Butterflies
Original writing: October 2015Uploaded: March 2021
"Eeeeeee... moooove!"
I feel two soft hands push me slowly away, and I don't fight back.
I regretfully roll on my back as my arm slides away from the one I love.
"Don't hug me like that, you're not a needy person."
Staring at the ceiling, I sigh.
"No, of course not..."
I feel a lump forming in my throat.
There isn't much light in the room, nor much noise.
All I hear is the sound of soft breathing.
I slowly reach out towards her, wanting to pet her hair, smell her, feel her.
I stop myself.
I am not needy.
The lump in my throat fades as I sit up in bed.
The cold air sends a shiver through my body, and I take a moment to gather enough willpower to get out of bed.
Distracted, I start putting on some clothes, trying to get out of the cold.
Once fully dressed, I reach for the door to leave, but pause and look back.
The sight of her beautiful night-colored hair and her cute nose makes me want to stay.
Stay...
I feel the lump return to my throat. I hurry out the door.
Sometimes I wonder if she's really happy.
She doesn't have to work.
We live in a beautiful beach house.
We have a personal chef cook for us every weekend.
She can travel wherever she wants, and occasionally I can even join her.
I have the material side covered, but...
"Good morning, Admiral!"
I quickly snap into a military salute. All thoughts leave my mind as I stand, unmoving, in my driveway.
"Always nice to see you, Captain!"
"Thank you, sir!"
I lower my salute, smiling, as my personal driver - 'Captain' - leans forward and points to his face.
"Chilly morning, but the cold is no match... for my mustache!"
I chuckle as he opens the door to my car and I climb into the backseat.
He always makes me laugh. It's refreshing.
The ride to work is quiet.
I stare out the window at the various storefronts and people bustling about.
The lump in my throat shows up again.
I feel my driver glancing at me, but I avoid any real conversation.
I just want to be alone right now.
Work is a blur.
Lunchtime - I want to talk with Joey.
He usually knows what to say in these situations.
I pass by him in the hall and try to start a conversation, but someone interrupts me and I completely lose Joey's attention.
Needed elsewhere, I reluctantly leave.
Why do I even need Joey anyway?
I don't know. But this ball in my stomach is only getting worse.
I get home, quietly shut the door and put my things away.
I hear humming in the shower.
I start following the sound, but hesitate.
Would she be happy to see me?
I walk slowly the bedroom.
As I come across a mirror, I take a good look at myself.
Slumped shoulders, frown.
My eyes... Lost?
My brow furrows.
I heave a sigh and drop myself down onto the bed.
I curl up to try to hold myself together.
I think of this morning, her comment about me not being needy.
My stomach knots into a bowling ball.
My mind wanders to Joey - to the things I would have told him.
I imagine him systematically laying out my life before me, giving me the answers I so desperately need.
I imagine a scene where I hug him, shake his hand in appreciation.
Then I’d get home, press her forehead against mine and close my eyes.
I’d hug her, with enough force to snap a thick log of wood but with enough care that we would instead merge and become one.
I would kiss her and tell her everything and anything, knowing that nothing I could ever say would stop our love.
I die in that scene, unwilling to let her go until my heart beats for the last time.
A tear slides down my cheek.
I feel her arm gently wrap around me from behind, her warm hand softly wiping away my tears.
The knot in my stomach unravels and turns into butterflies.