Лаура Миллер - My Butterfly

A disbelieving laugh fell off my lips next.

“She was right. Nothing ever leaves the rafters,” I said to myself.

I swiveled around on my heels and spotted the ladder first. It was clearly not tall enough to get me directly to the ball, but if I stood on it and used one of the other balls lying on the stage, I just might be able to knock it down.

I rushed over to the stepladder, picked it up and carried it down another four steps to the other side of the stage. Then, I positioned it slightly under the ball imprisoned high in the ceiling and then ran back and grabbed two, rubber balls.

Once I reached the stepladder again, I carefully climbed up its wooden planks. The old ladder had definitely seen some better days. I got about three quarters of the way up, waited for it to stop swaying, and then I balanced my weight against its frame. Next, I took the first rubber ball, arched it back and sent it flying into the air toward the volleyball. It hit the ball but then fell right beside it, and in the end, only helped to wedge the volleyball even tighter into the rafter. I took the second rubber ball then, arched it back and then sent it into the air as well. It hit the volleyball and knocked it so that the volleyball was now balancing on both the beam of the rafter and the other ball. I waited for the second rubber ball to come tumbling back down to the floor. Then, I carefully scurried down the ladder and over to where it had rolled into a dark spot under the bleachers. My hand felt for the ball under the wooden seats, then quickly recovered it. And before I knew it, I was hurrying back to the ladder again. Then, one more arch and a launch later and the rubber ball and the volleyball were both plummeting back down to the hard gym floor.

“Yes,” I yelled, pumping my fist into the air.

The ladder rocked, and I quickly grabbed each side to steady it again. Then, I watched the volleyball roll to the opposite side of the gym before I flew down the ladder.

Once my feet hit the floor again, I jogged over to the volleyball and scooped it up. Sure enough, her name and number were still tattooed to the ball. I ran my fingers over the letters in her name.

“You lasted some years up there, ball,” I said, smiling to myself. “Don’t worry, though, we’re gonna finally get you home.”

I put my arms through my grandpa’s old military jacket. His name and division were still etched on the tag inside. I had worn the jacket for every gig and show that I could tolerate its extra warmth under the bright lights. It made me feel as though I had a piece of him and a piece of home too, I guessed, everywhere I went.

I adjusted the jacket over my shoulders and arms while I stood in front of the tall mirror. The dressing room was nicer than any hotel I had ever stayed in. I was alone but only because Daniel, Matt and Chris were in the other room making a big stink about the food they had left us.

I started to fix the collar of my jacket but then stopped when I noticed the scar on my wrist. It had become a constant reminder of the night I had broken it. But what was funny about it was that I didn’t remember the fire or the fall or the trip to the emergency room anymore. Now, the only thing I remembered was waking up next to Julia in that little hospital bed. The scar had become something of a little souvenir of sorts from our last night together.

I felt my lips start to slowly turn up as my mind got stuck on Jules. I was pretty sure she didn’t know about the crazy events that had led up to this moment, unless Rachel had told her. And I guessed Rachel hadn’t because this seemed as if it would have been something Jules might have went out of her way to mention — unless she really had forgotten about us, like Rachel always joked she had.

I looked at my reflection again in the mirror and took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I let a moment pass before I opened my eyes again. I would look for her out there — just like I had every time I had stepped onto a stage. Though, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t see her. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a small pin from its inside pocket. It was a guardian angel, her guardian angel. I ran my fingers over its metal surface. She promised she would come back someday, and I believed her.

“Hey, Will,” Matt said, as he poked his head into the room.

I turned and faced him.

“They’re calling us up,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll be right there.”

I turned around again and glanced one more time into the mirror and then at the angel in between my fingers.

“I feel like I can’t get to you fast enough,” I whispered under my breath.

Then, I slid the pin back into my pocket and pressed it against my heart.

“Good morning, New York City,” I yelled into the microphone.

Just then, a roar of screams echoed off the tall buildings that surrounded us. It was loud — louder than I had expected. And there was a row of people pressed up against the stage below us — girls, guys, kids.

I looked back at Chris and smiled.

He nodded his head once and smiled back.

“This is our first time in New York City,” I yelled into the microphone again.

The crowd screamed louder.

It seemed as if every time I said the words New York City, the volume of the place increased ten times. I waited for the cheers to die down a little, and then I continued.

“We’re just some small-town, Missouri firefighters who decided one day to start a little band, and we’re happy you invited us into your little town,” I finished.

I smiled then and lowered the mic as the crowd seemed to erupt. And within seconds, Matt started a count, and a melody came pouring through the speakers surrounding us. I readjusted the strap across my chest; my guitar was slung behind me. Then, I casually touched my heart, feeling for my guardian angel, before I gripped the mic with both hands and brought it to my mouth. And just before my first words pushed past my lips and out into the crowd, I thought about her.

I had just gotten the last of the cords wound up and off the stage, and Daniel and Chris were taking what was left of the equipment to the truck. Matt had already taken off. His cousin was getting married in Springfield the next day, and he was driving through the night.

I stuffed the final cord into a plastic container and hoisted the container up into my arms when I heard my name. The voice was soft and kind of timid.

I turned, and through the dark with only glimpses of red and white stage lights, I made out a girl.

“Jessica,” I said.

I watched her shy face grow a smile.

“You’re back in Missouri,” she said.

I lowered my eyes as I felt a smile creeping to my face. It felt good to be home.

“Yeah, we got back earlier this week,” I said.

“Well, I was in the area, and I saw that you were playing, and I just thought I would stop by,” she said.

Just then, Daniel came in through the back door and stopped in between us. He looked at me and then at Jessica and then back at me again.

“Uh, I think we’ve got everything loaded,” he said. “Is this the last one?”

His eyes were planted on the plastic container still in my arms.

“Uh, yeah,” I said.

He grabbed the container.

“We’re going to go ahead and take off,” he said, looking back at Jessica and then at me. “You’ve got your car, right?”

“What?” I asked.

“Your car — to get home,” he said.

Daniel flashed me a cheesy grin.

“Oh, yeah,” I said, nodding my head.

“Okay, I’ll see you tomorrow then,” he said.

Then, he bobbed his head at me, smiled at Jessica and then hurried again toward the back door.

My eyes followed him until he disappeared.

“You guys are really good,” Jessica said.

I met Jessica’s gaze again.

“Thanks,” I said, smiling and tossing my eyes to the floor.

There was silence between us for a moment.

“Look, I know this place is closing, but I saw a diner at the end of the street,” she said. “Maybe we could catch up.”

I looked up and caught her soft stare.

“Uh, sure,” I said, nodding my head.

For some reason, I felt strangely awkward around her all of a sudden. She didn’t seem to be with Jeff. I wasn’t used to her showing up without him.

“Okay, well, let’s go this way,” I said, eyeing the back door.

She smiled and then walked toward the exit. I followed after her but then reached out and pulled the door open for her.

“So, this is how you avoid all of your adoring fans,” she exclaimed.

A coy smile was planted on her face.

I laughed.

“Of course, didn’t you see the ten people that were in there?” I asked. “It would have taken us at least two, whole minutes to get to the front door.”

Jessica’s smile widened. She seemed confident again — a little closer to how I had remembered her from that New Year’s Eve night years ago.

“You are crazy,” she said. “Will, I don’t know what you could see from where you were standing, but from where I was standing, the place was packed, and they were all loving it.”

My eyes darted to the ground again, as we rounded the outside of the bar and made our way to the sidewalk in front of it.

“So, what brought you to this side of town tonight?” I asked her.