My Butterfly by Laura Miller

Instead, I looked up to see her taking steps toward me. She was wearing those little jean shorts that she always wore and a tank top with her favorite band stretched across its front. And she was tan—that summer sun kind of tan that made her blond hair blonder and every part of her that much more irresistible. I tried to smile, but in the end, I knew that I couldn’t hide how I really felt.
    Eventually, she got close enough to touch me. Then, she threw her arms around my neck and pulled my face close to hers.
    “How could I forget about you?” she asked. “If I forget about you, I’ve lost the happiest years of my life.”
    I tried so hard to force a smile, but the more I got lost in her eyes, the more I wanted this all to be a dream—a dream where I wake up and she’s telling me that she’ll stay in our little town forever.
    “Jules,” I said.
    “Hmm?” she asked.
    “Sometimes I love you so much it hurts,” I said. “Is that normal?”
    Her smile faltered and turned sad before it grew happy again.
    “Mm hmm,” she said, nodding her head.
    “How do you know?” I asked.
    “Because I’m normal, and it hurts me too sometimes,” she said.
    I felt the corners of my lips naturally edging up my face. Then, I let my eyes rest in hers for a little while. It was always comfortable and happy in her eyes. Then, suddenly, I remembered the flowers again, and I broke our stare to retrieve them. After snatching them from the passenger’s seat, I brought them to rest at a place in between us. Then, I watched her eyes lock onto flowers.
    “It’s a butterfly weed,” I said, in almost a whisper.
    She took the flowers into her hands.
    “It’s pretty for a weed,” she said. “I’ve seen it before?”
    I smiled.
    “Yeah, along roads and in fields, pretty much everywhere around here,” I said. “They keep cuttin’ ‘em down, but they always grow back. They never give up,” I added, softly.
    I watched her smile brighten as she stared into the flowers. And eventually, she came to the note attached to the stem by the little white ribbon and stopped to follow over its words.
    “Do you know why they never give up?” I whispered near her ear.
    She slowly shook her head back and forth.
    “No,” she whispered.
    I met her eyes.
    “Because they want the butterflies to come back to them,” I whispered. “They need each other to survive.”
    Her gaze slowly fell to the flowers clasped within her slender fingers.
    “Julia,” I said again.
    “Hmm?” she replied.
    “You’ll be my butterfly, right? You’ll come back to me?” I asked.
    She looked up at me again, and I could see her eyes filling with water. I didn’t mean for her to cry. I didn’t mean to make her sad.
    “I love you, Will Stephens, and I’ll never forget you,” she said in a soft, broken voice. “I’ll be your butterfly. I’ll always come back home.”
    I wrapped my arms around her then and held her as tightly as I could. I imagined never letting her go.
    “You’re brave,” I said, “doing this all alone.”
    I felt her body press harder against mine.
    “Don’t leave,” I whispered into her ear.
    She held me a little longer, then slowly pulled away when her parents came out to meet her.
    Her lips seemed as if they were trying to force a smile when her eyes met mine again. I knew she wouldn’t stay, and I didn’t expect her to, and I knew she knew that.
    I watched her turn and felt her hand squeeze mine for an instant and then let go as she made her way to her parents.
    “Mr. and Mrs. Lang,” I said, tipping my cap.
    “Hi, Will,” her mom said to me with a warm smile.
    I could tell she had been crying too.
    I watched as Jules hugged her mom and then her dad and then made her way back to me.
    “You ready?” I asked her.
    “No,” she softly said, shaking her head.
    “Sure you are,” I said, doing the best I could to muster up a smile.
    I walked her to the driver’s side of her jeep. Then, she pulled me close and pressed her