In Her Shoes

          1000 words                                                                                   

                                                                                  In Her Shoes


Standing in a pair of pencil thin stilettos with a missing left heel, June clutched her thin coat tightly for warmth  as she watched a tow truck drag her dead car from the parking lot. She checked the time, thankfully she’d left home early. She had high hopes she was on her way to a clean new life; apparently, she needed to make her way through this old, dirty one first.

Earlier that evening, June had stopped her car too far from the bridge toll booth and snapped her left stiletto as she stepped out to insert her token.  She had decided to travel downtown to replace her shoes at ‘Here Today Gone Tomorrow’.  A consignment store that provided wealthy women the option of selling their last season’s clothing and recouping some cash.  It was still pricey but she figured slightly worn ‘good’ clothing were better than brand-new crap.

June crossed the parking lot through the wet, piled snow balancing on her one good heel. She was on a mission. Susan had lined up a blind date for her with a newly divorced lawyer from her husband’s firm and she didn’t want to screw it up.

June met Susan at pillates class. Chatting as they lay out their mats and rehydrating with water and lemon after class, they became friends. Susan had everything that June didn't have kids, a spouse, money and a house, oh, her beautiful house. Susan was a snake charmer and June was a bedazzled, willing snake.

June entered the consignment store; please, let there be a pretty, size seven, she thought.

She felt him stand beside her. His long graceful fingers reached out and plucked a pair of beautiful, high, green pumps. Italian, leather, soft, she wouldn’t have chosen them. The bright color and high heel concerned her; it was her fear of looking cheap.

“I suggest these.”

She turned to him. He was tall, a little tired around the eyes and somewhat stooped, like he had spent too much time trying to see into everyone’s eyes and most people were too small. He indicated a seat. She wondered about his accent.

“Would you care to try?” He asked.

“I’m not sure.”

“It’s the color?”

“Yes.”

“This is not the color of something made in a factory, this is the color of grass...leaves. Not yet autumn however not the over-brilliance of spring.”

She sunk into a worn leather chair and he crouched before her smiling as the shoe slid onto her foot.

“As I thought, a perfect size 8.”

“No, I’m 7, I’m never 8,” she said. For some reason, she was aggravated by his certainty of her size, as though he knew something she didn’t and it was unsettling.

He didn’t respond.

They were beautiful and she was running out of time.

“I’ll take them.”

At the till, she gasped at the price.

“Oh, I...,” she juggled her credit cards, trying to figure out the funds that were available on each.

“Give me what you can, pay the rest later - I’ve seen you shopping here many times,” he said.

Embarrassed, she fumbled with her wallet.

“As you can.” He said, touching her hand.

Clutching her old shoes, she hurried from the store. No money for a cab, she would take a bus.

Huddled in the bus shelter, she knew it was him before she turned her head. His lovely hands resting on his knees.

“Of all the clothing, I prefer the shoe,” he said.

She turned toward him trying not to expose her neck to the cold.

“Oh?”
Her teeth chattering.

“Especially the old ones.”

Distracted as she watched for her bus, she tried to be polite.

“If you were to pass an old shoe discarded at the side of the road, maybe you wouldn’t notice it or more likely you wouldn’t care, but to me, it’s beautiful. The worn leather, sometimes a broken shoelace, the uneven wearing of the heel. It was on a foot - there’s an entire story there if you like to see it.”

She shivered, her teeth now chattering audibly.

“Why not call your friends, they come get you? You’ll become ill.”

She turned toward him. “What do you know about me?”

He shrugged. “I thought -”

“- I can’t,” she said.

“Excuse my rudeness.” He bowed his head.

She looked down at her shoes.

Silence.

“Those shoes belonged to a very tiny woman who thought if she got herself mountains and stood on them, she wouldn’t feel small.”

June couldn’t help chuckling.

“What did my shoes tell you about me?” She waited for an answer but he remained silent.

June’s bus arrived and she stood up.

“Thank you.”

“Your shoes,” he said.

“yes?”

“They weren’t yours.”

June took a seat next to the window.

The Man was right, the shoes weren’t hers. Susan had given them to her.

She took out her hand mirror and fixed her lipstick, she’d be a bit late but it could work in her favor. She might appear mysterious.

The bus pulled into traffic passing by AN OLD SHOE AT THE SIDE OF THE ROAD, exactly where June had dropped it.

She didn’t notice.

The End