked, still hovering over me.

  I listened to him fumble around behind me and eventually find a seat in the chair next to mine. Jeff was never really good in situations like this, and I really wasn’t in the mood.

  “I, uh, looked at Lou, and I’m guessin’ ya didn’t hit a deer,” he said, sheepishly. “And I, uh, checked your refrigerator. I didn’t leave your milk out again.”

  I angled my face slightly toward his again.

  “And your dad called, so I answered it, and he just wanted me to remind you th
at you’re supposed to help him with that barbeque tomorrow at the store,” he said. “So, I figured, it didn’t have anything to do with your family.”

  There was silence for a moment as I studied him with a puzzled look plastered across my face.

  “You did all that in the little time that I was out here?” I asked.

  He shrugged his shoulders.

  I chuckled to myself and returned my eyes to the lake.

  “It’s not any of those things,” I said.

  There was a quiet pause.

  “Then what is it?” he asked, in a way that made me think he believed there couldn’t possibly be anything else that was “wrong” with me.

  I took a deep breath and then tossed it back out into the soft breeze.

  “It’s Julia,” I said and then sighed.

  He sat up in his chair.

  “What about her? You know she’s back in town, right?” he asked.

  I slowly bobbed my head.

  “I know,” I said. “I know.”

  He was quiet for a second again.

  “Oh,” he said, finally.

  His word was short and sad.

  I glanced back at him. And I couldn’t help but smile.

  “Oh what?” I asked.

  He shot me an impatient look.

  “Well, do you or do you not still have a thing for her?” he asked, staring back at me with big eyes.

  I held my own stare on him for several seconds before I picked up a flat rock, swung my arm back and then skipped the rock onto the water. It bounced several times on the lake’s surface before it eventually dived into the lake and disappeared.

  “Well, why don’t you just go tell her you still like her?” he asked.

  I looked him in the eyes.

  “Why don’t you go tell Jessica that you like her?” I asked.

  His face turned sour, and he shifted his weight in his chair.

  “It’s not easy for me like it is for you,” he said.

  I furrowed my eyebrows at him. I shouldn’t have known what he had meant by that, but because I knew Jeff, sadly I did. Everything was harder in Jeff’s world, apparently.

  I found another rock and sent it flying onto the surface of the lake.

  “Besides, the last thing I knew, she was still with that doctor,” I said.

  “Wait, he’s a doctor?” he asked.

  “He might as well be,” I said.

  “So what?” Jeff asked. “You had her first.”

  I laughed.

  “Buddy, I wish it worked that way,” I said. “Plus, if she wants one of those types, maybe she should have it. The heart wants what the heart wants, right?”

  I glanced back at Jeff. He was shaking his head, and it seemed as though he was frowning.

  “Well, maybe she’ll get bored of him,” he said.

  I laughed again.

  “Jeff, girls don’t just wake up one day and say, ‘You know what? I’m tired of all these nice things and smart people. I want to go live in a one-horse town with a guy who leaves her with guys like you every time his belt starts singin’.’”

  I eyed Jeff. He only shrugged his shoulders, so I kept going.

  “‘And you know what? I’ve suddenly discovered that I love the smell of ashes. Instead of nice cologne, I want a guy who comes home every night smellin’ like ashes,’” I said.

  Jeff was making his you-got-a-point face by the time I had finished.

  I sighed and skipped another rock across the lake.

  “But she’s not just any girl, Will,” Jeff said, sheepishly.

  I turned in my chair and looked back at him, and suddenly, I felt a smile fighting its way to my face.

  “You know, you’re not always very good at giving advice,” I admitted to him, patting his knee. “But every once in a while, you are.”

  He gave me a proud, goofy smile, and I sat back in my chair and locked my gaze onto the water.

  “You’re right, Jeff,” I said, smiling. “She’s not just any girl.”

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Promise

  “Will.”

  I turned in my chair and caught a thin blonde standing a lawn away from me on my porch. She looked like an angel, and instantly, a smile crept to my lips as I thought about Jeff’s words from a week ago: She’s not just any girl.

