Lady Butterfly

Dressed in black on a cold, dreary day, the handsome athletic sleuth creeps down the street. He follows at a safe distance so as not to give himself up to the golden beauty weaving through the crowded street. He’s gaining on her. Soon he’ll spin her around and reveal the truth she hides. She starts to turn; he ducks in a doorway.  BLEEP BLEEP BLEEP! My hand fumbles for the off button as the alarm succeeds in rudely waking me. Today is the day I’m going to follow her. I psych myself up and jump out of bed. Every day, for the past two months, as I work remotely and watch out my front window, I see the same woman glide past. She passes by about the same time each day.  I can count on seeing her rain or shine. She is always headed in the same direction. She never makes a return trip going in the opposite direction. Her actions have me stumped. I won’t say she looks suspicious but let’s say she intrigues me. What intrigues me, you might ask? She is striking. Her eyes dazzle without ever meeting my own. She exhibits a plethora of disguises. I suspect her incognito mode is hiding her true self. One day she wears a hat with sunglasses. Another she hides deep within a hooded coat. The next day she is wearing a wig with a different hair color. How do I know it is the same woman?   It’s her! I can tell by her walk and the way she shiftily looks around without looking around. She’s up to something. She’s hiding something. She has a story. I’m not sure what the story is but I’m determined to find out. I’ve made the decision to follow her today on my day off.  If she can be incognito, I can be incognito too. This should be interesting. I need an adventure. 

I have my coat and hat at the ready, sunglasses too. Remember, incognito! As soon as Lady Butterfly, the fictious name I’ve given her, flits past the window, I will be going out the door. I know enough to keep a safe distance, thanks to the detective shows I binge on TV. I am pumped and prepared for this mission of mine. I am about to embark on an unknown journey. Perhaps the unknown is the best part of the intrigue. Most days I am scratching my head imagining all the places she visits or the errands she checks off her list. Suddenly the moment is upon me. There she is, head held high, legs moving fast. She zips right past the window.  I almost trip headfirst into the closed front door. I pull it open and out the door I stumble, trying to look calm and inconspicuous. I pick up the pace and act like a stealth plane as I start tailing her down the street.  I try to be nonchalant and almost end up in the neighbor’s bushes after tripping on the uneven sidewalk. I tell myself to pull it together if I expect to accomplish anything by secretly spying on this stranger who has become a part of my daily life. Up ahead she is stopped at the corner waiting for cars to pass before crossing. I slow my pace so as not to run into her. Heaven forbid I have to smile or make eye contact while waiting to cross the street together. I fumble with my phone, pausing to pretend I am checking a text. Ah, and she is moving again. As I arrive at the same corner, I dart out to beat an oncoming car and am awarded a sharp “toot” of the horn. My ability to draw attention to myself is increasing exponentially.  Up ahead Lady Butterfly turns her head to glance backwards. I quickly look away so as not to make eye contact. I do not want her to make me; especially in a line-up if you know what I mean. I decide to drop further behind by pretending to tie my shoe. I look up in time to see her slip into the Quick Mart. Her first stop. Let’s see if there are any clues for me. I hear a melodious voice say, “Hi Joe. How’s your Tuesday?” Joe? She knows the clerk? Oh, of course, she knows the clerk. This must be a daily stop for her (thumps head). I duck into the entry way of the Wash n Dry next door. I’ll bide my time hiding out here. Oops! There she goes. Off again. She has a coffee in her hand. I grab my small little notebook and jot down First Stop. Joe. Coffee. I mutter to myself, “So suspicious.” Away I go after my little butterfly. The sidewalk traffic picks up and I almost lose her when she makes a quick right at the corner ahead. When I turn the corner, she is nowhere to be found. What? I’ve lost her already. How can that be. I know she turned here. Aha! She’s in the bakery chatting gayly with the clerk. They look as if they are covertly sharing secret information. Hmm, I make a note to come back later and check out this shady character