Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

As I stood quietly, tracing the flower’s design and pondering his flower selection, I glimpsed a small, hand-written note attached to the flower’s stem by a fine, white ribbon. I gently grasped the note in one hand and allowed my eyes to float over its hand-written words:

I’ll love you until the last petal falls, Jules.

My heart instantly melted, and I immediately wrapped my arms around his neck again and kissed his lips. He was successfully chipping away at my brave, outer shell that I had miraculously crafted and had hidden behind throughout this whole leaving process. It had been the first time that I had seen him truly beside himself. The loneliness in his eyes made it seem as if he had already begun to miss me. I wanted to heal his abandoned expression. I was excited to start this new life, but now, all I wanted to do was hold him forever in my arms and never let him go.

“Do you know why they never give up?” Will asked me softly. He was looking down at the sandy-colored dust surrounding his restless feet.

I shook my head.

“No,” I whispered.

Will paused for a moment and then met my eyes again.

“Because they want the butterflies to come back to them. They need each other to survive,” he said softly.

My sad eyes, full of love, remained on his.

“Julia,” he said again, almost in a whisper.

“Hmm,” I replied. I could feel the waterfall welling up behind my eyes.

“You’ll be my butterfly, right? You’ll come back to me?” he asked sheepishly.

My eyes then filled with salty tears almost instantly as my own butterflies in my stomach fled my body and were replaced by an overwhelming flow of emotions springing up from my chest and resting at the base of my now aching throat. I wanted to tell him so much, but through my tear-filled eyes and racing mind, I could only manage to communicate one, complete, yet wholly honest thought.

“I love you, Will Stephens, and I’ll never forget you. I’ll be your butterfly. I’ll always come back,” I said.

Will held me tightly in his embrace, until my parents came out to say goodbye. I left Will’s grip for an instant and wiped my tears with the back of my hand before hugging my mother and father. Then, I let Will walk me to the driver’s side of my jeep one last time before I left home. I pulled him close, and he gave me a kiss, and then he hesitantly opened my door and watched me climb into the driver’s seat.

“Drive carefully, Jules, and call me when you get there,” Will said, leaning into the driver’s side to kiss me again.

“I love you,” he said to me, with what I could tell was the best smile he had at the moment.

“I love you too,” I said, giving him the best smile I had also, through my drying tears.

Then, I backed my SUV up and then slid the gear shaft into drive before stepping on the gas pedal and slowly making my way up the long, curving driveway. At the top of the path, immediately before the start of the county road, I tapped on the breaks and blew Will a kiss. Will spotted my familiar gesture through the passenger’s side window, and like clockwork, put his fist up in the air to catch it. Then, I waved goodbye one last time and then bravely reset my focus on the county road in front of me. But no sooner had I got a half of a mile down the road, the sadness from the pit of my stomach welled up into my throat again, and the tears returned. The salty wetness gushed from my eyes as his figure grew smaller and smaller in my rearview mirror. My heart ached at the thought of him no longer being by my side to comfort me, and I missed him already, but I knew I had to go. This was the first step toward my dreams. I forced myself to think about my new adventure and the new things in store for me where I was going. And I focused on rebuilding my hard, outer shell again, trying desperately to stop the tears that poured onto my now cherry-colored cheeks as I continued down the rocky path, my butterfly weed on the seat next to me.

College kept me busy, for the most part, and fairly quickly, but without knowing it, I had fallen into a pretty consistent routine that would ultimately involve me rushing home at the end of my day to call Will. I had decided very early on that this had become, by far, the best part of the routine. My happiest moment came when I heard his deep voice on the other end of the line for the first time since the night before. Just the sound of his sultry words sent butterflies racing through my stomach, and tonight was no exception. In fact, tonight, three years ago to the day, I had finally said yes to our first date.

“Jules,” Will exclaimed happily after he picked up the phone.

“Hey, Honey. Happy Anniversary,” I said, bursting with excitement.

“Happy Anniversary to you too, Babe,” he exclaimed. “I really wish that I could be there with you right now.”

“I know, me too, but I’ll be home in two weeks, and we can celebrate it then. I promise,” I said, trying to remain as optimistic as humanly possible.

“I still think that you should skip practice this weekend,” he said, chuckling. “Who has practice on a Saturday anyway?”

“Crazy people who can tolerate running in circles just a little more than the average person,” I playfully countered. “But if you skip your exam Saturday, I’ll skip practice.”

“Okay, you got me, but you better believe that two weeks from now I’m going to be about all the Jules-deprived I can possibly be and still be breathing, so you better get your cute butt out of Columbia as soon as you possibly can that day,” Will demanded playfully.

I could tell that he was smiling on the other end of the phone.

“Don’t worry. I’ve already got a list of things that I need to pack, so as soon as class is done, I can throw everything into a bag and head out the door,” I informed him proudly.

“You and your lists,” Will teased.

I laughed.

“That’s why you love me, Honey. You need an organized mess like me to keep your life together. How was your day, by the way? I never…,” I started but then stopped.

“Hold on, Jules,” Will said abruptly.

I could hear the dreaded set of tones ringing in the background through the receiver. The sound made my heart sink.

“Jules, I’m so sorry, but I’ve got to go. Can I call you later?” he asked hurriedly.

I hesitated but then gave in.

“Sure,” I said somberly — out of pure habit.

I realized, like many times before when those same set of tones went off, that a response of sure was my only option. I knew he had to answer the call. I knew someone else needed him more than I did at the moment, but I couldn’t help but wish he didn’t have to go. I had come to dread the high-pitched succession of tones that signified his district and that set him scurrying for his keys and then out the door.

“Thanks, Jules. I love you. Bye,” he rambled off hastily.

Before I could say goodbye as well, Will was gone, and the other end of the phone was dead.

Taking a deep breath and then slowing letting it out, I stared at a spot on the beige-colored wall in my dorm room, feeling defeated. Then, after a long minute, I set the phone down onto the bedside table beside me.

I understood his position. I understood what his job entailed — what his dream entailed. Yet a selfish part of me still wanted back that time when he didn’t have to leave at a second’s notice.

I sighed, lay down and pulled my covers up to my face. Rolling onto my side and curling up, I reached for my cell phone on the nightstand and brought it close to my chest. He would call me later, I knew, and I would be waiting. I might not hear the call, and on the slight chance I did, I probably wouldn’t remember the conversation. Nevertheless, I would be waiting.