My Butterfly

Chapter Twenty-Six Haunting

“Julia.”

I stopped suddenly and slowly set the can of chili back onto the shelf. The voice had come from an aisle over. I rushed to the end of the row, stopped and took a quick check of myself. I looked pretty rough, but what could I do now? I took off my cap and refit it over my head again. Then, I sauntered casually into the aisle, as if I were looking hard for something. And when I couldn’t take it anymore — several seconds later — I looked up and spotted a woman and a young girl. My heart sank.

“Hi, Will,” the woman said.

“Ms. Evans,” I said, tipping my baseball cap.

She smiled at me and then glanced at the girl next to her.

“Oh, Will, I don’t think you’ve ever really met my daughter,” she said. “Sweetie, this is Will. He’s the firefighter that came to our house that one time.”

The girl blankly eyed me. I could tell she didn’t remember me. She was only a little girl back then.

“Will, this is my daughter, Julia,” the woman continued.

I swallowed hard.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

The girl smiled wide, though she seemed a little nervous. I watched as she tossed her hands behind her back and then tried to shove them into her pockets before finally crossing her arms in front of her. I guessed she was maybe in junior high or some age around it.

My eyes eventually traveled back to the woman.

“How have you been?” I asked.

“Oh, great,” she said.

She moved closer to me and squeezed the part of my arm near my bicep.

“You’ve been stayin’ safe, right?” she asked.

Her eyes seemed more like they were commanding something rather than asking it.

I smiled and nodded.

“Good,” she said, releasing my bicep and continuing down the aisle. “Tell your mom I said ‘hi.’”

“I will,” I said, softly, as my eyes turned down to the white tiles on the floor.

I took a deep breath in and then let it out before I looked up again. The girl was still there, and she flashed me another wide smile.

I smiled back, then tipped my cap and hastily made my way down the aisle, past the registers and out the doors. I didn’t stop until I was back in my truck.

Once I was behind the wheel, I grabbed it with both hands. I wanted to curse as loud as I could, but I didn’t. I knew enough to know that the walls had ears, as did my sixth-grade teacher putting groceries into her trunk two cars down from mine.

I fought for my keys inside my jeans pocket, and after a brief struggle, shoved one into the ignition.

She wasn’t just a name attached to a face — although, I was pretty sure she was never just that. But even so, now she was also a memory, the worst kind of memory — the kind that pulled you to your knees at just the sound of her name.

I backed Lou out of the spot faster than I should have and sped out of the parking lot. And I sped all the way to my house and eventually landed in the driveway. Jeff’s truck was already there. I sighed and made my way into the house.

“You’re out of chili,” Jeff informed me when I entered the room. “And everything else. Are you hiding all your food from me at your apartment in St. Louis?”

He was lounging on a chair in the living room; his legs were sprawled out over its arms. I didn’t answer him. Instead, I charged straight through the house and out the back door.

Within seconds, I reached the two, wooden lawn chairs at the edge of the lake and fell into one. Then, I immediately threw my elbows to my knees and used my hands to bury my face.

Minutes went by, though it had felt like hours, before I heard Jeff’s voice behind me.

“Uh, hey, man.”

I cocked my head to the side and glanced up at him. Then, I sat back and let my eyes fall onto the lake.

“You all right?” he asked, still hovering over me.

I listened to him fumble around behind me and eventually find a seat in the chair next to mine. Jeff was never really good in situations like this, and I really wasn’t in the mood.

“I, uh, looked at Lou, and I’m guessin’ ya didn’t hit a deer,” he said, sheepishly. “And I, uh, checked your refrigerator. I didn’t leave your milk out again.”

I angled my face slightly toward his again.

“And your dad called, so I answered it, and he just wanted me to remind you that you’re supposed to help him with that barbeque tomorrow at the store,” he said. “So, I figured, it didn’t have anything to do with your family.”

There was silence for a moment as I studied him with a puzzled look plastered across my face.

“You did all that in the little time that I was out here?” I asked.

He shrugged his shoulders.

I chuckled to myself and returned my eyes to the lake.

“It’s not any of those things,” I said.

There was a quiet pause.

“Then what is it?” he asked, in a way that made me think he believed there couldn’t possibly be anything else that was “wrong” with me.

I took a deep breath and then tossed it back out into the soft breeze.

“It’s Julia,” I said and then sighed.

He sat up in his chair.

“What about her? You know she’s back in town, right?” he asked.

I slowly bobbed my head.

“I know,” I said. “I know.”

He was quiet for a second again.

“Oh,” he said, finally.

His word was short and sad.

I glanced back at him. And I couldn’t help but smile.

“Oh what?” I asked.

He shot me an impatient look.

“Well, do you or do you not still have a thing for her?” he asked, staring back at me with big eyes.

I held my own stare on him for several seconds before I picked up a flat rock, swung my arm back and then skipped the rock onto the water. It bounced several times on the lake’s surface before it eventually dived into the lake and disappeared.

“Well, why don’t you just go tell her you still like her?” he asked.

I looked him in the eyes.

“Why don’t you go tell Jessica that you like her?” I asked.

His face turned sour, and he shifted his weight in his chair.

“It’s not easy for me like it is for you,” he said.

I furrowed my eyebrows at him. I shouldn’t have known what he had meant by that, but because I knew Jeff, sadly I did. Everything was harder in Jeff’s world, apparently.

I found another rock and sent it flying onto the surface of the lake.

“Besides, the last thing I knew, she was still with that doctor,” I said.

“Wait, he’s a doctor?” he asked.

“He might as well be,” I said.

“So what?” Jeff asked. “You had her first.”

I laughed.

“Buddy, I wish it worked that way,” I said. “Plus, if she wants one of those types, maybe she should have it. The heart wants what the heart wants, right?”

I glanced back at Jeff. He was shaking his head, and it seemed as though he was frowning.

“Well, maybe she’ll get bored of him,” he said.

I laughed again.

“Jeff, girls don’t just wake up one day and say, ‘You know what? I’m tired of all these nice things and smart people. I want to go live in a one-horse town with a guy who leaves her with guys like you every time his belt starts singin’.’”

I eyed Jeff. He only shrugged his shoulders, so I kept going.

“‘And you know what? I’ve suddenly discovered that I love the smell of ashes. Instead of nice cologne, I want a guy who comes home every night smellin’ like ashes,’” I said.

Jeff was making his you-got-a-point face by the time I had finished.

I sighed and skipped another rock across the lake.

“But she’s not just any girl, Will,” Jeff said, sheepishly.

I turned in my chair and looked back at him, and suddenly, I felt a smile fighting its way to my face.

“You know, you’re not always very good at giving advice,” I admitted to him, patting his knee. “But every once in a while, you are.”

He gave me a proud, goofy smile, and I sat back in my chair and locked my gaze onto the water.

“You’re right, Jeff,” I said, smiling. “She’s not just any girl.”