Laura Miller - Butterfly Weeds

I relaxed my head back against the grassy earth again.

“My hero,” I said sarcastically, smiling and letting out an enormous sigh of relief also.

I felt exhausted and in pain, yet full of life, all at the same time.

“How is it that you climbed up and down that old windmill and cleared a chain-linked fence twice as I watched from the safe ground below, and now I’m the one who winds up injured?” I asked.

“Why, I’m Spiderman, Honey,” Will said, while making himself comfortable on the soft, grassy ground beside me.

I laughed and rolled my eyes. I somehow found him utterly irresistible in that moment, even in his one-piece, full-body, spandex suit, still complete with its webbed mask.

“You know, Mary Jane got to kiss Spiderman after he saved her,” I reminded Will.

“Well, then, my damsel in distress, I must get a kiss,” Will proclaimed, pulling off his face mask and leaning over me.

I raised my head and touched my lips to his. For a moment, I reveled in the feel of his unrivaled kiss. And butterflies welled up in my stomach as he eventually withdrew his lips from mine and gently kissed my forehead. Heaven must come with sprained ankles, I caught myself thinking.

Will was a great kisser. His lips were tender and soft and knew just how to fit perfectly against mine. I loved the way his kisses made me feel — like I was the only girl in the world that could complete him. And even while hiding from the law and lying in a dirt-filled ditch with a throbbing ankle positioned on a hard, rough rock, Will still managed, somehow, to make me feel safe and beautiful and happy.

“You know this was my plan all along — to get you alone tonight,” Will announced proudly.

I turned my head toward him.

“This was your plan?” I questioned him, smiling. “You’re plan was that we would come as close as possible to getting arrested, that I would twist my ankle and our friends would leave us out in the middle of nowhere? That was your plan?”

“Well, when you put it that way, that wasn’t it exactly, but I still have you here next to me,” he said sheepishly, sending a coy wink my way.

I laughed.

“I love your laugh, Jules,” Will said, a little more seriously now.

“I love yours too, Spiderman,” I said back to him, still smiling.

“We’re going to spend the rest of our lives like this, you know?” Will informed me then.

I looked at the dirt and grass stains pressed deep into my tank top and shorts and then at my leg propped up on the dirty rock at my feet.

“Oh, God, is this all I can hope for?” I asked as sarcastically as I possibly could.

Will hovered over me, smiling coyly.

“What do they call your kind?” he asked playfully. “Is it hopeless romantic?”

I looked into his beautiful blue eyes and smiled wildly as he continued.

“I meant, I want to spend the rest of my life under the stars, surrounded by life and everything that comes with it — twisted ankles, close calls, tree frogs and all — beside you, through it all,” he said sincerely.

I could tell by his voice that he wasn’t joking this time. And I was speechless. He was the songwriter for a reason. I’m just his speechless muse.

“Will Stephens, I wouldn’t want to be anywhere else with anyone else but you tonight. And when you put a ring on this finger, I will consider myself the luckiest girl in the whole, wide world,” I said happily.

Will paused then, and his eyes found mine.

“Are you feeling lucky tonight?” he asked me, exposing his bright, wide smile.

“What?” I asked, giggling and a little thrown off-guard.

I watched him spin around and start gathering things from the ground behind me.

“Will, what on earth are you doing?” I questioned him, unable to see for myself.

“One second, My Love,” he reassured me.

He continued to fidget with something beyond my view.

“Okay, close your eyes,” he said finally.

“Why?” I lightly protested.

“Trust me,” he echoed back.

I reluctantly closed my eyes, heard some rustling and then heard him speak.

“Okay, open,” he said.

I opened my eyes to him kneeling beside me, a braided grass ring in his hands.

“What is…,” I started.

“Jules, will you marry me…someday?” he asked, before I could finish.

He looked so sweet and innocent, and beautiful, with his dark curls shooting up every which way — the result of his head being pressed against the grassy ground just moments before.

I giggled happy giggles.

“Yes, Will, I will marry you…someday,” I said, grinning from ear to ear.

Then, he slid the ring onto my left hand and kissed my forehead.

Just then, the ground in front of us was illuminated — this time, by another set of headlights.

Will turned and peered over the embankment. I held my breath until he looked back at me smiling.

“Our carriage awaits, My Future Mrs. Spiderman,” he announced happily.

Will stood up, brushed the dirt off of his spandex suit and helped me to my feet — or one, good foot, at least. And in one, solid motion, he scooped me up into his arms and made his way toward the lights.

The two boys in the backseat welcomed us with cheers and shouts.

“We thought the police had picked you up,” one of the boys bellowed out.

I lightheartedly rolled my eyes as Will glanced at me and smiled.

“Not this time, boys,” Will remarked back.

He then sat me gently into the passenger’s seat next to Rachel, and then he too jumped into the backseat with his two buddies. When they were all tightly packed into the back of the jeep again, Rachel once again put the SUV into reverse and then drive and headed back down the gravel road toward town, leaving the site of the previous hour’s commotion in the dust.

Two days later, I hobbled down the wooden stairs of my parents’ rural route home. Will had rewrapped my ankle with bandages the night before, and I managed to get around fairly easily on it now.

Making my way to the kitchen, I spotted the weekly newspaper sitting as usual on the table. I glanced at it, looked away briefly, but then something caused me to take a second look. A photo had caught my eye.

Without any more hesitation, I snatched up the ink-filled weekly as my eyes went directly to the image plastered on the front page below the fold and then raced over the words in the snapshot’s caption.

Spiderman makes his way up what is believed to be the old windmill southwest of town earlier this week. An anonymous source dropped this photo off at the Journal’s offices Monday morning. So far, no one has come forward with leads as to who might be the man or woman behind the mask of the town’s elusive hero. For now, we can only rest assured that New Milford is a little safer knowing that Spiderman is in our midst.

I laughed out loud, unable to conceal my all-knowing smile.

So this was his scheme all along, my eyes now returning to the photo.

“What is it?” my dad asked me, walking into the room and interrupting my thoughts.

I jumped slightly.

I watched him make his way to the refrigerator, grab the orange juice, set it down onto the kitchen table and then face me, waiting for my reply.

I hesitated as my eyes feverishly darted to the photo again. It could be anyone up there. He’d never know, or at least, a girl could hope anyway.

“Did you see the front page today?” I asked in answer to his question.

“No, what’s on it?” he asked, reaching in my direction.

I reluctantly handed him the newspaper, face up, then watched his features for his reaction. I could see his eyes widen as a gaping smile broke across his face.

“Well, I’ll be. That’s Spiderman alright,” he said, cracking a full smile.