My Butterfly (28 page)

“Does he really?” Janette asked.

She sounded excited.

“You know, I bet they were in the same fraternity,” Janette said. “They’re all so close, you know?”

Rachel smiled and lifted her shoulders again.

“You know, that’s probably it,” Rachel said.

“Where is Ben?” Janette asked, as she pushed herself up from her chair and craned her neck around.

Rachel pointed to a burly-looking guy across the room, and just like that, Janette was gone.

“Thanks,” I softly said.

“Don’t mention it,” Rachel said.

There was a silent moment then as Rachel and I both watched Janette run over to Ben and say something and then Ben look at her as if she were crazy.

“Priceless,” Rachel said, proudly smiling.

“So, how is everything going?” Rachel asked, planting her eyes on me again. “What do your parents think about the band and everything?”

I smiled.

“They seem to be getting used to the idea,” I said. “I really don’t think they knew what to think of it at first. But you know them; if I’m happy, they’re happy.”

Rachel shook her head and smiled.

“I bet your mom’s ecstatic,” she said.

I chuckled a little to myself.

“Yeah, I guess it was Dad that I had to more or less convince,” I said.

“Oh, I’m sure it didn’t take much convincing once he heard you guys play,” she said.

I smiled, bashfully. Then, it was quiet for a moment again.

“So, have you talked to Julia lately?” I asked.

Rachel found my eyes and gently smiled, kind of like a mom would smile at you right before she told you that your hamster didn’t make it through the night or something.

“She’s doing well,” she said, slowly nodding her head. “She has a test or something and couldn’t make it tonight, but she’s doing well.”

I nodded my head too as my eyes turned down and searched for a spot to rest on the table’s surface in front of us.

“Can you believe Janette?” Rachel asked, quickly changing the subject. “I mean, you’re practically a rock star, and she’s sitting here talking about her accountant boyfriend like he just found some medical cure.”

I lowered my head and laughed.

“I’m not a rock star, Rach,” I said.

“Well, you’re gonna be, and Little Miss Tickin’ Blueberry Muffin is going to drop one of her two kids into her perfect recipe’s batter when she sees you on television someday,” she said.

I chuckled some more.

“Rachel, you’ve got a wild imagination,” I said.

Rachel laughed, found my gaze and then rested her hand on mine.

My eyes darted to her hand and then met her eyes.

“Call her,” she said, softly. “There’s no reason you guys should be strangers.”

I forced a smile and nodded my head. Then, I felt her hand slowly pull away from mine again.

“Rachel,” I said and then stopped.

I glanced around us. Nobody was within an ear’s shot, so I continued.

“It’s been five years, and it just doesn’t seem like we’re ever in the same place,” I said. “There have been times when I’ve wanted to say things to her.”

I paused and looked around again.

“But it just never happened,” I went on. “There’s a part of me that feels like she might prefer that we just be strangers.”

Rachel softly smiled.

“Her dad was a cop,” she said.

My eyes instinctively narrowed. She had said the words as straightforward as you could say words. I cocked my head and furrowed my eyebrows. Then, I watched her close her eyes briefly and nod her head.

“St. Boni Police Department for fifteen years,” she said. “He quit the force when Julia was eight.”

I was speechless for a second.

“What?” I eventually asked.

She sighed and met my eyes again.

“Evidently one night, he didn’t come home, and Julia’s mom went crazy trying to find him,” she said. “Eventually, she found out that he had been shot by some guy he had pulled over that night. The guy had a warrant and thought shooting her dad was the only way to get out of going back to jail. Her dad was in the hospital for a week, until he recovered and went back to work. Julia’s mom, on the other hand, never really recovered. Julia told me that she remembered waking up to her mom screaming the nights following the accident. He retired soon after that.”

I sat back in my chair and stared up at the wall.

“Why didn’t she ever tell me this?” I asked.

Rachel softly smiled.

“Because she doesn’t talk about it—no one in her family talks about it,” she said. “I just so happened to stumble across a photo with him in a uniform one day, and I forced her to explain. It wasn’t a very happy time for Julia, and her dad must have loved the force, but he must have loved her mom more.”

She met my eyes again. I knew my face was some kind of blank, and my lips were stuck on a word my mind couldn’t seem to think to form.

“I’m only telling you because I think the eight-year-old girl inside of her is running from you,” she said.

She took in a big breath and let out a sigh.

“But you can’t ever tell her I told you,” she said, in a pleading voice.

I shook my head.

“I won’t,” I softly said.

I slid farther back into my chair and let its back catch me.

“Rachel, what guy do I know that knows Janette’s boyfriend?” Ben interrupted, as he pulled a chair to our table.

Rachel flashed me a sly half-smile before she turned her attention to Ben.

“I just needed a break,” Rachel said to him. “Wait, how did you get over here so fast?”

Ben chuckled.

“I just told her Jeff’s the one who knew him,” he said.

Rachel and Ben laughed. I was too preoccupied.

“How’s Jon?” Ben asked Rachel, after their laughter had faded.

I pushed my chair back and stood up.

“Well, I think I’m going to take off,” I said.

I didn’t even try to make up an excuse.

“Oh, okay,” Rachel said.

The pause in her voice told me that she understood.

“You leaving already, buddy?” Ben asked.

“Yeah, I think so,” I said.

“Okay, well, have a good night,” he said. “I’ll be taking off here soon anyway. I swear I’m having déjà vu. I mean, didn’t we just see all these people Friday night?”

Rachel dramatically nodded her head and found my eyes.

