Fly, Butterfly

by Annicken R. Day

  “Thank you, Miss Williams,” Jorge said politely and closed the door.

  I sat up in bed. I still hadn’t checked my cell phone. When I got back to the room last night, I was starving, so I ordered a pizza, but fell asleep in the tub before I ate it. Thank goodness I’d stayed away from the wine. Normally, after a day like yesterday, I would have drowned my frustration in alcohol. But after spending time with Josh on the beach, I had actually felt calmer and more balanced than I had felt in a long time.

  It was time to get up. The bathrobe from last night was still wet, but there was a spare one in the bathroom. I wrapped it around me and walked over to the table and took a quick bite of the cold pizza. Yuck. It tasted like paper. There was an electric kettle and some instant coffee on the desk in the corner, so I prepared myself a cup of coffee, still moving slowly.

  I was procrastinating, trying to postpone the inevitable, but I finally had to admit to myself that the grim circumstances waiting for me weren’t going anywhere.

  “Get a grip, Maya,” I said out loud and walked decisively across the room, rummaged through my leather briefcase, and retrieved my cell phone from the bottom of it.

  I took a deep breath and quickly scanned my call history. Seventy-seven missed calls and thirty new text messages. I quickly browsed through the texts. Three of them were from Alistair Parker.

  “OK, here we go,” I said with a sigh, then walked over to the bed and sat down.

  I opened the first message: “What the hell were you thinking????”

  The second one read: “The deal is off!!!”

  And the third: “YOU ARE FIRED!!!”

  I read the last text over and over. I wasn’t surprised about the message. I was more surprised at my reaction to it.

  I felt nothing. No anger, no disappointment, no sadness, no remorse, no regret, nothing. It was as if I couldn’t care less, as if that message had nothing to do with me at all.

  I had worried about being fired since the day I joined TechnoGuard, and now that I had been, I didn’t even care. I shook my head. Something weird was going on with me.

  I looked back at my phone. Some of the other missed calls and messages were from Lisa and Ruth, in addition to a lot of unknown numbers.

  Ruth had texted, “I’m with you, boss. Always!” Lisa had sent about ten texts, all of them saying the same thing: “CALL ME!”

  I dialed Lisa’s number and even before I got to say hello, Lisa shouted, “You crazy, crazy, wonderful woman!” I had to hold the phone far away from my ear. Lisa has a very loud, high-pitched voice when she gets excited.

  “I can’t believe what you did! I am so goddamn proud of you! You did the right thing, Maya. Screw anyone who doesn’t get that!”

  I smiled, bringing the phone a little closer to my ear and thought how lucky I was to have a friend who loved me no matter what.

  “How are you?” Lisa asked.

  “I’m surprisingly well,” I replied. “Alistair just fired me, and I don’t even seem to care. I’m probably going insane or something!”

  Lisa laughed. She sounded relieved. “Have you seen the papers?”

  “Nope!” I said as I took a sip of the weak coffee. “And I’m not planning to either,” I went on, walking into the bathroom to pour the rest of the coffee down the sink.

  “Oh my God!” Lisa shouted, her voice bursting with excitement.

  I moved the phone away from my ear again. “Maya, you have to check it out! You’re famous! You’re on the front page of The Wall Street Journal and The New York Times!”

  “I’m what?” Now I was the one shouting.

  “Listen to this! The Wall Street Journal: ‘IT Executive Maya Williams Tells It As It Is.’ And there’s a big picture of you from the conference yesterday, looking smashing hot in that pencil skirt, and a facial expression that clearly says, ‘Don’t you dare mess with me.’”

  I quickly grabbed my laptop and Googled myself. I read along as Lisa shared articles with me over the phone.

  “Has a new wave of transparency finally arrived in Corporate America? In an unprecedented, candid, and brutally honest presentation for analysts and the investor community, TechnoGuard’s VP of sales, Maya Williams, confirmed the rumor that there is an unresolved bug in the company’s cybersecurity system. Now the big question is: Will Maya Williams be celebrated or punished for speaking the truth?”