who smiles too greedily at my butterfly. Notebook in all caps: BAKERY GUY - CHECK HIM OUT!! She is on the move once again with a small bag clasped in her hand. Out the door she squeezes past others going inside. I’m on my toes keeping up with this flit-about person I surreptitiously follow. Next, I see her bent down hovering over a puffy little furball of a dog. It bounces on its tiny paws obviously happy to see her. I can relate, little fella. I hear that sing-song voice again telling furball he’s a good boy, blowing kisses at him as she propels forward down the street. I blink and almost miss Butterfly ducking into an alley. Here it is. This is the sinister thing I suspected about her. What can take place in an alley other than shenanigans. I peek my head around the building to spy what I can see down this cobble-stoned passageway. Low and behold, she’s luring a cat from behind a trash bin. I hear a friendly “meow”, and then this cat weaves through her legs, purring with eyes closed dreamily. Is there anyone’s heart Butterfly does not melt? Before I can shake my head in amazement, she’s heading back towards me. Yikes! I flatten myself against the brick façade hoping she did not spot me peeking after her. She’s moving at a good pace as she blows right past me and up the street. I wipe the sweat from my brow and carry on. We enter a quiet street with warm, welcoming porches. Suddenly she slows down, waves and calls out, “Hi Peggy. How is your Tuesday?” Peggy responds with something I can’t quite hear. Then Butterfly yells, “I’ll tell my mom you said Hello. Thank you for thinking of her. She improves every day.” I pull out my notebook and jot down: Peggy, lady in the big blue house on Oak Street. I hustle to close the distance I’ve allowed to separate me and my er, umm, what is she to me? I suddenly feel awkward and realize I am stalking a complete stranger. What have I become? Who am I? I start to flounder about and question my motive. I turn as if to go back home. My curiosity gets the best of me, and I want to continue this stakeout I’ve started. As I turn back around to continue following this butterfly of mine, I run smack into…OOF…her! My mind is whirling. I catch her as she starts to fall. I stumble over my big feet and drag us both down together on the lawn. We grapple about a bit then get our bearings. We look at each other. She is the first to laugh and I follow quickly. We are a sight, the two of us. Her coffee has landed 2 feet away. The bakery bag is still clenched in her hand. A good save if ever I saw one. She stands first and offers her free hand to pull me up. I shyly dust myself off and accept the offered hand. She sends me a smile that almost knocks me back to the ground. Her mischievous eyes tell tales I’ve been longing to hear. One look reveals the playfulness that defines her soul. This is the mystery I have been watching day after day. She has stolen my heart moment by moment with her daily fluttering movements past my view.  I think this moment in time was meant to be for both of us. She is speaking but I cannot quite make out what she is saying over the blood rushing through my ears. I manage to come to as she sticks out her hand and says, “Are you okay? You looked like you were about to pass out for a minute. I’m Alice. Nice to meet you.” I take her hand for the second time in less than a minute (it’s so soft and warm and strong – oh get it together man!) and I say, “I’m Nick. Nice to meet you and sorry about the coffee (oh you idiot, the coffee really?).” She smiles as she picks up the spilled cup and responds with, “It was almost gone anyway. Hey, you can buy me a coffee some other day.” I’m dazed yet manage to respond, “Sure I would love to buy you a coffee someday (and every other day until the end of time).” She stands there for a moment and then starts to turn. In my mind she fades away and I envision kicking myself in the backside except I manage to say, “How would one contact you to repay you for that coffee someday.” I see the flashy smile before anything else as she looks sideways at me. She asks if I have anything to write on and I panic. Yes, I have something to write on but it’s my detective notebook in my pocket. EGADS! I’m such an idiot! “Never mind”, she says, “give me your phone.” I open my phone and hand it to her. As quickly as she took it, she hands it back.  As she turns and walks away, she calls over her shoulder, “Call me tomorrow when you see me walk past your window. I thought you’d never follow me.”