My Butterfly

about giving Julia a call in a little while,” I said.
    My eyes happened to catch Jeff’s face in midsentence. His features had positioned themselves in a way that just looked strange to me.
    “What?” I asked.
    “Do you think that’s such a good idea?” he asked.
    “And I suppose you have another great plan,” I said.
    “No, no more plans,” he promised. “I’m just…I’m not trying to suggest anything, but have you ever thought that maybe the two of you just aren’t meant for each other?”
    A scowl replaced my puzzled look.
    “Weren’t you the one who said, ‘Take Jessica to the party. Julia will be there. She’ll see the two of you. She’ll get jealous, and then she’ll come running back to you?’ Wasn’t that you?” I exclaimed.
    He blankly stared at me.
    “Hey, you admitted it was worth a shot,” he said.
    “I know, but now you’re telling me to give up on her?” I asked.
    The volume of my voice was rising.
    “Listen,” he said, “New Year’s Eve was my fault. I’m man enough to admit it. In all honesty, I really thought it would work. I thought it would work for both of us. Instead, Julia hates you, and judging by her somber mood today, Jessica loves you even more.”
    He let out a big sigh.
    “I’m sorry, man,” he said. “It was a bad idea.”
    I cradled my face in my hands and let out a frustrated grunt.
    “It’s fine,” I eventually said. “I knew it wouldn’t work, but I did it anyway. Damn it! What do I do now?”
    I directed my question not to Jeff but to myself, though I heard Jeff start to stutter.
    “Um, I mean, I don’t always have the best ideas or say the right things,” he said.
    My eyes, glazed over in sarcasm, found his.
    “But I really am just looking out for you, buddy,” he continued. “And no one would be happier than me to see you and Julia together—and Jessica finally wise up and fall for me, of course.”
    He stopped and cleared his throat.
    “But have you ever thought that maybe Julia just isn’t coming back?” he asked.
    His voice had grown sheepish.
    “I mean, they go off into that big, college world, and they don’t come back, Will,” he said. “They don’t ever come back. I mean, name someone who’s come back.”
    I paused and thought for a second, while names started scrolling through my mind. Most of the names were of people who had never “left” New Milford. The rest were names of people who had “left” and who had never come…
    I stopped in mid-thought.
    “Jeff, it’s Julia,” I said.
    The words were gentle but deliberate.
    Jeff paused and set his eyes on me again.
    “Will, it could be Juliet, but the fact is, most times, they don’t come back, and you know it,” he said.
    I sat back in my chair, as a dull pain began stabbing at the inside of my chest near my heart. Jeff kept talking, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying. I was starting to feel sick.
    “Will,” I thought I heard him say.
    “You all right, buddy?” he asked.
    My eyes slowly turned up toward him. I must have had an uneasy look planted on my face or something because he was backing away from me and into the stair railing. I could always count on Jeff to run from trouble, even if it meant leaving me in it.
    “Yeah, I’m fine,” I said, finally.
    Then, I was quiet. Jeff found the stool again in the meantime and slid back onto it. Then, we sat there, wallowing in our own thoughts for a reflective minute.
    “I probably should have told you that you were never going to win Jessica that way either,” I eventually confessed.
    Jeff’s eyes fell to the floor, and he shook his head.
    “You always get the good ones,” he said, starting to crack a smile.
    He looked back up at me and then raised the glass of water he had been holding in his hand.
    “Here’s to moving on,” he said.
    I stared at him for a second, then picked up the bottle of soda that sat in front of me and brought it to his glass.
    “To moving,” I said, with a heavy half-smile.

Chapter Eighteen
    The Call
     
     
    I cradled my phone in the palm of my hand. There was only one light on—a small lamp. Otherwise, the room was dark. Lately, the station seemed to be the only place where I could concentrate—and maybe that was because I had no memory of Jules being there.
    I used my finger to scroll through the contacts in my phone. Her number was still on speed dial—number two —only because one was already assigned to voicemail. But tonight, I skipped the speed