Monarch Butterflies in FlightBy: Raul Touzon
As fate would have it, Faye Monroe met Michael Duncan on a breezy spring afternoon in April 1973. Before that day their paths had crossed, unknowingly, several times. Growing up in the same small town, they had often been only steps from each other, literally; never realizing it.
It was five weeks before Faye’s high school graduation. Unbeknownst to her, she had been ‘sized-up’ as she walked down the wide, long corridor that led from the school’s main office to the library absorbed in thoughts about passing finals and the seemingly ominous decision of where to go to college. As discussed the previous day, Faye decided to pop her head into the Dean of Students office and say a quick “Hello” to Mr. Hennessy. The students knew him as ‘Satch’; at least when they weren’t in trouble. Satch mentioned to Faye there was someone he wanted her to meet, “So, stop by my office after class tomorrow, say around three.”
Faye was intrigued. A few minutes after three the next afternoon, she knocked on Satch’s door to see if he were in. Indeed he was and not alone. Sitting in a battered wooden chair across from his desk was a nice looking fellow with sandy-blonde hair and very muscular arms. Obviously, a weight-lifter.
Next to him, perched casually on the wide window sill was one very good looking, very tall, very strong guy. The ‘tall’ part struck Faye right away. Being six feet tall herself, one of her first prerequisites was height. At almost eighteen, she had finally become more comfortable with her unusual stature. Even the nickname, ‘Amazon Queen’ didn’t bother her so much anymore. Faye’s inner voice was busily yabbering, This guy is definitely tall. A jock. Great eyes. Great hair. I wonder who he is? Before she looked completely like a deer caught in headlights, Satch said, “Zel (another of Faye’s nicknames, from the basketball player Zelmo Beatty) I want you to meet two guys that used to go to school here and gave me nothing but trouble!” They all chuckled.
“This is Matt Hamilton, and that guy over there is Michael Duncan.”
Faye looked directly into his confident, mischievous sparkling blue eyes. This guy was a Hottie! Years later, over cocktails, Faye confessed to Michael, “I was so discombobulated the first time we met. I don’t even recall if we exchanged greetings or said anything to one another in Satch’s office.” Faye remembered nodding to Matt and Michael, trying desperately to look unimpressed as they discussed something to do with weight-lifting. How long she stood in Satch’s office remains a mystery. She felt partially paralyzed. Her stomach flitting-around like a herd of butterflies on speed. Finally, there had been a pause in the conversation; the perfect moment to take her leave as she uttered the appropriate, “Nice to meet you. Bye.”
Michael never knew it took an enormous dramatic effort by Faye to attempt a relaxed, indifferent exit from Satch’s office. Once, safely out of view, she practically ran down the echoing corridor and into her refuge. A ’65 Ford Mustang. That car was the love of her life. Her freedom. A soft, yellow exterior with black faux-leather bucket seats. Automatic. Brand new radio with hi-fidelity speakers. Wide tires with racy mags and Cherry Bomb high- performance glass-pack mufflers that rumbled in perfect pitch. Faye adored cars. Her friends teasingly called her ‘a greaser chick.’ She was a good driver and knew it. Faye liked nothing better than to drive fast with the windows down and the radio set to KFRC blaring Stepp’in Wolf’s ‘Born To Be Wild;’ the wind blowing her long cinnamon hair recently sun-streaked with blonde highlights, thanks to a revolutionary new product called ‘Sun-In.’ Those moments were her idea of pure heaven.
On that April afternoon, life was feeling very, very good to Faye Monroe. She pulled out of the high school parking lot and onto Sir Francis Drake Boulevard. Her pesky inner voice blared in her ear. Do you think he’ll call? No! Who are you trying to kid! Isn’t he that popular guy? Captain of the football team with Mark Lewis? Wasn’t he going with the star of the Senior Play, I think her name was Peg. Yeah, I bet that’s him. I heard they were supposed to get married. I wonder what happened. I wonder if he’s the same guy?
After several repetitions of this dialogue, Faye could feel the adrenaline buzzing through her system. On and on her mind raced. Whew, what was that all about? I’m trembling. I’m energized. I feel giddy. Geez, get over it! I wonder if he’ll call?
Next to him, perched casually on the wide window sill was one very good looking, very tall, very strong guy. The ‘tall’ part struck Faye right away. Being six feet tall herself, one of her first prerequisites was height. At almost eighteen, she had finally become more comfortable with her unusual stature. Even the nickname, ‘Amazon Queen’ didn’t bother her so much anymore. Faye’s inner voice was busily yabbering, This guy is definitely tall. A jock. Great eyes. Great hair. I wonder who he is? Before she looked completely like a deer caught in headlights, Satch said, “Zel (another of Faye’s nicknames, from the basketball player Zelmo Beatty) I want you to meet two guys that used to go to school here and gave me nothing but trouble!” They all chuckled.
“This is Matt Hamilton, and that guy over there is Michael Duncan.”
Faye looked directly into his confident, mischievous sparkling blue eyes. This guy was a Hottie! Years later, over cocktails, Faye confessed to Michael, “I was so discombobulated the first time we met. I don’t even recall if we exchanged greetings or said anything to one another in Satch’s office.” Faye remembered nodding to Matt and Michael, trying desperately to look unimpressed as they discussed something to do with weight-lifting. How long she stood in Satch’s office remains a mystery. She felt partially paralyzed. Her stomach flitting-around like a herd of butterflies on speed. Finally, there had been a pause in the conversation; the perfect moment to take her leave as she uttered the appropriate, “Nice to meet you. Bye.”
Michael never knew it took an enormous dramatic effort by Faye to attempt a relaxed, indifferent exit from Satch’s office. Once, safely out of view, she practically ran down the echoing corridor and into her refuge. A ’65 Ford Mustang. That car was the love of her life. Her freedom. A soft, yellow exterior with black faux-leather bucket seats. Automatic. Brand new radio with hi-fidelity speakers. Wide tires with racy mags and Cherry Bomb high- performance glass-pack mufflers that rumbled in perfect pitch. Faye adored cars. Her friends teasingly called her ‘a greaser chick.’ She was a good driver and knew it. Faye liked nothing better than to drive fast with the windows down and the radio set to KFRC blaring Stepp’in Wolf’s ‘Born To Be Wild;’ the wind blowing her long cinnamon hair recently sun-streaked with blonde highlights, thanks to a revolutionary new product called ‘Sun-In.’ Those moments were her idea of pure heaven.
On that April afternoon, life was feeling very, very good to Faye Monroe. She pulled out of the high school parking lot and onto Sir Francis Drake Boulevard. Her pesky inner voice blared in her ear. Do you think he’ll call? No! Who are you trying to kid! Isn’t he that popular guy? Captain of the football team with Mark Lewis? Wasn’t he going with the star of the Senior Play, I think her name was Peg. Yeah, I bet that’s him. I heard they were supposed to get married. I wonder what happened. I wonder if he’s the same guy?
After several repetitions of this dialogue, Faye could feel the adrenaline buzzing through her system. On and on her mind raced. Whew, what was that all about? I’m trembling. I’m energized. I feel giddy. Geez, get over it! I wonder if he’ll call?
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