Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

I let a breath of unsteady air pass cautiously through my lips as the ballad ended, the piano ceased its playing and the stage lights dimmed. I felt as if I had held the air prisoner in my chest for the duration of the song. I could hear the crowd erupt as Will exited the stage for the last time that night. I watched his figure walk slowly, head down to the edge of the dark curtains and eventually disappear. And though I heard the crowd’s cheers, they weren’t loud enough to block out the racing thoughts in my head or the thudding of my pounding heart in my chest.

What had I just heard? What had just happened? And what had he meant? He said my name, right? It was my name. It wasn’t anyone else’s? I was Julia, right?

Not even able to form anything resembling a whole, logical thought, I unlocked my eyes from my deep stare into the stage that, by now, held no one. My heart was in pieces, and tears had welled up in my eyes, forcing a gradual mist to escape down my flushed cheeks. I hadn’t taken my eyes off of the singer the entire night. I was so entranced by his voice and the sweet words he had sung. And I knew it sounded crazy, but I felt almost as if it had just been only the two of us standing in the field together all alone, alone and together like so many times years before. But this time, I was speechless and uncontrollably breathless. I tried desperately to regain my thoughts first and then my composure. How had a simple song unraveled me so much?

It was that one, five-letter word that had made me lose myself. My own name had caused me to shatter into a million, tiny pieces, and now, I lay broken amongst the grass and dirt in a Missouri field. I hadn’t suspected this turn of events in the least bit as I had made my way back to my hometown earlier in the evening.

I slowly lowered myself back into the chair behind me. I would have fallen involuntarily into the seat within moments anyway if I hadn’t forced myself to its plastic surface.

It was my name. He had said my name. I wasn’t crazy. I couldn’t be dreaming. I could physically feel the wet tears that I was now frantically wiping off of my face with the back of my hand. The buzz of the crowd was so clear and so audible. I could even smell the grass and soil beneath my feet that now mixed with an assortment of colognes and perfumes. I wasn’t dreaming, which also meant that I couldn’t wake up.

The thought made me feel somewhat claustrophobic. Now, I wished more than anything that I were next to Rachel, though I’d take anyone familiar now. I just needed, at the very least, some validation, but I knew I wasn’t getting any of that anytime soon. I didn’t know anyone around me, and more importantly, no one knew me.

With that realization, my thoughts immediately turned toward my escape. I needed only to get to my car across the grassy parking lot before anyone could see my disheveled state, before the crowd around me started leaving, pouring past me.

Searching for my leather handbag still on the chair next to me, I noticed a woman that was probably in her forties looking dead at me and whispering to someone that could have been the woman’s husband. My glance quickly left the stranger then and refocused straight ahead. Great. I had been spotted — the soggy girl in the back, crying her eyes out, had officially been detected.

Just get to the car.

I put my head down and dashed toward the sedan parked in the temporary parking lot at the edge of the field. I was making some headway, but I couldn’t help but catch the whispers as I fled past the lingering few that had filed in after the concert had started.

“Is that her?” I heard at different times as I fled, still trying feverishly to wipe the tears from my cheeks with the back of my hand. I was too well aware of my physical and emotional state not to think that they weren’t talking about me.

But maybe they would just think I’m allergic to corn or dirt or grass — or love songs with my name in them, written by old flames.

It took me less than a minute to reach my rented car. Once there, I jumped into the driver’s seat and forced the key into the ignition. A quick turn purred the engine to a start. My hands were shaking as I slid the gear shaft into reverse and then drive.

A slight sense of relief came over me as I made my escape from the dirt path and back onto the highway.

Safe.

I let out a sigh.

Though my getaway lent only but a little solace, it was enough to get my hands to stop shaking. I drove deliberately; though, the faster I drove, the more my heart pounded in my chest. And my thoughts continued to turn awful-looking cartwheels in my head. It was like someone had just put a four-year-old up in my mind and told her to play the outfield.

“What just happened?” I spoke out loud, babbling uncontrollably. “Is he serious? Why would he do this? What does it mean? He couldn’t have waited this long, but had he? Why wouldn’t he have told me sooner? What was it exactly that he had told me anyway? Did he even know I was there? I was engaged, Will. I was engaged a year ago. You knew that. I could be married now.”

I spoke as if someone were in the passenger’s seat next to me. I spoke as if he were in the passenger’s seat next to me, though my words fell to the hard, unforgiving floorboards instead.

“I am being ridiculous, and I am definitely not crying,” I tried to convince myself. “These are silly tears, and they mean nothing. They mean nothing,” I pleaded as the salty wetness poured down my face.

I slowed as I turned onto a gravel road. My heart literally ached, though I still wondered why. It didn’t seem possible that he could still shake me like this. Thoughts cascaded through my mind one after the other, at the same time, an old habit guided me down the winding, gravel road and to a familiar, almost-forgotten place.

Ibrought the rented sedan to rest at the graveled area where tonight a handful of fireflies had already begun their dance around the open, grass fields. A black lull had just engulfed the countryside no more than an hour ago, leaving a silent blanket of darkness behind. Tree frogs echoed crickets in the nearby brush, and I could hear the creek behind me gently pouring over a bed of limestone as I turned the key and silenced the engine.