Лаура Миллер - My Butterfly

My hands left the pages and found a spot to rest on her arms, and I reached up and kissed her.

“Oh, just filling out forms for the fire department,” I said. “Even if you’re a volunteer, it requires an autobiography, evidently.”

I heard her take a deep breath as she pushed off of my shoulders.

“Can I have some water?” she asked.

I turned in my chair and watched her make her way into the kitchen and pull out a glass from the cabinet. She filled the glass with water from the faucet and took a drink. I smiled at her when her eyes finally met mine again, but her lips only slightly turned up.

“What’s wrong, Jules?” I asked.

She took another deep breath, then set the glass down onto the counter and walked back over to me. My eyes followed her as she fell into the chair next to mine and began to study my face.

“You really want to be a firefighter?” she asked.

Her question made me pause. Yesterday, when I had told her that I had driven by the fire station and the thought had just sort of overtaken me, she seemed happy for me.

“Yeah,” I said. “I mean, I can’t believe I hadn’t thought about it before. At least, then I could have gotten Counselor Old Fart off my back a lot sooner.”

She seemed to be tracing the lines in my eyes, until she eventually nodded her head.

“It’s just so…,” she started.

I furrowed my brows and tilted my head.

“So?” I asked.

I watched as she took another deep breath.

“So what, Jules?” I asked again. “You seemed fine with it yesterday.”

“I know,” she said. “It’s just so dangerous, you know?”

My eyes settled on hers, and I started to smile.

“Jules, it’s not that dangerous,” I said. “And, you know, it’s me. Jules, you know I’m not the type of guy who can sit in an office all day. Hell, I can hardly sit through a class.”

A soft, guarded laugh fell from her lips, but then her smile went limp again.

“It’s just…,” she started and then stopped.

My eyes stayed on her expression, even though I couldn’t read even the slightest part of it. Her eyes, on the other hand, were turned down toward the floor. Then, it finally dawned on me. I sat back in my chair and took a deep breath.

“It’s just that future lawyers who are future presidents don’t date future firefighters,” I said, crossing my arms.

I felt my expression turning cold, as her eyes quickly shot up at me, and her sad stare seemed to grow annoyed.

“That’s what it really is, isn’t it?” I asked in a firm tone.

She was quiet.

I knew it. I should have known. If I could be a lawyer or a doctor, maybe I would, maybe I wouldn’t. But I knew how the world worked even so, and I should have known that girls with ambitions like Julia Lang didn’t stick around long with guys like me.

I watched as her eyes narrowed into little, cat-like slits.

“What are you talking about?” she asked.

“Just say it, Jules,” I said. “You want a doctor or a lawyer or some senator or someone who’s smart enough to cure cancer and who makes six figures and who can take you to fancy parties and buy you everything you want.”

I paused for a second and swallowed hard before continuing.

“Well, that’s just not gonna happen with me, Jules,” I said. “That’s not in my stars. I’m just a small-town, country boy, and that’s all I’ll ever be.”

Then, I pushed up fast from my chair. Its wooden legs scooted across the floor hard and made a loud, unpleasant sound. Her eyes were still narrowed on me and were now piercing my thick skin. I kept my own eyes on her for a second longer, and then I darted toward the back door and pushed hard through it.

My feet hit the wooden porch boards, and I stopped and ran my fingers through my messy hair as I took a deep breath. The air was cold and merciless. It stung my throat and lungs, but after a second, I forced the breath back out and watched its fog leave a trail from my lips and eventually disappear. Then, I walked over to the railing, doubled over it and cupped my face in my hands.

I couldn’t even remember a time that I didn’t want this girl. How could I, in all that time, never have thought that I wasn’t the one who she would want?

I brought my fingers to my lips and took another deep, cool breath, and suddenly, I felt a hand on my shoulder.

I stood up fast, turned and squared up to Julia.

“It’s not that,” she whispered.

I searched her expression — her eyes and her lips. Nothing I found on her was angry. It all seemed sad, and suddenly, I felt like a jerk.

“I’m so sorry, Jules,” I said.

I nudged her arms, willing her closer to me. She hesitated but then gave in and fell into my chest.

