Лаура Миллер - My Butterfly

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.

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.