Rita Hayworth's Shoes (17 page)

“Uh, thanks?” she said, grabbed a pink T-shirt dress off a hanger and slipped it on. “Who's that?” she called to the window.

Grant stuck his head in. “Just me,” he said, and then Frankie and Mario also stuck their heads through. “Uh, I mean not just me, but just me who spoke.”

“What are you guys doing out there?” The ensuing silence drew her to the window.  She stuck her head out to see Grant, Frankie, Mario, and Jane all sitting on the fire escape.

“Uh, smoking,” said Frankie.

“Smoking's terrible for you. You guys really should give it up. And Jane, Grant, I have to say I'm shocked—”

“Not that kind of smoking,” Grant said, as he took a long drag on the cigarette in his hand as passed it to his left hand side.

“Oh,” she said, somewhat scandalized, somewhat intrigued. “Jane, my God, you have a child!”

Jane took the cigarette and breathed in for a long hit. “Can't think of a better reason,” she said and exhaled, her observation provoking a gigglish grunt from Grant. “Besides,” she said, and took another hit, “it's not like she's out here.”

Amy watched Jane for a while. “Well?”

Jane shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

“Aren't you going to exhale?” Amy asked.

Jane pursed her lips and shook her head, and finally let out the smoke, which Amy had to admit smelled pretty darn good. Then she caught herself, “Wait. Isn't your boyfriend a cop?” Amy asked as Jane went in for a third hit.

Jane paused. “You have a point,” she said, and passed the joint to Mario. “See you guys inside,” she said. “I can't promise any Doritos will be left, though.”

Mario took a quick hit and passed it to Frankie, who waved it off. “I'm starved,” Mario said. He stood up and passed the joint to Grant. “Good stuff, man,” he said. “Thanks for sharing.”

Grant waved in reply as he took a long toke.

“Wait up!” said Frankie, and he climbed through the window after Mario.

Grant tapped the grate next to him, motioning for Amy to sit down. She surprised herself by complying.

He looked her up and down and nodded. “That's a much better look then when you came,” he inhaled, “in,” he exhaled, and coughed himself silly on the smoke cracking himself up.

“Oh, ha ha,” said Amy, folding her arms in front of her. He held out the joint to her; she paused for a moment and then shook her head. “Frankly, I'm a little shocked at you,” she said.

“Why?” he asked and he took another toke.

“Because…well…you know,” she stammered, uncomfortably. “What would Enid say?”

He laughed. “She'd probably spontaneously combust. You're right. I should be more sensitive,” he said and he took another drag.

“You're being awfully droll for a man who spends most of his life pretty much super-glued to his mother's skirts.”

“Yes, that,” he said, and smoked some more. “Haven't you ever just given someone something they need, you know, just to give them a purpose?”

“I don't understand.”

“Of course you do,” he said. “You totally do it with that David schmuck all the time.”

“But David's my–”

“Boyfriend, yes everyone knows. But he's also your ex-boyfriend, and if you ask me, your past was a much better place for him.”

“I don't see what any of this has to do with you and Aunt Enid,” she said, and then added, indignantly, “or how it's any of your business.” She reached for the joint and took a drag. The smoke was shockingly smooth. It didn't burn or hurt. It was almost, pleasant… She felt herself begin to relax; he nodded for her to take another drag and she did. She handed it back.

“My mother would have nothing if she didn't have me to coddle. It's pathetic, I know, but it's the way it goes,” he said, and he inhaled. “If someone has nothing to live for, what happens to them?”

“What?”

“They die,” he said, and he exhaled. “And I don't really need that on my conscience. So, when I'm with her, I try and give her what she needs.”

“But you do kind of go for it. I mean, it seems pretty authentic if you ask me. And the way you've been about your wife leaving isn't exactly well, you know…”

“Look, I'm not going to lie to you. I was fucking devastated by that. Still am. That part of it is at least true.”

“Okay, but that means then you get it, about me and David. Why I'm back with him. You understand better than anyone else,” she said, feeling finally like she'd found someone to connect to on all of this, even if it was Grant.