“See!” she exclaimed.

I forced a smile and tipped my cap to Rachel, and her proud smile turned soft again. Then, I walked to the door, pushed it open and hastily made my way to Lou in the gravel parking lot. My pace picked up with each step, but it was still as if I couldn’t get behind the wheel and out of there fast enough.

Within a few minutes, I pulled in front of the high school and turned off my truck. I could see through the windows that the lights were off and that no one was inside. I got out, closed the door behind me and made my way around the building and to the back. When I came to a couple of metal doors, I reached above them and found a key under a layer of dust on the ledge. I slid the key into the door and pushed it open. Once inside, I closed the door behind me, shoved the key into my jeans pocket and took in a deep breath. It smelled like a mixture of unwashed basketball jerseys, old books and that wax they used on the gym floor every year. I waited for my eyes to readjust to the darkness inside. Then, I shuffled to the gym and switched on a light that illuminated the path in front of me. Four concrete steps later, I was on the stage. It was empty except for a couple of stray balls, a questionable ladder and an abandoned sweatshirt. I walked over to the far side and pulled on a narrow rope, which forced the heavy stage curtains to part. When the rope wouldn’t move anymore, I hurried over to the edge of the stage and looked out onto the court. The light from behind me was just bright enough that I could see what I needed to see. My eyes immediately fell onto a rafter in the corner of the gym near the stage. And in the rafter, I spotted two balls.

A disbelieving laugh fell off my lips next.

“She was right. Nothing ever leaves the rafters,” I said to myself.

I swiveled around on my heels and spotted the ladder first. It was clearly not tall enough to get me directly to the ball, but if I stood on it and used one of the other balls lying on the stage, I just might be able to knock it down.

I rushed over to the stepladder, picked it up and carried it down another four steps to the other side of the stage. Then, I positioned it slightly under the ball imprisoned high in the ceiling and then ran back and grabbed two, rubber balls.

Once I reached the stepladder again, I carefully climbed up its wooden planks. The old ladder had definitely seen some better days. I got about three quarters of the way up, waited for it to stop swaying, and then I balanced my weight against its frame. Next, I took the first rubber ball, arched it back and sent it flying into the air toward the volleyball. It hit the ball but then fell right beside it, and in the end, only helped to wedge the volleyball even tighter into the rafter. I took the second rubber ball then, arched it back and then sent it into the air as well. It hit the volleyball and knocked it so that the volleyball was now balancing on both the beam of the rafter and the other ball. I waited for the second rubber ball to come tumbling back down to the floor. Then, I carefully scurried down the ladder and over to where it had rolled into a dark spot under the bleachers. My hand felt for the ball under the wooden seats, then quickly recovered it. And before I knew it, I was hurrying back to the ladder again. Then, one more arch and a launch later and the rubber ball and the volleyball were both plummeting back down to the hard gym floor.

“Yes,” I yelled, pumping my fist into the air.

The ladder rocked, and I quickly grabbed each side to steady it again. Then, I watched the volleyball roll to the opposite side of the gym before I flew down the ladder.

Once my feet hit the floor again, I jogged over to the volleyball and scooped it up. Sure enough, her name and number were still tattooed to the ball. I ran my fingers over the letters in her name.

“You lasted some years up there, ball,” I said, smiling to myself. “Don’t worry, though, we’re gonna finally get you home.”

New York
 

I
put my arms through my grandpa’s old military jacket. His name and division were still etched on the tag inside. I had worn the jacket for every gig and show that I could tolerate its extra warmth under the bright lights. It made me feel as though I had a piece of him and a piece of home too, I guessed, everywhere I went.

I adjusted the jacket over my shoulders and arms while I stood in front of the tall mirror. The dressing room was nicer than any hotel I had ever
stayed in. I was alone but only because Daniel, Matt and Chris were in the other room making a big stink about the food they had left us.

I started to fix the collar of
my jacket but then stopped when I noticed the scar on my wrist. It had become a constant reminder of the night I had broken it. But what was funny about it was that I didn’t remember the fire or the fall or the trip to the emergency room anymore. Now, the only thing I remembered was waking up next to Julia in that little hospital bed. The scar had become something of a little souvenir of sorts from our last night together.

I felt my lips start to slowly turn up as my mind got stuck on Jules. I was pretty sure she didn’t know
about the crazy events that had led up to this moment, unless Rachel had told her. And I guessed Rachel hadn’t because this seemed as if it would have been something Jules might have went out of her way to mention—unless she really had forgotten about us, like Rachel always joked she had.

I looked at my reflection again in the mirror and took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

I let a moment pass before I opened my eyes again. I would look for her out there—just like I had every time I had stepped onto a stage. Though, I was pretty sure I wouldn’t see her. I reached into my jacket and pulled out a small pin from its inside pocket. It was a guardian angel, her guardian angel. I ran my fingers over its metal surface. She promised she would come back someday, and I believed her.

“Hey, Will,” Matt said, as he poked his head into the room.

I turned and faced him.

“They’re calling us up,” he said.

“Okay,” I replied. “I’ll be right there.”

I turned around again and glanced one more time into the mirror and then at the angel in between my fingers.

“I feel like I can’t get to you fast enough,” I whispered under my breath.

Then, I slid the pin back into my pocket and pressed it against my heart.

...

“Good morning,
New York City,” I yelled into the microphone.

Just then, a roar of screams echoed off the tall buildings that surrounded us. It was loud—louder than I had expected. And there was a row of people pressed up against the stage below us—girls, guys, kids.