Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

My heart ached, and I again felt the enormous urge to cry. I should never say never. It only gets me into trouble. Of course I could hurt more. What was I thinking? I slowed and carefully pulled off the highway and onto the gravel shoulder. Both hands on the wheel, my eyes began to well up with tears. I didn’t want to leave, yet I had no reason to stay. I had no reason to stay, yet somehow, for the first time, I wanted to have a reason to stay. I had done it hundreds of times before, yet tonight, I just couldn’t do it. I couldn’t bring myself to step on the gas pedal, to keep on going. And for the first time, it seemed natural, yet completely crazy to just stop.

And suddenly, and without warning, a new confidence sprinted wildly through my body, and for the first time in years, my thoughts were completely contrary to what made sense. They were risky and uncalculated, clumsy and childlike, but they were all focused on one, definite truth. And in an instant, not only all the world, but my world was right again. Well, almost.

I made a u-turn back onto the empty, two-lane highway, forcing myself back down the path I had just come. I was surely crazy, but what about this night wasn’t?

Before I knew it, I was pulling back into the grass parking lot, the rental swaying back and forth, threatening to split into two again.

Still with both hands on the steering wheel, I stared at the dimly lit scene in front of me. There were hundreds of white, plastic chairs still set up in neatly made rows. A flatbed truck now sat next to one row of chairs on the far right, but I could see no one in sight.

I put the car into park, then slowly got out, and gently closed the door behind me. I sighed and released a sad exhale from my lips. Even though, for a moment, I felt almost relieved to find no one.

Within seconds, however, my heart ached again, reminding me of my quest. He could be anywhere by now. I took another deep breath and then cautiously made my way to the last row of chairs and took a seat. I was nervous. My hands were shaking, yet I found it strange that at the same time, I never felt surer of myself.

I looked around. The scene in front of me looked different now than it had just hours before. In fact, the field had almost returned to its natural state. I mean, it was still littered with chairs and a stage and a few people that I could now see behind the stage — none of whom were Will — bustling around, unplugging cords and loading instruments and lights. But now, tree frogs had replaced the hum of a crowd of people; a sole white light had taken over for the blues and greens and the smell of weeds had replaced the odor of bottled perfumes.

Seconds drew on in near silence as I methodically observed the men and women dance around in the distance. It was as if I weren’t there at all. I was an invisible fly on their wall. The feeling was comfortable — almost euphoric. I reveled in it until a familiar sound penetrated the air.

“Julia,” a voice called out from behind me.

I turned in my chair and then quickly stood up when I saw him.

“Did you forget something?” he asked sincerely.

I didn’t say anything immediately. I couldn’t say anything. For a moment, I had no words.

“Yes,” I finally managed to mumble.

I watched his muscular chest rise and fall, feeling his blue eyes pierce my inner being as I rallied up my courage.

“I forgot how much I love you,” I said sheepishly, with a messy, post-tears smile.

He looked shocked and almost as if he were going to say something. Though, he remained speechless, motionless.

“Could you use a hand?” I asked softly, as I grasped tightly the back of a plastic chair, so he wouldn’t see my hands shaking, praying he’d say something.

Will continued to show off a weighty expression as he stood there, staring at me staring at him.

“You’re beautiful,” he said finally, his face melting into a happy grin.

I breathed a blissful sigh of relief. And though I disagreed with his statement, I didn’t protest. I stood before him with hair tossed around moist eyes, make-up in shambles, in my tee shirt and dark blue jeans, not even having the slightest idea of what to do next.

“You’re even more beautiful than in dreams, though I’m still prayin’ like crazy this isn’t one,” he said, in a low, soft voice, as he took a couple of steps in my direction.

Then, as if the world had been set on some kind of slow motion option, I watched him bend down and lower one knee to the ground. As he did this, he pulled a small box from his pants pocket and lifted its lid toward me. Inside was a diamond ring.

“Julia Austin Lang,” he began, “I love you more than anything in this world, and I could never imagine spending a second more of my life without you, and I’ve more than learned life’s lesson. I’m not gonna let you get away again.

Jules, will you marry me — someday very soon?”

My left hand had found my face and was now pressed against my lips as he finished.

And speechless and breathless, I managed to nod.

Will smiled, gently took my hand from my lips and slipped the ring onto my finger. Then, he stood and scooped me up into his arms.

“Thanks for coming back to me, Jules,” I heard him whisper into my ear.

The tears welled up in my eyes once more as I surrendered to his embrace, but this time, they were tears of relief, of having finally won the battle for my heart. And this time, I let them fall.

I was home. I was safe. I was happy. I was sixteen.

“I told you I’d come back,” I whispered as I too wrapped my arms around him and rested my head against his strong chest, breathing in the scent of comfort. “I’m sorry I took so long.”

Those words — the words that had held me captive for so long now ironically freed me, and I felt as if my whole life had changed in that instant. I smiled and closed my eyes, inhaling a deep breath of my new-found freedom. It smelled like a mixture of his cologne, sweat and aftershave, and it was, to me, just short of heavenly.

And as he held me, I realized that there had never been another for me. I had always been his, and he had always been mine, and in that moment, my heartbeat slowed, and my hands stopped shaking, and I melted into his strong arms, like I had never said goodbye. I had found him again, and with him, my world had become completely unwound. It was messy and impulsive, naïve and irrational, and somehow, right again.

Ipause from my thoughts for a moment as I let my pen lie idly over the words on the page and look up to the painter’s colors in the big sea above me. A tear trickles down my aging skin, getting caught in a silver strand of my hair. All around me, the world appears utterly peaceful — almost painfully — because I know that it will not last forever. It never does.

Tall grasses mixed with dandelions and butterfly weeds give way slightly to the soothing breeze, and the hum of a perfect silence rings gently in my ears like waves breaking in a far-off ocean. Perhaps, they are the waves that I viewed outside of April’s and my little apartment in Banker’s Hill or the Southern ones from Charleston that often brought me comfort in my former life.

I watch the colors above me fade into deep blues and dark grays as night touches first the picket fence and then the base of the earth in the distance.

The smell of lilac brushes over my cheek bones as I close my eyes and take a deep breath, filling my tired lungs with as much of the freshest of air I can possibly fit into them at one time. Where there are grandmothers, there are lilac bushes, I think to myself and smile knowingly. I hold the breath hostage for a moment and then slowly let it escape through my lips, allowing my chest to fall gradually, leisurely.