My Butterfly

and beautiful. I smile again at the thought. The only thing I didn’t see back then was just how loving they really are.
    “Here,” she softly says, bringing the cup to my hands.
    I notice her eyes lock onto the photo. A piece of it is sticking out, revealing the side of her young face. She acts as if she doesn’t see it, and she meets my eyes again and smiles.
    “I love you, Will Stephens,” she says.
    I take the tea cup in one hand and squeeze her soft, creased hand with the other. I look deep into her eyes then. I’m remembering all the moments that we loved and we cried and we loved so much that it made us cry. And I’m remembering all the hell we put ourselves through just to realize we should have been together from that very first moment. I love those moments, though. I love every one of them now. They’re our story now. Every mistake, every hurt, every joy, every longing—it’s ours, only ours.
    “Jules,” I start to say, and for some reason, I just can’t get the words out.
    I’m fighting back the tears in my eyes, and I’m remembering a lifetime of memories, and I just can’t get the words out to let her know how much love I have for her. I feel my lips quivering, and I quickly press them tightly together.
    “I know,” she says softly. “I know.”
    I search her eyes and let the air escape my lungs, as she buries her face into my hand near the mattress. I set the cup onto the nightstand’s surface and then place my other hand near hers. I can’t see her face, but I feel her tears falling wet onto my hand.
    “I know,” she says again.
    She buries her face deeper into both of my hands now and slides something hard in between my fingers. Then, she lifts her head and releases my hand, and my eyes fall onto a small, metal object.
    “She kept you safe all these years,” she says, in almost a whisper. “I can’t come with you now…”
    Her words trail off as I meet her gaze again. Pieces of her soft, gray hair have fallen near her face, and there are tears in her eyes. They make my heart break for her.
    I squeeze the guardian angel, and then I rest my hand on top of hers again.
    “Don’t be sad, sweetheart,” I say.
    A forced smile is edging up my face.
    “Will,” she says then, so softly I almost don’t hear her.
    “Yes, sweetheart?” I say.
    “Sometimes, I feel like we’re just kids,” she says and then pauses.
    I follow the path her eyes make to the open window.
    “And I think I hear rocks hitting the window, and I get the urge to climb out in the middle of the night and fall into your arms,” she says, returning her gaze to mine again and smiling through her tears.
    “And sometimes,” she continues, “I just want to go to the end of a gravel road and stare up at the stars from the hood of your truck or climb that big bluff downtown and watch the fireworks dance to the sky—just one more time.”
    She stops and smiles wider.
    “And there are actually times when I just want to fight, about nothing—because that’s what you do when you’re young and in love,” she says, as a tear escapes from her face and lands gently on my hand.
    “Will,” she continues.
    I gaze deeper into her tear-filled eyes. There’s a sincere, yet longing smile on my lips now.
    “I loved being young and in love with you,” she says.
    I take a shallow breath and then let it escape my lungs.
    “Me too,” I say, squeezing her hand tighter.
    “And I know we missed some of those years,” she goes on. “But from those years we missed, I can only remember you in them now.”
    She takes a moment before she continues.
    “I remember your face when you first looked up and saw me in the doorway that New Year’s Eve so long ago,” she says. “You looked so happy, and for a second, you made me forget that we were ever apart. And I remember that night in the hospital. I never told you, but I woke up early that next morning and told myself that I should leave. But I took one look at your handsome, sleeping face and snuggled back into your arms. Those are the parts, along with all the other wonderful parts before them and after them, that I remember. Those are the parts I hold onto.
    And Will, I love being not-so-young and in love with you too. Because whatever the moment, I love us.”
    I watch her bury her face into my hands at my side again, and I let my head fall back as I squeeze my eyelids shut and fight back my own tears. Then, suddenly, I feel her lift her head again, and my eyes open