Лаура Миллер - My Butterfly

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 would 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:

I sang the last line and then let my eyes fall to the wood under my feet. The piano grew silent soon after, and the lights faded again. I listened through the quiet for a moment. Then, suddenly, the crowd’s cheers returned, and they were the loudest they had been all night.

After several moments, I lifted my head, and out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Alex near the back of the crowd, waving his skinny, little arm again. I narrowed my eyes. There were spots still floating around everywhere. But I could see him just enough to notice that he was dramatically lifting and lowering his arm, and he was pointing. I stood up. It looked as if he was pointing toward the parking lot.

“Jules,” I whispered to myself.

In no more than a second, I was off the stool and darting toward the side of the stage.

“Will, where are you going?” Matt asked, grabbing my arm and stopping me fast.

“She’s leaving,” I said.

He loosened his grip on my arm, and I took off again.

“I’ll be back,” I shouted over my shoulder.

I made it to Lou behind the stage, jumped behind the wheel and turned the key. There was a second way out of the field. It was the same way we had gotten the trailer in. I flipped on my brights and stepped on the gas.

After a rough and fast hundred yards, my wheels hit the blacktop, just as a car was pulling out of the parking lot. I sped and caught up to it. Its license plates were from Tennessee. So, unless someone else had come across the state boarder to see this concert, it was a rental, and it was her. I quit tailing her and fell back. There were two places she could be going. She was either on her way back to her new job and her new life in South Carolina or she was going home — either way, I’d follow her.

The sedan slowed when it reached a highway that led out of town. I tapped my brakes and watched as the car turned and hit the blacktop. Then, I knew for sure; it was Jules, and she was going home.

I slowed up and fell farther behind her. I didn’t want to scare her. And through bends and turns in the path, I stayed just close enough that I could see her as she made her way down the highway and then onto the winding gravel road.

Eventually, she made the last turn before her parents’ house. I watched the sedan kick up a dust trail as it neared the white-graveled drive, and I waited for it to slow down and turn, but it never did. Instead, the car stayed on a straight path.

My foot slowly fell off the gas pedal and hit the brake, causing Lou to come to a stop. Then, I sat back in my seat and let my head fall against the headrest. Moments later, a big smile edged its way across my face, and I glanced out the window and up into the heavens.

“Gonna see some stars tonight, Jules?” I asked out loud.

Then, I set my eyes onto the gravel road again and stepped on the gas.

“It’s a good night for it,” I said to myself, smiling a wide, happy grin.

I made my way across the creek slab and pulled off to the side of the road. There was a black sedan already waiting there. I smiled, reached into my backseat and then climbed out of the truck.

It was dark, but there was still a piece of the moon in the sky, so I could make out her silhouette on the hood of the sedan. She was sitting up, and her face was turned back toward me.

“Hi, Jules,” I said.

She seemed to hesitate before she spoke.

“Hi,” she eventually said.

Her voice was cheerful. She didn’t seem surprised. It made me smile wider, as I walked toward her.

“Mind if I take a seat?” I asked, when I reached the car.

“Not at all; it’s a rental,” she said, patting a spot next to her on the hood.

I nodded my head and chuckled to myself.

“Aah,” I said.

My eyes traveled from her hand to the color in her eyes. Then, I cautiously climbed onto the car’s hood, leaned my back against the windshield and made myself comfortable, all the while, trying my best to conceal the object in my hand.

“Did you know I was here?” she asked.

There was a suspicious air attached to her question. I was quiet for a second but then turned my face toward hers.

“Of course. Where else would you be?” I asked.

I watched her pause in what looked as if it was a thought.

“But how? I never…,” she started.

“Oh, you want to know how I knew you came at all?” I asked.

“That would be a start,” she said, shooting me a coy smile.

“You promised,” I said.

“Wait, you remembered that?” she asked.

“Of course, and from the looks of it, you did too,” I said, gently elbowing her arm.

“A promise is a promise,” she said so softly I almost didn’t hear it.

There was silence for a second then — that perfect kind of silence, when it almost had a hum of its own.

“But seriously, how could you have known?” she asked.

I paused and met her eyes again. She looked puzzled. I missed that puzzled face of hers. I missed all of her faces.

“Did you see the camera guy scanning the crowd?” I asked.

“Umm…yeah, I guess I might have noticed him,” she said, slowing shaking her head.

“Before the show, I gave him a photo and asked him to look for you,” I said.

“You didn’t?” she demanded.

“I did,” I said. “And turns out, he’s got a good eye.”

I gave her a wink, shrugged my shoulders and then sent a wide grin up into the heavens.