My Butterfly

we?” he asked.
    I nodded my head.
    I watched his eyes travel to the lunch bag he had been holding in his hands. He turned it over a couple of times and then looked up.
    “Sometimes, you just have to let go,” he said. “She’ll come back, when she’s ready.”
    I sat there for a second in silence. Then, he reached over, patted me on the shoulder and chuckled.
    “Happiness is like a butterfly,” he said. “The more you chase it, the more it will elude you. But if you turn your attention to other things, it will come and sit softly on your shoulder.”
    By the time he had finished, my eyebrows were in a heap at the center of my forehead.
    “It’s Thoreau,” he said, chuckling some more. “Didn’t you ever learn that in school?”
    I laughed.
    “Can’t say I did, sir,” I admitted.
    A moment passed, and my smile started to fade.
    “Does that really work—the whole letting go and coming back thing?” I asked.
    His eyes fell to the tiles on the floor before they found my stare again.
    “Some of us spend our entire lives hoping it does,” he said. “And for some of us lucky ones, it does. But, boy, I have a good feeling that for you, it’ll work. Just be patient.”
    I smiled and lowered my head again as he got up and scooted the chair back to its place against the wall.
    “And don’t do anything stupid in the meantime,” he said over his shoulder as he made his way to the door again.
    “No,” I said, shaking my head. “I’ll try not to, sir.”
    “Oh, and by the way,” he said, stopping at the doorway, “didn’t you just get some big, fancy job on the department in St. Louis?”
    I smiled.
    “Yes, sir,” I replied.
    “That’s no small feat,” he said, shaking his head. “But if you’d ask me, I’d say they got the better deal. You’re a damn good firefighter, Stephens.”
    My eyes traveled to the floor.
    “Thanks, sir,” I said.
    “And Will,” he said.
    I looked up again.
    “Turn some lights on. You’re going to end up lookin’ like me by the time you’re thirty,” he said, smiling and tugging on his glasses.
    “Yes, sir,” I said.
    My stare remained on the dark doorway for a few seconds, even after the chief had disappeared through it. Then, eventually, I lowered my eyes to my phone’s screen again, and I retraced the letters I had formed just minutes ago. Slowly then, I watched each one disappear as I backspaced the message out of the phone and repeated the chief’s words in my head: Just be patient.

Chapter Nineteen
    The Band
     
     
    “H ey, so Will, I heard you can sing?” I heard a voice call out.
    I looked up and saw Matt charging toward me.
    “Where’d you hear that?” I asked.
    “Through the grapevine, I guess,” he said, panting and stopping in front of me.
    “Geez, Matt, you ran five steps,” I said, starting to laugh.
    “I know,” he casually said. “I didn’t warm up first.”
    I smiled at him and went back to working on the hose.
    “So, this band canceled at this bar my friend manages in The Loop,” he continued. “And he can’t get anybody last minute, so I said maybe we could do it.”
    I stopped and looked up at him again from where I was kneeling.
    “We?” I asked.
    “Yeah, Daniel plays the drums; Chris plays the bass; and I play the keys,” he said. “We get together every once in a while, but our singer’s always been a floater. None of us can sing.”
    He laughed and handed me a screwdriver. I cautiously took it, as I judged his face.
    “Listen, I know you’re new to the station and St. Louis and all, so if you don’t want to, that’s okay too,” he added. “We’re getting together to run through some songs tomorrow night at eight at my house. If you’re there, great. If not, I’ve gotta a guy who I know will do it.”
    I watched him cup his hand around his mouth.
    “He’s just, you know, a filler—not the best songbird in the cage,” he said.
    He dropped his hand then and picked up a wrench.
    “Just think about it, and let me know,” he said, ambling back toward the door again.
    “I’ve heard you’ve got some talent, Will,” he called out over his shoulder. “You’ll be doing us a big favor, and who knows, maybe you’ll have some fun.”
    He smiled a wide grin and then disappeared into the breakroom.
    I kept my eyes on the breakroom door, just in case he reappeared again to tell me that he was pulling my leg or something. Seconds drew on, though, and he never returned.
    “Where’d he hear