Frizzy
― Lawren Leo
I believe in love at first sight, and one glimpse of Sylvia Blair convinced me I needed her in my life.
Unfortunately, the feeling wasn’t mutual and Sylvia has been avoiding me ever since.
My mood has been miserable ever since that rainy day when I escaped a downpour by seeking shelter in her library and ended up captivated by her charms.
I don’t give up easily, but it seems lately that every bone in my body is aching as if Fate itself has conspired to make romance hard on my flesh.
It’s Friday, and Sylvia has managed to elude me once again. Her co-worker, Frizzy, takes pity on me and drops a not-too subtle hint.
“Gee, I wish I had an apartment near the lake like Sylvia,” she says dreamily.
“Sylvia lives near the lake?” I ask, trying to appear nonchalant.
“Oh yes, she lives near the boardwalk and goes for walks there every evening after work.”
I file that away for future reference.
Frizzy still has that same far away look in her eyes and says dreamily, “I’m sure Sylvia will be taking lots of walks next week—Nicholas is going on a book tour and won’t be back until Sunday.”
Ah, the perfect chance for romance—with her suitor at a distance.
I could have kissed Frizzy’s cute little face. This was my chance to woo Sylvia, if ever there was going to be one.
Monday turned out to be Sylvia’s day off, and although I walked the boardwalk until it was dark, she never appeared. Obviously, she followed a different routine on non-work days.
I walked home feeling disconsolate, but as I passed The Palms Hotel I happened to see Nicholas Randall escorting a beautiful woman inside. I followed them from a discreet distance and watched while they entered the downstairs bar.
They sat in a secluded back corner table and I watched while Nicholas began embracing and kissing the woman. I snapped a few pics with my I-phone.
As I walked home pondering the situation, it occurred to me Nicholas was supposed to be in New York. I wondered if he planned to go on the book tour at all, and decided to find out by spending a few evenings at the bar.
I know it’s the kind of thing you’d expect from a cheap detective, but I was curious and determined to find out if Nicholas’ philandering was the exception or the rule.
It turned out Nicholas was there every night with a different girl, and I had the date-stamped pics to prove it.
I’m embarrassed to admit it, but I printed the pics as 8x10 glossies, intending to confront Sylvia with indisputable evidence.
I carried the glossies with me in a valise I used for sketching and jotting the occasional poem.
Another week passed with Sylvia as elusive as the Abominable Snowman. Finally, I got my opportunity one Tuesday evening after work. I spotted Sylvia walking on the boardwalk while chatting on her cell phone—probably making plans with Nicholas, I mused bitterly.
It was getting dark and the skies looked threatening, but Sylvia kept walking further and further, and I had no alternative but to follow her like a puppy.
And the problem was, the further she walked, the more I had time to doubt the wisdom of my plan.
Oh, I wasn’t concerned with outing, Nicholas, her ‘boyfriend’—I just didn’t want to hurt her.