Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

“That’s great, Honey. I’m really happy for you,” I said, not being completely truthful. Though, I forced the corners of my mouth to turn up even so.

He smiled back at me as he turned to go.

“Wait,” I said, stopping him. “Does this mean you get to wear those sexy firemen outfits?” I asked in a hushed tone, half teasing, half serious, trying not to show him my hesitations.

Will looked at me, still smiling, not completely surprised by my comment. Then, he nodded his head slowly in confirmation, while raising one eyebrow.

“Then, you’ve definitely got my vote,” I said, smiling wider.

“Good, well I’m gonna be late. Don’t let Mr. Bones over here sweet talk ya too much,” he said, elbowing the life-size, plastic skeleton.

And then, he was gone.

My stare slowly faded from the doorway then and landed on a spot near the skeleton’s ribs. Thoughts cascaded through my head — lots of thoughts, from all directions.

His news left a bitter-sweet taste in my mouth. Firefighters were heroes — I knew this. Everyone knew that. But at the same time, there were always costs. Costs I didn’t even want to imagine.

My smile was fading when I noticed that I was still staring at Mr. Bones. I quickly turned my gaze down before anyone could misjudge my meandering thoughts for an odd obsession with the plastic figure.

Couldn’t he have decided to be an accountant or a banker or a teacher or something safe like that — anything but a firefighter? Didn’t he know how dangerous the job was or what it all entailed?

And sure, I was thrilled that he had found something he was passionate enough about to pursue as a career. He had fought the questions and pressures of classmates, teachers and the school’s counselor about choosing a livelihood for so long now. It must have meant the world to him to have finally found his calling — his heart’s desire. And he would be great at it. There was no doubt in my mind about that. He had always had that kind of connection with the community. Of course, camp counselor and little league umpire would never prove to be quite as dangerous, one would hope.

And what about college? I had always marveled at its intriguing nature — a new place, new faces, new experiences and most of all, independence. But then again, Will had never really bought into the whole college scene’s allure either, I guess. He hadn’t ever been too interested in anything new at all really. And when it came down to it, I guess, his choice was, after all, honorable and courageous, even if he didn’t see it that way, and despite my own reservations, it wasn’t, after all, my choice to make. And he had already planted his heart and had made up his mind, and there would be no changing it. I knew this much. Beyond that, he had been smiling — that little, goofy smile of his when he thinks all the world is right. That’s what really mattered in the end.

I shuffled to a chair behind the lab table and fell into it.

He had been smiling, and now I was smiling again too thinking about him and his decision and my decision to support him — reservations or no reservations — because in the end, I knew that our lives were about to change. And I had already promised myself that I would spend the next several months bottling his smiles for safe keeping — for a time when they wouldn’t be an arm’s length away.

By Thursday morning, I had my worn-in, ebony jeep packed with the essentials — clothes, TV and CD player — and I was just about ready to set out on my new adventure when something in the distance caught my attention. While searching for an available space to stuff the last of my treasured possessions, I heard a car treading over gravel on the county road just up the hill. The sound caused me to look up from the dusty floorboard.

Through the leafy oak trees that lined the rock-covered path, I could see a red SUV kicking up sand-colored dust and gravel as it hurriedly made its way to the edge of my driveway. As a wave of excitement jetted through my body, I quickly found a tiny crevasse on the jeep’s floor and squeezed the final duffle bag into the last existing available space inside the vehicle. Then, I brushed the strands of my hair that had fallen into my eyes away with the back of my hand and waited anxiously.

The SUV came to rest behind my jeep moments later, and the boy in black, basketball shorts, a cut-off, red tee shirt and red and white tennis shoes stepped out and stood rigidly in front of me. His tee shirt made it possible for me to see his tan muscles protruding from his biceps, and I couldn’t help myself from noticing that his calf muscles, left exposed where his basketball shorts stopped, were just as defined. I wondered for a second if he had planned his outfit especially for today, yet quickly tossed the idea out. Will didn’t plan, and besides, this was his usual attire. Maybe I was just now realizing how much I was going to miss it, miss him.

Today, he also wore his favorite hat bearing a popular brand of golf clubs across the face of the cap’s crown. I always thought the cap gave him a certain ruddy and handsome look that was completely irresistible. Today, as always, and even after three years, butterflies danced in my stomach as I watched his still figure watch me.

“You all packed?” he asked finally, through a half-smile.

“I think so,” I said, taking a glance inside the jeep.

Will watched as I then took two tries to close the passenger’s side door, leaning against it with all of my might.

“I told you you’d get in,” he said softly.

I paused and smiled up at him.

“Well, we can’t all make it into the fire academy,” I said.

Will’s eyes fell toward the dusty ground at his feet, and his cheeks turned a slight reddish color.

“I brought you something so you remember to remember me,” he said playfully, though slightly somber.

He stood stiffly in front of his driver’s side door, still facing me.

I gave him a gentle smile that froze into a half-smile as I spotted the sadness in his deep, azure eyes. My heart leapt out of my chest for him as I slowly made my way toward his motionless body. I never took my eyes off of his as I neared his figure, and when I was close enough to touch him, I swung my arms around his neck, brought his face down to mine and pressed my nose against his.

“How could I forget about you?” I asked rhetorically. “If I forget about you, I’ve lost three of the happiest years of my life.”

His lips gradually formed a smile, while his eyes lingered in mine for a long second. Then, he pulled away and reached inside his open window, grabbed an object from his passenger’s seat and slid it in between our embrace.

I slowly pulled away from his warm body when I noticed the bright, orange-petal flower resting in his hand. I smiled affectionately and reached out for the flower’s emerald stem, marveling at its beauty and the love that I knew was held within its petals.

“It’s a butterfly weed,” he said softly, releasing the flower into my hands.

My stare was on the flowers.

“It’s pretty for a weed. I’ve seen it before?” I asked.

“Yeah, along roads and in fields, pretty much everywhere around here. They keep cuttin’ ‘em down, but they always grow back. They never give up,” he added softly but confidently.

I stared into the flower’s bright center. I was smiling again.

He then kissed the part of my forehead where my hairline began as I happily examined my new bouquet and took in his words.

I could see now and even feel that the bloom’s willowy stem wasn’t soft or textured or even alive, but instead was mere plastic and its petals, silk. Will had given me plenty of flowers in the past — I admit that he had spoiled me. But none had been like this one.