Butterflies Are Free, but Calls Are $4.99 a Minute

What is it with those gift boxes of salt water taffy, you know, the mixed variety kind they sell as souvenirs, that the yellow ones are never banana flavored? They’re invariably lemon, which is a good flavor I guess. Lemon’s just not banana. Still, I keep buying those boxes, hoping I’ll be surprised.

So, the wedding was beautiful and creative, and it reflected the happy couple’s personalities perfectly. It was on the beach. The sun was shining, and the bride walked down the aisle to “All You Need is Love” by The Beatles. Then, the bar was open, so everyone had a great time. I was suffering from a bout with the flu, so I didn't make it past the toasts...


The following morning was chilly. I had coffee out on the deck with the mother of the groom, a sweet, funny lady from South Philly. We had spent the morning before doing the same thing having bumped into each other in the lobby at six o’clock when so few people are up wandering around. We even ended up at the same table for dinner at the reception, too. She is a darling older Italian woman and has the neatest personality. She’s got moxie. I think that’s a good way to describe her.

Anyway, we’re talking about this and that when a Monarch butterfly flits past.

“Oh, look at that butterfly,” Moxie says. “I hear that if you see a white butterfly someone wants to see you.”

“That one was orange,” I point out.

“I know that. I’m just saying,” she says.

“So, what does it mean when you see an orange one?” I ask.

She just laughs and says, "I know that when your nose itches, it means you're going to get into a fight."

When I get up to leave, I tell her I’m heading out for the airport.

“It was a real pleasure to meet you,” she says, and grabs one of my hands, kissing it. “Oh, like ice! I hope we see each other again.”

I smile at her and say, “Send me a white butterfly. I’ll come find you.”


It was an easy flight home. I did the normal coming home things, unpacked and started laundry, picked up the dog from the kennel, and checked my house phone for messages. And that’s when things went slightly loopy. I had an obscene message on my voice mail. Not just any kind of obscene message. I got full-on porn. Free.

Now, in the past, when I’ve gotten these kinds of phone calls, I’m actually answering the phone, and the caller is a stranger and wants the call to be participatory. I always oblige by throwing out a statement like, “Shouldn’t you start with a better opening than just heavy breathing? You could work up to it at least.” Because, really, they should at least say something, give me a heads up, before getting down to business. Just my opinion.

And, the calls that are repeated hang-ups and go on for weeks usually end up being from a guy I went out with once or twice or a guy I went out with ages ago, and they’re just trying to find an opening. It’s harmless. Or it has been for me, at least. Luckily, since the advent of caller id and cell phones, it’s almost impossible to stalk anyone anonymously anymore.

So, whoever wanted to share their experience with me, called me at 4:13 am on a Saturday morning and still had the wherewithal at that hour to mark their call “private.” Honestly, I don’t think I have the wherewithal at four o’clock in the morning to even be having sex, let alone mark my call private and dial while I’m doing it. I feel like maybe I should applaud. Of course, the message was only nine seconds long, so I guess my condolences would be more appropriate.

Still, it’s very strange. It wasn’t kids playing a prank. The voices belonged to adults. There was no funky 70’s porno backbeat to indicate that it was a recording played for my benefit. But it so clearly was done for my benefit. Who knows? It was definitely a surprise.

I’d still prefer that my surprise had been finding a banana-flavored piece of salt water taffy in that souvenir box, though.