She Only Speaks to Butterflies (26 page)

Selecting a pair of suit pants and a shirt and tie, Saul stripped out of his pajamas and showered. He washed, shaved, brushed his teeth and dressed swiftly. Carefully folding his pajamas and placing them on the armoir beside the bed, Saul stuffed his feet into his freshly shined leather shoes and walked out into the kitchen. His breakfast dishes could wait, the bank opened at nine-thirty, leaving him just fifteen minutes to drive there. Checking his pocket once more, Saul picked up his wallet and passbook from the table by the door, and locked the door behind him.

The house across the street still had a for sale sign tacked to a metal post on the front lawn. It had once inhabited a middle-aged couple that divorced. A realtor had brought only a few people through in the last few weeks; the house had been on the market for months. An African-American man, who lived two doors down from Saul, was out mowing his lawn. He nodded a greeting to Saul and he reciprocated.

Sliding into the driver’s seat, Saul inserted the key into the engine. A plume of dust swept through the vents as the air conditioning swished to life. He spotted a young woman jogging with her dog and let her pass before pulling out of his driveway. The dog, a golden retriever, was happily trotting beside his master with a green tennis ball lodged in his mouth.

Saul arrived at the bank when the closed sign was still in the window. There was one other gentleman waiting in a makeshift line. The man nodded hello when Saul walked up next to him.

“Beautiful day today,” the man said pleasantly.

“That it is,” Saul returned.

“Supposed to get hot today. I heard on the news.”

“That’s what I heard too,” Saul answered just as the brown-haired woman opened the glass entrance doors. Her nametag read ‘Dorothy’ but he heard her coworkers call her ‘Dottie’ so many times he wondered why they hadn’t changed it.

“Good morning, Saul,” Dottie said.

“Morning.”

Their exchange was so practiced, no words were required. Saul handed Dottie the remittance slips from inside the envelope, and his passbook. She keyed in the payments and placed his passbook on the printer, while giving him the payment receipts to attach to his bills. The same procedure went on each time he came into the bank. Saul would leave the bank with his receipts and updated passbook, and head home.

However, today Saul was greeted by a young man whom he never saw before. He appeared from behind the customer service desk, as if by magic. Introducing himself as Arnold, he invited Saul to come into his office. Reluctant at first, Saul asked what it was about.

“I’d like to talk to you about your account,” Arnold explained.

“What about it?”

“Please, come with me,” Arnold said pleasantly.

Saul followed him, suddenly worried that there might be a problem with his account. Dottie had failed to mention if there was anything amiss. Maybe she signalled Arnold to come out and discuss the problem? Saul thought to himself. In the twenty years that he’d been coming to this bank, this was the first time there had ever been an issue.

Arnold closed the door. “Please have a seat.”

Saul obliged, pulling his suit pants up at the thighs. “Is there a problem?” he asked curiously.

Arnold examined Saul’s full head of white hair and his stark blue eyes. His suit fit perfectly, aside from the small ponch he had in front, where the suspenders offered support.

“Not a problem at all, sir,” Arnold answered respectfully. “I wanted to discuss your account.”

Saul listened to the man for about fifteen seconds. He walked out of the bank vowing to never return again. Looking at his passbook, he checked to make sure they hadn’t pulled a fast one on him, since he’d always been paranoid that one day it would happen.

To his relief, all was good. His balance was still just over two million dollars.

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Thank you for reading my work. If you’ve made it this far I’d say that’s a good sign! My writing career began back in 2006 when I was up to my elbows in dirty diapers, caring for my two children. I always had a desire to write something but up until then I didn’t really know what to write.

Inspiration struck and it took me two years but I finally wrote my first book: a fifty page memoir, and I was so excited about it. After my second book, another memoir, was self-published, I realized there was something more to it than a hobby. I’ve been writing ever since.

Giving up my full-time career in the corporate world was not an easy decision to make. But coupled with personal reasons and the drive to do something really meaningful, was the ache of creativity that has kept me motivated for the last nine years.

I hope this book gave you something to think about, entertained you and made you laugh at least once, because that is what I strive for when I write.

Seeing as you’ve read most of my bio I’ll insert the mundane stuff now. I’m a married Canadian who lives in Niagara Falls with my husband, two daughters and a loving, eleven pound cat. If you would like to see more of my work it can be found at
www.sandyappleyard.com
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Happy Reading!