“Uh, no. I really don't understand what you're doing with that douche bag.”

“He wanted to get back together. He begged me.”

“So?”

“Oh, come on. You know if
she
ever wanted you back, you would take her back in a minute,” she surmised, triumphant.

Grant coughed a good long time. “Oh, for fuck's sake, no. Not on your goddamned life,” he said.

“I don't understand. You always say that she broke you in two when she left you. That you're half a man without her.”

“Yes. But I'm at least the good half. And I tell you, it's a far better position to be in then stuck with a useless other half. Or worse, a half that slows you down. A half that's just a gorgeous raging bitch with an agenda.” He shook his head. “I got none of the bitch baggage weighing me down now. I may be half a man, but I can fly!”

“You may be half in the bag.”

He considered this. “You may be right about that,” he said. “But I guess this isn't really something you'd understand.”

“Why wouldn't I understand? I understand a lot of things.”

“Because you gave up being better to be with David.”

Amy was enraged and she was about to let Grant have it when Enid interrupted, calling from the other room. “Grant. Grant!”

“Mama calls,” he said, getting up.

“I still don't see why you put up with it,” she said.

“I still don't see why you do,” he said, and handed her the rest of the joint. Just then, Enid stuck her head through the window and began sniffing wildly.

“Grant? Are you out here? There you are!” she said, now rubbing her nose. “What is that?” she asked and she glared at Amy. “Are you smoking? Are you breathing your filthy second-hand smoke around my little boy?!”

“It's okay, Mama. Let's go back inside.”

“I just can't believe the nerve…”

Grant pushed through the window and gave a quick backwards wave. Clarabelle, who had accompanied Enid, now stuck her head out and took a deep, long breath. “Ah, the good stuff,” she said. And with that she was gone.

Amy stubbed out the joint and headed back inside. She took a quick glance at herself in the mirror and fixed her hair, becoming suddenly conscious of the mousy-brown roots that had started to sprout from her scalp. She quickly ran her hand through, grabbed up a tube of frost pink lip gloss, slathered some on, and headed back out to the party.

She scanned the room for David, but he was nowhere to be found. She spotted Jane and the Building Boys stuffing their faces at the buffet table, and Grant leaning against a wall, dutifully listening as his mother flailed her arms and appeared to be lecturing him. Joshua and Lauren were canoodling in front of the curtained wall of babies, while Clarabelle played patty-cake with Ava and Zoë and the placard of Eric and Shirley. Uncle Mort just sat in a chair and snoozed. But definitely no David.

“He left, in case you were wondering,” Ollie then said. “I got stuck with him most of the night. Somehow everyone else disappeared and left me with him. Real interesting guy,” he added, the sarcasm obvious.

“I beg your pardon,” she nearly hissed.

“You're right. That's not fair. He really didn't have much of anything to add to the conversation. And I don't think he liked those neighbors of yours,” he remarked with cool suspicion, as he watched them pig out and laugh about seemingly nothing with his girlfriend.

“Oh,” said Amy.

“Why do you suppose those guys are so hungry?” he asked. “I've never seen a bunch of Italian kids go at a bowl of chopped liver like that.”

“Uh, dunno,” Amy lied, feeling herself kind of desperate to join them.

“Huh,” said Ollie, and they stood together quietly and watched the food orgy unfold. “You know who would fit in here well is Deck. Have you spoken to Deck lately? Do you know where he is?”

“Deck and I don't speak. Not anymore.”

“And whose fault is that?” he asked.

“I would say it was his, wouldn't you?” she said. “That guy's a maniac.”

“That guy's been through the ringer thanks to Marny. You might give him a chance…”

“I gave him a chance. I reached out to him—he blew up at me.”

“Well, maybe there's more going on that you don't know about and—”

“Somehow I don't think that's the case.”

“I have something for you,” he said, reaching into his pocket. “It's from Deck.”

“No thank you. I don't want it,” she said, thinking it was another letter and feeling a twinge of guilt at having not opened the other one.