  “Well, we know the answer to that one, don’t we?” I said dryly before I continued to read along with Lisa:

  “The TechnoGuard stock (TECGD) dropped 10 percent when Nasdaq opened this morning, then took a surprising turn, rising 20 percent since the market opened. Senior analyst at Goldman Sachs Bernie Walters says he believes the market’s reaction to Williams’ presentation yesterday comes from ‘Wall Street’s hunger for authenticity and trustworthiness in an age of alternative facts, lies, and greed.’”

  “Maya, you’re making history!” Lisa shouted.

  I continued reading as Lisa shared the next article from The New York Times, which had a similar spin.

  “Maya Williams, VP of TechnoGuard Inc., has demonstrated what the corporate world lacks and investors desperately seek: radical openness, real integrity, and the courage to stand up for the truth, however inconvenient it may be.”

  “Wow, Maya. Just wow!” Lisa read on, citing a third article, in The Washington Post, written by one of their most prominent columnists.

  “Enough is enough. TechnoGuard’s VP of sales, Maya Williams, took the stage and showed us how it’s done. With yesterday’s speech, she demonstrated that business and integrity are not mutually exclusive. Let’s hope this ends one era and begins a new one.”

  I was shocked. Not in my wildest dreams had I seen this coming. I suspected that Alistair Parker hadn’t either.

  While Lisa read more of the articles to me, I went back to the text messages Alistair had sent. They were all from last night, before the papers had come out. I didn’t think it would change anything. I had still done the unspeakable and would never be forgiven for that, but the news reports felt like a small victory, regardless.

  “So, what are you going to do now?” Lisa asked when she had finished reading the highlights to me.

  I rifled through my unpacked carry-on and found my plane ticket. My flight was leaving in four hours.

  “I have absolutely no idea,” I said as I sat back down on the bed. It felt weird to say those words out loud. I always knew what to do. I always had a plan. And now I didn’t. What was wrong with me?

  “Hey, why don’t you hang around on the Garden Island for a while?” Lisa asked.

  “Garden Island?” I asked, confused.

  “Kaua’i, silly. It’s called the Garden Island. It’s supposed to be one of the most beautiful places on earth. You should totally check it out. Get some sun, sleep, eat some pineapples, and just chill for a while. Get out of your head and have some fun.”

  And then it hit me. Yes, of course.

  “You know what, Lisa? I think I’ll follow your advice.”

  “You will?” She sounded surprised.

  “Yes. Sorry, I have to run. I have somewhere I need to be! I’ll call you later and explain! OK?”

  “You go, girl!”

  I smiled as I hung up the phone.

  It was time for some major chilling.

  CHILL

  Relax. Nothing is under control.

  ZEN PROVERB

  THE KEY TO PARADISE

  “And now, ladies and gentlemen, I’ll be playing the good old classic ‘Knee Deep,’ by Zac Brown Band and Jimmy Buffett, for you all,” the radio host said in a laid-back voice.

  “Whether you live here or are just visiting, make sure to get your feet wet and sandy, and immerse yourself fully into the aloha spirit and endless days of chilling. And know that you have just found yourself the key to paradise.”

  I turned up the volume. It felt as if the radio host were speaking directly to me.

  “I am Casey Kamaka, your favorit
e host on Island Radio, 98.5 FM. And this, my friends, is music that will make your feet stomp and hearts sing!”

  As “Knee Deep” streamed out of the loudspeakers of my rental car, I stepped on the gas pedal and watched the hotel disappear in the rearview mirror. I could hardly believe I was doing this. I was going to live in the kind of world Zac Brown Band and Jimmy Buffett sang about for a whole week!

  A strange, unfamiliar feeling bubbled up inside of me and came out as a loud “woooohoooo” as I waved my left hand up in the air.

  A passing car honked and waved back at me and I laughed. Never had I felt so crazy, bubbly, and free. I had absolutely no idea what was happening to me. But I loved it!

  After a quick search online, I had found a beach house on the North Shore of the island, only a two-hour drive from where I was.