  “Hey,” I said in a surprised voice as I set my fishing pole onto the ground as quickly as I could get it there.

  My heart had sped up by a couple of beats per minute, but I managed to make my way over to her in record time.

  “Your aunt said you would be here this weekend,” Jules said.

  I reached her and wrapped my arms around her little body. There was a big part of me that couldn’t believe that she was standing on my porch. And I still didn’t know why she was there, but it didn’t matter. She was there.

  I tightly squeezed her, and after a long moment, I pulled my body away from hers and smiled. I was pretty sure that I had that wide, stupid smile I got sometimes—mostly when she was around—planted on my face.

  “Well, here I am. Pull up a chair,” I happily said, gesturing down the wooden porch steps and toward the lake.

  She walked with me to the water’s edge, and I watched as she fell into the chair next to mine.

  “Are they biting?” she asked, pulling her knees up to her chest.

  I met her eyes and smiled, then grabbed my fishing pole again.

  “A little, but I haven’t caught any yet,” I said, falling into the wooden chair. “I heard you were back in town. For how long?”

  She seemed to hesitate before she spoke.

  “A month,” she softly said. “I’m substituting up at the school.”

  I let her answer sink in. Then, I nodded my head. I knew I had asked the question; I guessed I had just hoped the answer would have been a longer period of time, maybe even forever.

  “I don’t mind it actually,” she continued. “I kind of like it. It gives me something to do for now.”

  “The substituting?” I asked, now somewhat distracted by the thought of her leaving again.

  “Mm hmm,” she said, nodding her head.

  “I see,” I said. “Then where are you going?”

  I kind of dreaded that answer too.

  “California,” she said.

  I choked on my own breath.

  “California?” I blurted out. “What for?”

  She gently smiled.

  “School,” she said.

  I watched as she paused and fiddled with the zipper on her jacket for a second.

  “Law,” she continued.

  “Law,” I simply repeated, as I nodded my head and forced a smile. “Well, that’s your dream.”

  Silence crept into the conversation, but I squashed it within seconds.

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

  I watched her toss her head back and laugh. I had forgotten how much I missed her laugh.

  “It’s warm though,” she said, with a grin.

  I paused for a second, lowered my head and then met her eyes again.

  “So, you’re telling me that if I find a way to get rid of the winter here, you’ll stay closer for once?” I asked.

  I felt one side of my mouth lifting into a grin.

  “I’ll stay forever,” she said, laughing.

  “What about palm trees?” I asked.

  She smiled and shook her head.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think so,” I said, still grinning.

  We grew silent then, as we both stared off into the lake. I tapped my fishing pole a couple of times against a cattail and watched the bobber bounce on the surface of the water. And for the first time, I noticed the air smelled like old maple trees and the last cut of hay. I tugged at the pole some, then spotted some butterfly weeds off in the distance on the other side of the lake and remembered what the chief had told me.<
br />
  “Happiness is like a butterfly, you know?” I mumbled to myself.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her face turn toward mine.

  “What?” she asked.

  I shifted in my chair, then met her gaze.

  “Happiness is like a butterfly,” I said again. “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 softly on your shoulder.”

  “It’s Thoreau,” I added.

  She held her stare on me for a little longer. Then, she returned her gaze to the lake.

  “Hmm,” she said, in what seemed like reflection, as she slowly nodded her head.

  “So, how have you been? What have you been up to these days?” she asked moments later.

  I shifted restlessly in my chair.

  “Working, golfing, fishing,” I quickly rattled off.

  I was trying not to sound frustrated, but deep down, I knew I had already lost that battle.

  “You’re looking at it,” I added, just for good measure.

  “How’s living in St. Louis? I heard you got an apartment. Do you like it?” she asked, seemingly unfazed by my detached state.

  “It’s fine,” I said. “It’s all fine. Are you seeing anyone?”

  I kept my eyes on the water. I was afraid of this answer even though I already knew it.

  “I am,” she said. “I’m still seeing Brady.”

  I mumbled what could have almost been a word under my breath. She didn’t seem to notice.

  “What about you?” she asked.

  “What about me?”

  “Well, how’s Miss New Year’s Eve?” she asked.