“But he wanted…”

She shook her head. “I really need to move on, okay?”

He shook his head. “Have it your way,” he said.

“I will,” she snapped, adamant, and Ollie walked away.

“Oh, I almost forgot,” he said and turned around. “David said to tell you he'd be here at seven sharp to pick you up for your big getaway. Such a lucky girl you are!” he mocked, and walked away chuckling.

Amy then ducked into her bedroom, turned out her light, dropped into her bed, and went to sleep.

Amy turned to watch David as he drove west on I-78. His thick head of stick straight silken hair. His eyes, still magnificent even as they squinted to read the highway signs. His skin, so sexy and rough. Except which now, upon closer reflection, seemed more leathery to her than anything else. Sunburned from his recent Caribbean vacation? Maybe even a little scaly? She shook the thought out of her head.

So many things weren't clear to her these days, but David's looks were not one of them. She was comforted by the fact that at least now there would be no crazy surprises. Not with David. That the worst they would ever share was now firmly behind them.

“I'm sorry I took off like that last night, without saying good-night,” he said.

“That was a little crazy,” she said.

“Amy, give me a break,” he laughed. “At that party, my taking off was the most mild form of crazy imaginable.”

“What do you mean by that?” she asked.

David looked at her and smirked and she glared at him, defensively. “Forget about it, okay?” he said. “I get that that's your family. I mean in the crazy way that they are but those punks that hang out on the stoop, well…sorry. Just forget about it.”

They drove along in silence several more minutes. Amy pulled down her sun visor and  checked her reflection in the vanity mirror provided for just such a thing. She tugged at her hair, trying to make the blond highlights cover more than was reasonable to desire they would; she created with her hair something that could only be described as a Comb-over of Desperation.

“Your hair looks nice like that,” David said, now smiling at her.

“Really?” She blew her bangs out of her face. “I really haven't gotten around to getting it fixed. These stupid roots are starting to get to me. But that's nice of you to say,” she said. “Thanks.”

“Amy, I said it looked
good
. Why would you think about changing it?'

“Oh.”

They drove in silence for a while, until David spoke again. “Did you really sleep with that freaky guy?”

“What?”

“That guy, Tony, at your party…”

“I never slept with Tony…”

“No, that's not what I meant. Tony said that you had been with that English professor guy, your boss. That you had been with him at our place—”

“My place, remember,” she shot back. “You moved out.”

“Your place. Whatever. Sorry. But did you really sleep with him?”

“He's not a freak.”

“You did, didn't you?” he said, and he took a deep breath. “Well, it's okay. I suppose I forgive you, all things considered.”

At this moment, even Amy could see the crazy irony of her not-so-distant past infecting her past.

“Can we not talk about this anymore?” she asked.

“Of course,” he said, unconvincingly. “Of course.” And they drove along in silence again.

Several minutes later, he asked, “So are you sorry you postponed your defense?”

“I guess not,” she said. “You had a point that I wasn't really there with my arguments. Probably another six months of thinking it through will help.”

“See, Scruffy. I
do
give you good advice. Thank God you started talking to me again,” he said, and he tapped her knee.

She stared out the window. “Yeah, I guess you do,” she said, as he pulled into a parking lot.

“We're here,” he said, and without hiding an ounce of enthusiasm, asked, “Ready?”

“Sure,” she said, feeling considerably less excited than David.

“Let's go,” he said. He got out of the car, closed his door, and headed toward the building in the distance. Amy sat for a minute, watching him walk away, actually surprised that she was more enjoying the sight of him walking away than the past two hours spent in the car with him, or even the past two or so weeks she'd been seeing him again. She considered staying in the car, enjoying the feeling of being alone, until she saw him stop, look around, and head back to the car. She looked away.

He knocked on the window. “Is this door stuck again?” he asked, and pulled it open with ease. “Gets that way sometime. Liz could never get it open… sorry.”

