My Butterfly

Chapter Fourteen Schemes

“Will, 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, above-mentioned girl sees that you’re a toolbag because you’re still in love with your ex-girlfriend. Then, I look like a saint — next to you, of course. Ergo, I win. You win. We both win.”

“Wait,” I said. “Julia’s coming?”

I sat up and watched him walk back into the kitchen.

“Yeah, she’s coming,” he said, opening the refrigerator door again.

“How do you know that?” I asked.

My questions for Jeff, nine out of ten times, were laced with suspicion. I could never tell if he actually knew what he was talking about or if he was just flapping his jaw.

“What?” he asked.

“How do you know Julia’s coming?” I asked again.

He popped his head up from behind the refrigerator door.

“Oh, I think Rachel mentioned it last week or something,” he said and then buried his head back into the refrigerator again.

I sat back in the chair.

“You never ended up calling her, right?” he asked.

“What?” I asked.

“Julia,” he said. “You never called her? She hasn’t called you? You guys are still broken up?”

I half came out of my trance and nodded my head.

“Yeah, I…,” I stuttered. “What if I call her, and she says the same thing? I don’t know if I could hear that again. And I still don’t know what I could say to change her mind. I don’t know. She sounded sad, but she wants…”

I looked up and found Jeff giving me a blank stare.

“She’ll call,” I said, giving up and turning back toward the television’s screen.

“Yeah,” he said. “She’ll call after you show up to the party with Jessica.”

I shook my head and started flipping through the stations. I assumed Jessica was the name of the girl he couldn’t stop talking about.

“I’m not doing it, Jeff,” I said.

I watched from out of the corner of my eye Jeff sprawl his skinny, lanky body across the couch.

“So, Julia is going to be there,” I mumbled to myself.

Jeff ignored me, but I expected him to. I methodically flipped through the channels looking for a game, knowing full well that the only place my mind could possibly be was on Jules and on how much I missed her.