  When I’d phoned the airline to cancel my flight, the airline agent asked, “And when will you be returning, Ms. Williams?”

  “You know what?” I replied. “I’m actually not sure.”

  The agent was quiet for a moment, and then she sighed, “You lucky thing.”

  “I sure am.” I laughed before hanging up.

  The car made a funny sound, like it had an engine too big for its size. I had never driven a Jeep before and realized it would take some getting used to. I chuckled as I realized I’d probably get used to the car long before I got used to my new outfit.

  The lady in the hotel souvenir shop had been thrilled and clapped her hands with excitement when I, still dressed in high heels and my charcoal suit, my only clean clothes, had asked for an entire wardrobe for a week’s stay on the island. She came running with dresses, swimwear, shorts, T-shirts, and lots of sarongs. That is when I learned that Hawaii doesn’t do clothes without rainbow colors, flowers, palm trees, or “aloha” written all over them, at least not according to the lady in the souvenir shop.

  “Happy colors, happy people,” she exclaimed eagerly when I tried on all the different items she brought me.

  Not in the mood for going shopping anywhere else, and eager to explore the island as quickly as possible, I bought most of the things the sweet lady suggested. I figured I could give it all away when I left the island in a week.

  As I was about to leave the souvenir shop, carrying a big shopping bag with “Live with Aloha” written all over it, the sales woman came running after me. She had a pink flower in her hand and wanted to put it in my hair.

  “The crown jewel,” she said.

  I tilted my head, a bit confused.

  “You single lady, right?” Her English was decent, but she spoke in fragments.

  “Is it that obvious?” I grimaced.

  “Very easy. You pay for your own things. Don’t ask man for advice. You self-sufficient woman. I like,” she said and signaled that I should lower my head so she could put the flower in my hair.

  “Flower on right side means you are single, flower on left side says you are taken. Very important you wear flower on right side. If not, no hanky-panky while in Hawaii.”

  I couldn’t help but laugh. “No hanky-panky wherever I am or however I wear the flower,” I said.

  The old lady looked at me, worried. “Why no hanky-panky?” she asked. “Everyone do hanky-panky.”

  I laughed and shook my head. Her face suddenly lit up.

  “You wear this flower, and I promise you hanky-panky very soon. You come thank me after. After hanky-panky.”

  I didn’t want to hurt her feelings, so I lowered my head so she could put the pink flower over my right ear.

  As I left the shop, I knew I probably looked ridiculous, but I smiled politely and waved the sweet old lady goodbye.

  I was a bit nervous about bumping into someone from the conference, but when I threw a glance at myself in the large mirror in the lobby, I realized it wouldn’t really matter. I doubted anyone would recognize me in this get-up. Hell, I couldn’t even recognize me.

  I smiled and stepped harder on the gas pedal.

  Soon the road turned right and not long after, the ocean appeared directly in front of me, crystal blue and covered with sparkling diamonds. I took a deep breath and let out a happy sigh.

  Being here was like being in a dream.

  I turned left and followed the road alongside the ocean. Apparently, it was the only road heading north, so I didn’t need to worry about getting lost.

  Keeping my eyes on the road, however, was more of a challenge. With the ocean on my right and green lush mountains covered with waterfalls to my left, it was like driving through a painting, with colors almost too intense to be real.

  After a while, I passed a cute little town called Kapa’a, with low pastel-colored buildings, food trucks, and surf shops on every corner.

  I was hungry so I stopped at a rainbow-painted food truck by the main road. The tiny courtyard in front of it was packed with young people, all looking like ridiculously happy and healthy surfer types. Some were waiting in line, others were hanging out on the grass, eating sandwiches out of small paper bags.

  While waiting for my turn, I asked a girl dressed in shorts and a bikini top where Kealia Beach was. “Three minutes north, right by the cemetary,” she smiled. Then she added, “The waves are awesome today. You’ll have yourself some serious fun!”

  I thanked her and laughed silently to myself. Now, wouldn’t that be a sight for sore eyes.

  After finishing my sandwich and kombucha, a cold fermented tea the girl behind the counter insisted I should try, I got back in my car and continued further north.