“Don't worry about it,” she said, feeling just a quick moment's admiration for Liz, for tricking David into being considerate. She'd have to remember that trick and started to think of some other ways she could also trick him into being more like she wanted him to be as she unbuckled her seat belt, grabbed up her purse and followed. She shielded her eyes with her hand to block out the bright morning sun as they headed to the entrance under the sign for The Northern Berks Reptile Show.

Entering, Amy froze. She was uneasy and uncomfortable even if she couldn't exactly put her finger on
why
. Was it because she was jealous that he'd probably taken Liz to the last event?

As she walked through, she began to remember how much this convention was a freak show in and of itself, having nothing to do with the snakes and the lizards and the baby alligators being offered for sale. Looking around, it all came back to her that she had never seen more mulleted hair. More throwback feathered roach clips. More heavy metal T-shirts and rhinestones in one place. Everything felt wrong again, and a new clarity emerged in her as she wondered if it ever had felt
right
with David.

“Look at this screamer!” shouted David, now a few tables ahead of her. And just like that, it all started to unravel. Like when a person's about to die and their whole life flashes before them, she began to see snippets of her romance with David in rapid succession. Their first date, that terrible action film. His birthdays, filled with love and thoughtful gifts—her birthdays, not unlike the one he'd just blown off, with gifts for her that seemed more for him. All the hours she helped him practice for his defense; all the hours he spent talking her out of doing hers. She could feel herself starting to panic. She could feel herself starting to sweat.

“She's incredible!” David shouted, as the small milk snake slithered around his hand, his arm, his wrist. She imagined it morphing into a giant snake and swallowing David whole. She imagined it becoming a boa constrictor, with David's head, and wrapping itself around her, around her dreams and her passions and her soul, squeezing everything dead. She was starting to have trouble breathing.

“She's gorgeous!” he beamed.

“Gorgeous,” she whispered, and she thought about what that meant. She looked down at her clothes, her uniform for David. Drab. Matronly.
Urban Amish
. She whispered the word again as she realized, he had just used a word for a snake that he'd never once used to describe her.

But Deck had called her gorgeous, pretty, beautiful, and had done so effortlessly. He never wanted her to be someone else. He seemed to enjoy her for who she was. He knew who she was—even if she didn't quite know… She was dazed.

“I think I should take this one,” he said, as the snake slithered through his fingers. “How are we on room?”

“Huh?” she asked.

“Is there room for more? Could we build another unit?”

She was confused. “You want
me
to take this one?”

“Sure. So she can be with her friends,” he said.

“Why would I want more snakes? I have enough snakes,” she said.

“I don't know. Because you like them so much?” he dropped the snake back in her enclosure. “Anyway, my place is much too small.”

“I don't think I have the room…”

“You don't need new stuff, Amy! When my lease is up, I can just move me and all my stuff back in.”

“You're moving back in?”

“Why wouldn't I?” he asked, taking out his wallet. “I mean, we'd definitely have to wait until after the lease is up. I'm not going to eat that security deposit. And then we can go to Smitty's and…”

David was still talking to her as he offered a few bills to the vendor, who slipped the snake into a repurposed takeout container and handed it to David. But she didn't know what he was saying. She couldn't hear anything but the sound of her own blood rushing up to her brain as it seemed to whisper in her ear, over and over, “Flee!” And that's just what she did.

##

Two hours later, Amy could hardly catch her breath as she raced through the front door of Smitty's. She had made a terrible mistake, and as soon as the vendor handed David the snake, she knew it. She just ran out of the exhibition hall. She ran into the parking lot. She had no idea how she was going to get back home, but all she knew was she had to get there. She had to get away from David. She had to get back to the way things were meant to be. And she knew just where to start.

“I thought I told you never to come back to my store again,” the old woman snapped.

“I made a mistake. I'm sorry,” Amy said, choking back tears. “I'm so very sorry. I see it now. It all makes sense now. I need the shoes. Please.”

The woman eyed her for a minute, then looked away. “Well you can't have them,” she said. “They aren't here anymore.”

“What do you mean they aren't here? Where are they?”