“Say that you forgive me,” I whispered low and near her ear.

She felt so small in my arms.

“Forgive me, Jules,” I said.

I squeezed her tighter, then pulled away and lowered my face to hers and rested a hand gently against each side of her face.

“Say that you forgive me,” I said to her again, bringing my forehead to rest on hers.

I watched as her mouth tried to turn up a little.

“I forgive you,” she whispered.

Her words made me smile, and instantly, I pressed my lips passionately against hers. The first thought of losing her was the most terrifying thought I had ever had. And her words had saved me from it.

When our kiss broke, I caught her gaze in mine.

“It’s not that, Will,” she said in a soft voice.

I nodded and brought her head to my chest again.

“I know,” I softly said. “I know.”

I pulled her closer to me and caressed the strands of her long hair.

Honestly, I didn’t know if I fully believed her, but I also didn’t know if I blamed her either. She deserved those things I would never be able to give her. She deserved those things, but there was also a little part of me that believed that maybe, just maybe, what I couldn’t give her in riches, I could make up for in love.

“What about this one?”

I twisted the features on my face and shook my head.

Jeff gave the flower a sideways glare and then tossed it back into its bin.

“Well, what do they look like again?” he asked.

“You know, they’re those flowers on the side of the road,” I said. “My grandma always called them butterfly weeds.”

He stared at me blankly.

“The ones the butterflies are always hovering around in my grandma’s backyard,” I said.

His stupid face didn’t change.

“They’re orange, little flowers,” I said. “Just look for orange flowers.”

The corners of his mouth turned down and his eyebrows made a crease in the center of his forehead.

“Orange. Got it,” he said and scurried off.

I shook my head and went back to rummaging through the bins of flowers. Who knew that there were so many different kinds? I browsed over blues and yellows and reds before I finally found the section that was mostly orange. My eyes traveled over each flower, looking for the perfect match, until finally, there it was.

“Found it,” I called out to Jeff.

Jeff didn’t answer. I snatched up the flower and examined it some more. It was a perfect match. I moseyed out of the aisle lined with every flower you could imagine and eventually found myself in the front of the dime store again. I glanced around for Jeff and quickly spotted him leaning against a tall display full of those big, birthday balloons. His elbows were propped up on the counter, and it looked as if he was talking to someone behind it. I wondered for a second why I had even brought him. Then, I quickly remembered that places like this scared the hell out of me.

“Jeff, could use some help,” I said, coming up behind him.

It took him a second, but he eventually half-turned toward me, revealing a young girl behind the counter. The girl’s eyes caught mine, and she smiled.

“Nice flowers,” she said.

My eyes darted down toward my hand that was tightly gripping the orange bouquet. I felt my cheeks grow hot. I really just wanted to get out of the store.

“What do you need now?” Jeff asked in a way that sounded as if I were inconveniencing him.

“Uh, could you tell me where I would find some string?” I asked the girl.

The girl giggled.

“You probably want ribbon,” she said, smiling wide.

The corners of my mouth nervously turned up.

“Here, I’ll show you where it is,” she said.

The girl stepped down from behind the counter and made her way to the other side of the store. I felt a jab at my bicep and looked up to see Jeff’s dumb, smiling face.

“She’s cute, huh?” he asked, under his breath.

I impatiently glared at him and then followed after the girl.

“Okay,” she said, stopping in an aisle full of string in all different colors “What kind do you need?”

My eyes fell back on the flowers still gripped tightly in my hand, and suddenly, I felt her fingers on my forearm.

“Do you need it for these flowers?” she asked.

Her voice wasn’t sarcastic anymore. Now, it was more soft and almost teacher-like.

I nodded my head.

“Yeah,” I said.

I noticed Jeff out of the corner of my eye. He was scowling at my forearm.

“They’re for his girlfriend,” Jeff blurted out.

Both the girl’s and my attention turned to Jeff, propped up against a display of string.

“Well, I’ll help find you something pretty then,” she said, warmly smiling at me again.

She left me then and hurried over to a row of white string.

“I saw her first,” Jeff whispered, charging toward me.

“What?” I asked.

“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.