My Butterfly

big smile edged its way across my face. I was pretty sure I thought the wider I smiled, the less my heart would race.
    “Hello,” I said into the mic.
    Suddenly, the hum of the small crowd hushed.
    “Hello,” I said again, once the room was quiet. “How are ya?”
    A few people clapped. One person whistled.
    I swiveled around slightly, being careful to keep my lips near the mic, and glanced back at the band.
    “We’re, uh, District 9,” I said.
    Then, I turned back toward the crowd and the lights, trying my best not to squint my eyes.
    “We’re really, uh, firefighters, so even if you don’t like our songs, feel free to clap anyway,” I said, softly laughing into the mic. “You’d be doing some goodwill for the St. Louis Fire Department that way.”
    It took a second, but soon, a soft buzz, followed by enthusiastic applause, filled the little room. I let go of a wide smile then, and it instantly shot across my face. Then, I stepped back from the microphone and lowered my eyes to my guitar as Daniel started in on his drums. Immediately, I felt my hands fall into place on the guitar’s strings, and I brought my lips close to the microphone again. The old melody was already taking me back to when I was a kid in the back of my grandpa’s store singing my lungs out to the same song, and it helped to crush my nerves.
    Soon after, I got the first words out, and the rest came easy. Then, the second song felt like a rush as this strange, adrenaline-like stuff shot through my spine. I had barely noticed that a line of people, mostly girls, were now pressed up against the side of the stage, dancing and singing. Every so often, I would look down to see if I could find Julia in one of their faces. I knew that she wasn’t there, but that didn’t stop me from trying anyway.
    We finished the last song scribbled on the list before I knew it. And I let my guitar hang from its strap, as I grabbed the microphone’s stand with both hands.
    “Thanks so much,” I said. “You guys were kind.”
    There was a loud applause, and I paused and smiled.
    “Again, we’re District 9, and remember to change those batteries in your smoke detectors,” I said into the mic.
    I heard laughter in the crowd, then more applause. And then, the stage went dark again. I narrowed my eyes trying to get them to readjust faster. I could barely see a thing again.
    Still squinting, I turned and caught Matt’s figure first. He was smiling. Then, I looked over at Chris and Daniel. They had wide grins planted on their faces too.
    “Well done, boys,” Matt finally said. “Well done.”
    ...
    Daniel, Chris and I were busy packing up the last of the gear into Chris’s SUV when Matt came over to us and leaned his head near ours.
    “So, listen, guys, my buddy said that he’s got a friend who needs a band next week,” he said. “You guys in?”
    Daniel and Chris looked at each other and then at me.
    I shrugged my shoulders.
    “Sure,” I said.
    “See, what did I tell you, Matt?” Daniel shouted. “I knew you’d find us another gig.”
    “Can you guys be at my house on Sunday?” Matt asked. “We’ve got to practice. This place is bigger, and I think we should do Will’s song.”
    We all looked at each other and nodded our heads.
    “Sunday it is,” Chris shouted, as he let out an excited howl.

Chapter Twenty-One
    The Card
     
     
    W eekly gigs kind of became a usual occurrence. I wasn’t quite sure even how it had all unfolded exactly. One day, I woke up, and it just was. I was a firefighter most days, and I played in a band on the others. It made me laugh to think about it because it all seemed as if it were a dream—not like a career dream but like a real dream, as if I were actually sleeping while we were playing on some small stage in some other part of town. I was always waiting for a big, pink elephant to fly across the room or for a squirrel in the crowd to ask me why I was naked on stage or something. It felt like that kind of dream. I enjoyed it though. I seldom admitted it, even to myself. But when I was sitting alone on my little bed in the station, I thought about it. And I thought about if maybe sometime we got a gig in Columbia that I might see Julia. I always pictured her in the front row, with a happy smile on her face. I thought about that sometimes.
    I picked up a cord leading to the stage and started wrapping it around my arm. I hardly got it wrapped around my elbow twice when a voice stopped me.
    “Hi, Jesse