Shoes

Anna knew Em was going to make it big someday. Em had a flair for painting. Her colours on canvas drew people like the magical Piper of Hamelin. She could draw anything and make it come to life even in its stillness.
Like all the artist of the world, Em too was cursed in many ways. Her menial jobs where she worked to support her passion, paid her a meagre income that rent and ration would eat it away. So Anna would sometimes joke about how Em should get hold of someone rich from the Upper side to pay for her talents. Em wouldn’t mind the bantering, she’d always answer back wittingly that if she were to marry anyone form the Upper side of the snobbish society, it would be only for money. They both knew it wasn’t true. Em was a romantic and unfortunately unlucky in love. She’d always fall for the wrong ones.
She’d tell herself that she was strong but she was vulnerable, her worst and the best trait. She refused to be corrupted by the ways of the world around her. She refused to be influenced by world’s definition of love. She still believed in good men. And what a turn of event, she met one online. Oh boy! The upper side man, Anna was thrilled at first but she did warn Em about the stiff neck society.
It was a date, she had been looking forward to, for weeks. She’d squeezed everything she’d saved for a dress Anna thought she’d look good on. The economy was terrible, especially for her than the country. She could have borrowed Anna’s but Em and Anna were two poles apart in terms of size. Em was a petite woman of mid twenties, you usually see in house keeping magazine with apron and a ladle while Anna had a robust built of an athlete all thanks to the sedantry job she worked for to support her creative writing tuitions.
Em’s date from upper side, was a Chef by profession who could quote her favourite Dickinson rhyme by rhyme. Infact he wooed her with this quote
“Forever is composed of nows”
They bonded over the fact that both believed in dignity of labour. Of course, she didn’t tell him about the number of times she worked as a dishwasher for the same restaurant he owned so that she could buy a decent set of brushes and Varnish.
She had a habit of attracting crazy men, but she’d always say this one’s different, hoping against hope.
Anna was positive this time for she’d seen Em glow, Love was such a beautiful colour on people. It was stupid and illogical yet, the love bug had made her friend a lovely host.
” Manifest. Positive vibes” she’d told Em from the very beginning. ” And don’t come crying again if it doesn’t work”
So the following Sunday evening, Em was dressed to paint the town red but it was her shoes that gave away the modesty of her class. She was glad her date had decided for the evening, her shoes were hidden under the shade of dusk and her frilly dress. It wasn’t her fault though, the pair was the only good shoes she had owned and to get a new one would again create a hole in her pocket.

• 

They finally met in person.
Being a painter , as observant as she was, she noticed his features first. Drawn by greek nose, Adonis jawline and his lazy brown eyes, Em felt hexed by the proper consolidation of the elements on his face and toned body. He was absolutely flawless, or was it her lens that exaggerated his beauty.
He was polite to the waiters and had the etiquette of typical Upper side boys. The warm energy between them made her mellow, her voice sounded strange even to herself. Her high pitch voice was soft spoken and calm. The conversation was all one sided.
He spoke and she listened, like it was a sacred speech of Socrates. She was bewitched by his baritone voice that commanded absolute attention. His laughter was a musical, ringing in the open space that she had to place her hand on her heart to hide the drumming beat. Her heart was now a frail organ. Her face, a coloured pallet, that easily gave away her secret.

When the night matured, he spoke not of knowledge that she knew of but of things that she was deprived to the least, for she belonged to the provincial and as he spoke in polished English with complicated french cuisine names, she noticed her coarse hands on the linen tablecloth. Her bare wrist and neck was a mockery of her own class; not to mention the only pair of good shoes she was wearing hidden under the dress. The apprehension of her reality pulled her back to the ground. What was she thinking?
His radiant face, his new white shirt, undone sleeve button and the golden watch all screamed the gap between her class and his. She couldn’t help but compare herself with him. The worst feeling she had experienced second to love was this sense of being intimidated by the confidence of his class and wealth. To this day her own poverty never bothered her, for she considered it to be a subjective topic. She thought materialistic things were superfluous, and that her talent was enough.
He changed everything.
She curled her toes inside her shoes when a gorgeous woman patted his back to start a conversation. This new lady was a Lawyer and had soft white hands, Em knew by the movement of her eyebrows that this lady was scrutinizing her harshly. She felt naked in front of them, exposed for dissection. Her frilly dress that she had loved so much felt like a cheap thrift clothing screaming for attention. She looked around her, this wasn’t her crowd. This wasn’t her people. She asked herself, What was she thinking?

Confidence to her was a luxury, she had bought with a dress and yet it was soiled by the shoes. She looked at him, his radiant smile and posture, the way he carried himself indicated the innate confidence. She couldn’t help but envy every glance he showered to the new lady.

• 

Why did he fancy her, a struggling painter from the Lower Side? Or was it just pity? Her throat was parched with despondency. She smiled all she could to guard her self loathing. The lady finally left but not before revealing the history that both she and her date shared. There was an awkward silence.
Em was too spent to be surprised by the revelation. She missed her warm bed and her comfortable loneliness where nobody tried to hurt her with reality.
Seeing her lost and dazed, her date decided for a walk. When she returned home that night, the gallant gentleman kissed her goodnight, promised to call her for their second date but she knew that was it. She wanted to say goodbye but only “Goodnight” escaped her lips. Her face cracked a sad smile, he couldn’t decipher the emotion behind it.
Perhaps this is how the have nots are blessed, if the haves are blessed with choice and confidence. The have nots can feel anything and everything, and to feel is a blessing. Don’t you think?
She watched his snazzy pair of leather Oxford walk away from her, her heart crumbling with every step he took. She wanted to scream and ask, Why did he choose her?
But he was long gone towards the dark corner, far away from her reach.
She sat by the foot of the staircase, took her shoes off and contemplated at the turn of events. Her bare dry hands didn’t look so bad after all, and the sole of her shoes were already breaking off. She looked at her shoes, and her shabby apartment, they looked good together, the shoes complemented the worn out apartment ,her toes were red and sore.

That night Anna found her sobbing by the same stairs. Alarmed to see her pensive, Anna asked about Em’s date though the answer was already raw in her face.
Em blinked her twinkling eyes and replied softly,
“My shoes hurt. Anna, my shoes hurt”

• 

Kate Sarah