My Butterfly

knew Jules. I knew everything about her. I loved everything about her. That had to count for something.
    I took a deep breath in through my nose and slowly let it escape past my lips. Then, my eyes rushed to the phone in my hand again. She would call back. She was going to call back any second. And she would tell me that she hadn’t meant what she had said, that she wanted me and that she loved me.
    Another five minutes passed with my stare frozen on the phone’s display before I rested my finger on the button that would speed-dial her number. But just before I was able to follow through, I heard my tones go off in the other room. And what was left of my heart sank to the deepest pit of my chest.
    “Damn it,” I shouted out loud as I squeezed the phone in the palm of my hand and thrust it hard against my thigh.
    Then, I hurled my hands to my face again and rubbed my eyes before standing up, shoving the phone into my jeans pocket and hurrying toward the tones.

Chapter Fourteen
    Schemes
     
     
    “W ill, there’s this girl from my class that I want you to meet…,” Jeff began, even before I could get my jacket off.
    “Uh-uh,” I said, shaking my head.
    “Come on, man,” he said. “She’s got long, brown hair. She’s getting her nursing degree. She’s sort of athletic. And have I mentioned, she’s beautiful?”
    I was still shaking my head when I pulled a can out from his refrigerator.
    “What does ‘sort of athletic’ mean?” I asked.
    “I don’t know,” he said, sending wrinkles to his forehead.
    He sounded irritated that I had asked.
    “Like she can throw you your keys, but don’t expect her to throw you a football,” he said.
    “Aah,” I said, smiling.
    I pushed down the tab on the can and took a swig before I noticed Jeff had grown quiet. My eyes quickly scanned the room and found him in the corner staring at me.
    “Well?” he asked.
    “Well, what?” I asked. “Aren’t you supposed to be getting some kind of an associate’s degree or something and not checking out all the girls instead?”
    “Hey,” he said, “my parents want the degree, and I’ll do it, but if I’ve gotta do it, I’m not gonna do it with a blindfold on.”
    I laughed.
    “Okay, okay,” I said. “But if she’s so beautiful, why are you trying to set her up with me? Why don’t you like her?”
    He paused.
    “Because she likes you, you idiot,” he said, in a way that sounded as if he was annoyed to have had to say it.
    “Oh, come on,” I said, swinging over the arm of a chair in the living room and falling into it. “What’s not to like about you?”
    “Well, that’s what I said. But she saw you last weekend, and now, all of a sudden I’m her best friend—but not in a good way,” he said.
    I turned my face back toward him and caught him rolling his eyes.
    “She’s friends with me only because I know you,” he said.
    “Last weekend?” I asked, under my breath.
    He nodded his head and moved into the kitchen.
    “Yeah, she must have seen you playing golf or something,” he said, now taking out two slices of bread from the bag and slapping a piece of cheese on one slice. “She works at the golf course.”
    “Hmm,” I said, flipping on the television.
    “Anyway, what do you say?” he asked.
    He was still fumbling around the kitchen.
    “About what?” I asked.
    “I don’t know,” he said. “I’m not a matchmaker. I’m just the messenger. What do I tell her?”
    I glanced back and shot him a puzzled look. He caught my eye and stuffed half of the sandwich into his mouth.
    “Dude, you have a really big mouth,” I said, chuckling. “Has anyone ever told you that?”
    “I’ll t-ell her you’ll c-all her,” he said, sounding slightly exasperated.
    I could barely understand him with his mouth stuffed full of sandwich.
    “Jeff, I’m not gonna call her,” I said. “Anyway, don’t you like her? You call her.”
    “She likes you, toolbag,” he said, sending the loaf of bread—bag and all—my way.
    The loaf hit the can in my hand and spewed liquid all over my tee shirt.
    “What the hell, Jeff?” I said, sitting up and whisking the drink off of my shirt.
    “Look, you want Julia back?” he asked.
    I stopped brushing off the liquid and looked up at him again.
    “Invite this girl to the New Year’s Eve party,” he went on. “It doesn’t have to be anything serious. Julia comes. She sees the two of you together. She proceeds to do the whole jealous-girl thing. Then,