Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

I could feel Will’s hand caressing the strands of my long, blond hair now and laying each piece gently back down onto my shoulder.

“I love you, Jules,” he said softly.

His words sounded like a love song in themselves — one that I had never heard before tonight. My heart raced, and little jolts of excited energy shot through my body faster than little squirrels upon realizing winter would come early and they hadn’t gathered any nuts.

I followed the path of his words to his lips and then met his eyes. I watched for a second as the red and white lights danced against the background of his blue irises.

“I love you too,” I whispered back.

Then, I returned my head to his chest, listening to every heartbeat, as he squeezed me closer to his side, and I watched the lights dance in the night’s sky — fully content with my happy, little, grass-globe world, caboose and all — praying those lights would dance forever.

Iplopped down onto the plush, beige chair in the living room of Will’s basement. Will lay sprawled out lengthwise on a worn-in, auburn couch. The familiar video game controllers and cords, left abandoned, stretched across the cream-colored carpet in front of the entertainment center, and small, overstuffed pillows and colorful throws representing several different sports teams littered the chair and the couch that Will lay on.

“What are you up to?” I asked him as I made myself comfortable in the soft chair next to the couch.

Will remained quiet just long enough for me to sense that something was wrong, though I waited for him to speak first as I racked my brain trying to figure out what that something was.

“You didn’t tell me that you were going away,” Will finally said, accusingly.

“Away? What do you mean?” I asked. I had a slight smirk on my face. Away seemed so vague. It almost sounded criminal — or worse.

“I know you applied to Missouri,” he charged.

“And?” I punched back, though I knew I would have more explaining to do later. I knew he would never settle for that answer.

“It’s hours away, Julia,” Will said sternly, solemnly. “There’s several good schools right down the road.”

I paused for a moment, mostly to hold back my disdain for his disdain.

“Will, they’re hardly just down the road,” I protested. “And Missouri’s a good school for me, you know that.”

Will remained silent and used the remote to flip through the television channels rhythmically. I watched him continuously press the channel button, not even bothering to see what was on each one, while he stared expressionlessly into the TV’s screen.

I moved over to the couch and took a seat on the piece of plush surface near Will’s stomach that had not been taken up by the tall, muscular figure. I swiveled around so that I faced him and then gently took the remote from his hand, muted the TV and set the channel changer down onto the surface of the coffee table.

Taking away his distractive device was easy. Getting his full attention proved harder. His stare remained plastered to the screen.

“I didn’t tell you because I’m not even sure that I’ll even get in and because I wanted to avoid this,” I said, opening up my hand and pointing it face up toward him.

It wasn’t the real reason, and I knew I should have told him, but he, now, had given me a temporary leg on which to stand, so I stood my ground. Who was he to say where I could go to school?

“Avoid what? Me being a part of your life?” Will asked sternly. “Don’t I get a say in anything? Does it matter where I want you to go?”

Confused by his line of questioning, I paused to evaluate the conversation and to manage the mercury in my anger thermometer, which by now, was rising quickly to boiling , before continuing.

“Will, I’m sorry that I didn’t tell you, but at the same time, I should not have to ask you where I can and cannot apply to schools,” I protested.

There was a slight pause.

“Well, if you’re going to leave anyway, then what’s the point of us staying together? We should just end it now,” Will said coldly, still glaring into the muted television screen.

His cold words struck me hard and right to the heart. Sure, we had argued before — mostly about silly, little things like what time certain stores closed or how long it took to get to some places or what the real words were to certain songs, but this was different. I had never heard him hint at giving up on us before, and I had never heard words so cold come from the same lips that made me feel so loved.

“Will, you don’t mean that,” I demanded softly, growing more and more irritated with him.

I watched his eyes as they followed the figures dancing on the television set.

“Will,” I said concernedly, demanding his attention.

His eyes made no movement toward mine. Furious, I grabbed my keys from the coffee table and made my way to the basement exit. I had nothing left to say, and even if I had, he was too stubborn right now to listen anyway.

When I reached the brass knob of the wooden storm door, I took one, last glance back at him. His eyes were still planted on the television’s screen. I let out an angry sigh then, just before I pushed open the door and marched outside, letting the wooden entrance swing shut behind me.

Outside, the night sky had already blanketed the world, making everything pitch black, and the contrast between the bright, living room inside and the darkness outside at first shocked me, but in the end, did little to slow me down. Despite being blinded for several seconds while my eyes adjusted, I kept moving. I was livid by now, but there was still that crazy-person part of me that wanted him to follow after me. I wanted him to say he was sorry and hold me and make everything all better again, which I knew he had the power to do.

My heart stabbed at my chest when I reached my jeep, only to glance behind my shoulder and find that he wasn’t there.

“Forget it,” I whispered angrily under my breath.

I lifted the door handle, jumped into my jeep, swung my seat belt across my chest, heard it click and felt blindly for the key on my key chain that would start the ignition. In the dark, my fingers shifted from one metal object to the next, feeling for the largest one with the rubber coating on top. While brazing over each item, I came to a strange, long piece of metal with what felt like a tiny hook at the end. When seconds went by and I could not so much as conjure up an image in my mind of what the object could be, I felt for the dome light above my head and switched it on.

“My luck,” I whispered again as I gripped the steering wheel with both hands and laid my head against its rounded top, letting out an irritated sigh.

It had been a golf club attached to his set of keys — not mine.

Moments of dead silence allowed the argument to begin replaying in my mind again. He had been so selfish, so thoughtless. I hated his cold, cruel words, but they, at the same time, seemed so insincere. In fact, he almost looked scared. Could he have been just as terrified of me leaving as I was at the thought of leaving him? His words stung, but I knew that he had not meant them — could not have meant them.

Lost in my own meandering contemplations, I suddenly heard the front door of the house open, which forced my eyes to follow the sound.

Soon after, an outside light flickered on, and then I could see, standing in the doorway to the beige-siding house, Will, with a slight smile in his expression that had been absent just moments before, holding up my set of keys.

I tried to hold back my own smile as he sauntered toward me, his eyes seductively piercing me. He had made me angry. I had to show him that.