  A few minutes later I saw the cemetary on the left side and pulled into the beach parking lot on the right. The large white beach was almost empty. It was easy to spot Josh. He was sitting peacefully on the sand, watching some surfers playing in the waves.

  JOSH

  “Aloha, Maya!” Josh’s voice was warm and welcoming, as if he’d been expecting me. “Well, well, what do you know,” he said with a big grin, checking out the “new” Maya.

  I lowered my head, feeling a little self-conscious.

  “From corporate fashionista to chill Hawaiian babe in less than twenty-four hours. Not bad at all.” With sunglasses on I was able to see him more clearly. I realized he was a bit older than I first thought, maybe thirty. And just as beautiful. I don’t think I’d ever met a man more fitting to that word.

  “I decided to follow your advice to stay and chill for a while,” I said.

  Josh patted the sand beside him, inviting me to sit down.

  “I’m very glad you did,” he said, and I could feel that he meant it.

  As I sat down, I noticed something I hadn’t seen the day before. On his right arm he had a tattoo of an orange butterfly. It looked so real, as if it had just landed there and was having a little rest before it would continue to fly on to new adventures.

  Josh must have noticed my stare.

  “Once upon a time, I dreamt I was a butterfly,” he said, “fluttering hither and thither. I was conscious only of my happiness as a butterfly, unaware that I was myself. Soon I awaked, and there I was, veritably myself again. Now I do not know whether I was then a man dreaming I was a butterfly, or whether I am now a butterfly, dreaming I am a man.”

  “Wow,” I said and shook my head in awe. “Did you write that?”

  Josh chuckled warmly.

  “I wish,” he said. “But no. I borrowed it from the great Chinese philosopher Zhuang Zhou, who—almost 2,500 years ago—was able to put words to something that resonates so deeply with me today.”

  I nodded and smiled at him. Then I looked back at the butterfly on his arm.

  “It looks so real,” I said, wanting to trace it with my finger but stopping myself, realizing that might come across as a bit strange.

  I was quiet for a moment, then said, “My mom used to call me her little butterfly girl.” I’d known Josh for less than twenty-four hours, but still it felt like the most natural thing in the world to share that memory with him.

  He studied m
e silently with his warm and friendly eyes, waiting for me to continue.

  “Right before she died, she told me to look out for butterflies, because they would be there to tell me that she was fine and that she was watching over me.”

  “And did you?”

  I shook my head slowly at the memory.

  “I think I tried, but then Dad told me I had to stop believing in all that sort of nonsense. To him, things that cannot be rationalized or scientifically explained don’t exist.”

  Josh smiled and nodded knowingly. Something told me he’d been told the same once.

  “And what do you think now?” he asked.

  “Well, my dad trained me well, so I guess I have become more like him than my mom, who looked at everything in life as if it were a miracle. I used to believe in the things she believed in, but I think all of that died with her.”

  Josh nodded and was quiet for a while.

  Then he took a deep breath and mused, “I guess it’s all about how we choose to see it. Life can be serious and rationalized, or it can be playful and full of miracles. And whatever we choose to believe ends up becoming our reality.”

  At that moment, an orange butterfly flew by. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d seen one.

  “Look,” I said. “It looks so happy. And so free.”

  “Yes, doesn’t she?” Josh said. “She lives in the moment and enjoys every second of her short life. I think humans have a lot to learn from butterflies.”

  I smiled and looked from the real butterfly to the one on his arm. They were hard to tell apart.

  “Is that why you got your butterfly tattoo?” I asked, even though Josh didn’t seem to need that reminder.

  “Yes,” Josh nodded. “Nobody is born a butterfly, you know. We all start out as caterpillars and have to go through the journey to become a butterfly.”

  His words struck at something deep inside of me. Was that what we all were? Caterpillars? Without even being aware of it?

  Pictures flashed through my mind: the blank faces rushing through the streets of New York, the dead eyes in front of the computer screens in the office, my own tired face sometimes reflected in the car window on my way to work. I shook it off—I didn’t want my mind to go there.