“They're in someone else's hands now. Someone who really appreciates their value.”

“Tell me who. Please! Who is she?”

“Not a woman,” the shopkeeper sneered. “A man, actually.”

Amy's heart sank. “Was he very tall?” she asked hopefully. “And very bald. Fortyish?”

“What is it with you and your obsession with Yul Brynner?” she chided.

“Well?”

“Nope,” she said flatly. “Not even close.”

Her heart sank again. “Okay. Well, I guess that's how it is, then. Sorry to have wasted your time,” she said as she headed out.

Amy stood outside the store and peered in the window, at the now-empty pedestal where those magnificent shoes once stood. Where she'd fallen in love with them. Where she'd made the decision to change her life. But catching her own reflection in the glass now, her face in the space where the shoes would have been, she had to do a double take. She wasn't sure anymore who this woman was, with mousy bangs and no makeup, looking worn and boring and even a little old.

##

Walking up to her building, the Boys, reliable as ever, stood and waited for her. Though they said nothing to her at all as she approached.

“Hi, guys,” she said, and managed a weak wave. They turned away from her. “Really? Is this how it's going to be now?”

They still said nothing until Mario finally spoke. “We can't know you if you're going to be with that douche bag.”

“That freaking guy didn't even know it was your birthday,” said Frankie. “What a loser.”

“As long as you're with him, you're a loser,” said Tony, and he turned his back on her. “And we don't talk to losers.” The rest of the guys grunted in agreement.

“Well, that's all over now,” she said, and they all breathed a collective sigh of relief. “I'm just not sure what next from here.”

They were quiet before a moment until Frankie stepped forward and spoke. “That cop was here, Amy.”

“Ollie? Why?”

They exchanged worried glances among themselves but nobody spoke.

“Oh my God, what is it? Something about Deck?”

“Yes,” said Mario, and he nodded, solemnly.

“What happened to Deck? Did he go on a killing spree?” she gasped. “Did he kill himself? Oh God!”

They all looked at each other again. “Uh, no,” said Angelo.

Frankie stepped forward. “He left this for you,” he said, and pulled out a small box. “He said it was from Deck.”

She took the package from him and opened it. Inside, was an antique pin, a daisy with mother-of-pearl petals and a yellow topaz center. “Wow,” was all she said. There was a note attached, with a very simple message: “Happy Birthday, Amy.” She felt something stick in her throat.

“Don't write him off, Amy,” said Tony sincerely, surprising Amy and everyone else. “Sure, he's kind of fucked-up to look at, but he has a beautiful soul.” To Amy's surprise once again, the guys didn't laugh at their friend; they all nodded instead. “Everyone knows you can't fall in love with a body,” Tony continued. “I mean, you can
love
to be
with
a body. But you can only love a soul.”

“I see,” said Amy, a faraway look on her face. “Thanks guys,” she said, and ducked inside.

Once in her apartment, Amy made herself a pot of tea and brought it into the living room. She headed over to the curtained wall where the snakes still lived and she pulled back a corner, revealing the place where she kept Heimlich's trunk. She brought it over to the couch and popped it open, ready to put the dolls back in, but she stopped when she noticed the small locked compartment partially hidden underneath the CDs. She realized she'd never opened it, and the curiosity now overwhelmed her. She ran into the kitchen to grab a butter knife and then went to work at the lock.

After about seven tries, the compartment finally flipped open and there was one thing inside. A simple black-and-white photo. A young man and a small boy laughing on the beach. She had no idea who these people were or what it meant to Heimlich, hidden away in his trunk like this. But, looking at this photo, she somehow knew what she had to do. She picked up the phone and dialed.

“Hi, it's me,” she said. “Can you tell Ollie that Deck can have the dolls? Just tell Ollie to come and pick up the trunk.”

“You don't want to try and bring it to Deck yourself?”

“I don't think I can see him,” she said.

“Okay, I'll tell him,” Jane said.

Amy now spotted the letter Deck had written to her. She walked over to it, slit open the envelope, and began to read.