My Butterfly

by before a woman’s voice poured through the speaker and asked me if I was satisfied with my message. I took a second and stared into the phone’s screen. Then, I pressed a number on its dial pad.
    I heard the woman’s voice again: “If you would like to delete your message and rerecord, press three.”
    My finger hovered over the keypad and then finally forced down a number.
    “Your message has been deleted,” the woman’s voice said.
    I threw the phone at the passenger’s seat and slammed my palm hard against the steering wheel. Then, I took a deep breath and tried to swallow years’ worth of regret. Knives stabbed at my chest, and I felt a warm liquid collecting behind my eyes as I collapsed onto the wheel. It had been so long, and now, I felt as if I were falling apart at the seams. What if she didn’t come back? What if she didn’t remember her promise? What if I had already lost her? I hated those thoughts, but in reality, none of them compared to the thought of losing her twice.

Chapter Thirty-Five
    Even
     
     
    I opened the screen door and let it swing back into its place behind me as I stepped into the tiny bar. There was music playing on an old juke box, as usual, and the place smelled of burgers and fried food—as usual.
    “Hey, Annie,” I said, when I planted my feet at the bar.
    “Oh, hey, Will.”
    The round woman in her late fifties turned and glanced up at me.
    “I’ve got your cheeseburger comin’ right up,” she said.
    I smiled at the woman, then turned my attention to the rest of the bar. The room was dimly lit. It always was.
    “Hey, man,” Ben called out from behind the bar. “You off tonight?”
    “Yeah,” I said. “Is Rachel here? I saw her car outside.”
    Ben’s eyes locked on mine.
    “She’s not the only one here, buddy,” he said, so quietly I almost didn’t hear him over the music.
    I followed his stare to the other side of the room. Then, I saw her. Her face was cast down. I didn’t know if she had seen me. I felt my heart jump, and I grabbed the edge of the bar top as my eyes wondered back to Ben.
    “I’ll, uh…,” I said, not even bothering to finish my sentence, as I nodded and took my first step toward her.
    Each step after that was like a small journey in itself. My feet were heavy. I couldn’t get to her fast or slow enough. I wanted time to think of what to say, but I also just wanted to get to her.
    “Jules,” I said, right before I reached her.
    Her name just fell off my tongue, absent of any real brain function, I was sure.
    “What? When? How have ya been?” I asked.
    I felt the words pile up in my mouth and then just stumble off my lips.
    She stood up from the table, and I leaned in and then wrapped her up into my arms.
    “I got in today,” she said.
    I pulled away and held her shoulders in my palms. She was smiling. It seemed as if there were something behind her smile, but bottom line, she was smiling, and it made me smile too.
    I pulled her close again and squeezed her body against mine for another several seconds. It was probably out of character, but damn it, I didn’t even know how to act normal around her anymore.
    I spotted Rachel out of the corner of my eye and then slowly released Julia.
    “Hey, Rach. How are ya?” I asked, turning my attention to Rachel for a few seconds.
    “Good, Will,” she said. “Doing well. Jon says ‘hi,’ by the way.”
    “Where’s he tonight?” I asked her.
    “Hunting trip,” she said. “Canada. Needless to say, I sat that one out.”
    Her eyebrows arched to the ceiling of the tiny bar, and then, a sound from the juke box made me stop. I met Julia’s eyes again. They were already smiling.
    “You want to dance…for old times’ sake?” I asked.
    I watched her glance back at Rachel.
    Rachel found her stare and then found Ben on the other side of the room.
    “Ben, get your two, left feet over here and ask me to dance,” Rachel shouted.
    Ben looked up from the juke box and smiled in Rachel’s direction.
    “You two, go ahead and catch up,” Rachel said, gesturing toward the small dance floor.
    Julia looked back at me and smiled. I put out my hand, and she met it with hers.
    “If I had known you were going to be here, I would have put on a clean shirt and shaved and maybe worn some of that deodorant stuff,” I said, grinning wide.
    She smiled that little, bashful smile of hers.
    “You look great,” she said.
    “So do you, Jules,” I said.
    I watched her face angle toward the