A Song for Butterflies

Chapter 1: She Was Here One Minute

There are two types of people in this world. First, celebrities. The actors, politicians, reality tv stars, artists...the singers. Even the high school football players, cheerleaders, and the token bad boy we all love to hate. They are the people that seem untouchable, the ones we feel thankful just to know exist and are content to watch live the lives we wish we could from a distance.

And then there are the rest of us.

I was immune to the high school celebrities, content with the one and only boy I wanted. To most, he was nameless. To me, he was thoughtful, and lovely, and passionate about his guitar and about lyrics that meant something. But boys like that don't stay nameless for long. And then he was gone.

***

"That was...amazing," Sophie says as we emerge from the Celebrity Theater, the crowd flowing out from behind us and dispersing into the night. "I know I'm not supposed to say anything, but it was."

I pull my sweater tighter around me to protect myself from the cool winter night--the coldest we can expect all year in Phoenix.

"Yeah, it was," I have to admit. It was amazing for so many reasons that I can't express just one. To avoid egging Sophie on, I keep them to myself.

"I've never gone to a concert in such a small theater. You could almost reach out and touch him on that stage. And, I know it sounds ridiculous, but sometimes it felt like he was singing right to me. Well, you know what I mean."

She laughs, oblivious to the overwhelming longing that pushed every other thought out of my mind the moment he walked onstage. Sophie has fallen under his spell too, but her perceptions aren't ridiculous. There were times I felt like he was singing to me too. Except in my case, it might have been true. The love songs used to be about me. Maybe the heartbreak ones were too.

"Do you think he knew you were there?" she asks.

I shake my head. "Why would he? It's been three years."

People continue to file out--talking, laughing, smiling, and all because of a man they know as River. I find myself slowing as we approach the parking lot.

"You should ask to see him. Get backstage passes or something," Sophie says.

I grin and roll my eyes at Sophie's unshakeable optimism. "Why would they just give me backstage passes?"

"Because you know him."

"No I don't," I say. "I used to."

But I'm stuck, unable to step off the curb, walk out to my car and drive away when I'm closer to him now than I have been since that November day when we said goodbye. Even if I could get to Security and send a message to him, would he see me? I was the one who broke his heart. I am the girl people write sad love songs about. I am the girl who writes sad love songs about him.

"The tour bus hasn't left," Sophie says enthusiastically, and I feel her tugging on my sleeve.

"Maybe he hasn't gotten on it yet."

I pretend I'm not interested, but I let her drag me around the outside of the theater, seemingly in slow motion, my heart pounding harder with every step we take. I would utter words of discouragement if I could find my breath.

"There," she says. "That's the door."

We reach the black iron gates that separate the celebrity world and ours. I place my hands on the bars and wait for an eternity, watching crew go in and out, almost sure that he left in another bus long before we got here, until the door opens and he steps down from the heavens, here to our level. He is a walking music video. Dark hair, stylishly tousled. Smokey eyes that used to hold mystery for everyone but me. A stride worthy of the rock star he's become.

"Nate." His name escapes me out of shock before I've had time to think it through. And he hears me. He looks right at me, stops walking. His expression reveals nothing as he looks me over and I search for the right thing to say. But nothing else comes to my lips and without another word, he turns from me and disappears onto the bus.

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