Shoes

I don't feel like writing right now, but I do want to have a second post this week so I'm posting a short story I wrote for my Advanced Comp class last semester. I like it and thought it was cute so I'm posting it here. It may seem long, but that's just because the column is so narrow. Enjoy.

Shoes: a Secret Life

“Right,” the Left Shoe whispered through her laces. “You awake?”

“Hmm?” replied the Right Shoe. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m up. What’s going on?”

“Oh, I don’t know. I guess I’m just thinking about how things have changed.”

“What do you mean?” Right yawned.

“I mean, I started out in China with all of my sisters. I can still remember coming off the press, not knowing what the world would hold. Then, you and I were married and wrapped up tight and put in the box for the honeymoon. Now, we’re here in Oklahoma and it seems like all we do is either sit in the closet or get shoved on the Owner’s feet. It’s like we’re slaves.”

The Right Shoe shrugged (not easy for an immobile object). “Well, yes, we’re a couple, but it’s not like we had a ceremony.”

“The inspector paired us together and signed the marriage certificate.”

“That was a certificate of inspection. Anyway, our ‘honeymoon’ was just the trip over to the United States. And we’re here because we are incapable of independent movement.”

The Left Shoe looked dejected (which is much easier than shrugging). “Well, I liked our honeymoon.”

“I’m not saying I didn’t enjoy that time we had alone before being taken to the store, but that was a long time ago. Besides, we’re a pair of shoes for the Owner and we serve him. And what did you mean ‘we’re like slaves’?”

“Well, I don’t feel very well cared for by the owner,” said the Right Shoe.

“But,” said Mr. Shoe, “you said you were thinking about what’s changed. We’re treated just as well as when we were brand new.”

“I know, but some of the other shoes are treated better.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, the Dress Shoes get shined and I heard that the casual shoes got mud wiped off of them. We’ve had mud on us without the Owner cleaning us off,” she said with some indignation. “And He didn’t even put us in the closet today.”

“Well, no He hasn’t. Not yet, anyway. Wait a minute, where’s all of this coming from anyway. We’re treated well enough and now you want to be cleaned and polished? Is something the matter?”

“You know Sgt. Combat-Boot that shares the closet with us?”

“Yes, of course,” said the Right Shoe. “He and his wife were in the armed forces together but they’re retired now.”

“Well, I’ve been talking to him lately.”

“When? I’m always with you.”

“It was last week, when the Owner just threw us in the closet and you were over by the Thongs.”

“They go by the name ‘Flip-Flops’ now. ‘Thong’ is … well, it’s inappropriate.”

“Really? Well, when you were catching up with the … ‘Flip-Flops’” she said deliberately, “I got to know Sgt. Combat-Boot and his wife better. He says that they used to be owned by someone else and that the Owner bought him used.”

“Used, huh? I had a feeling they were a bit weird.”

“No, not weird,” Left said firmly, “just different. They said that they used to get polished all the time and their old Owner would wear them all the time. But one day, He just gave them up and took them to a second-hand store.”

“Well …” Mr. Shoe began, but sounded less confident this time. “We’ve heard about other Owners. The Flip-Flops have been worn by the Owner’s Wife.”

“Yes, but that’s different. Being lent out is one thing, but the Combat-Boots were abandoned. They had done their best to serve their Owner and he just gives them up. How do we know that our Owner won’t do that?”

“I guess we don’t. That’s the whole point though. We were created to serve Him with all our soles, but we don’t know if it’s enough. We just do our best and hope.”

“I still don’t know. The world made sense before, but now I’m confused.”

“It’s tough sometimes,” Right said, “but we just have to work hard and believe.”

The door to the bedroom opened and the Owner emerged. He walked over and picked up the Shoes and went back into the bedroom. There, he opened the closet door and gently placed the Shoes in their spot between the Casual Shoes and the Flip-Flops. He closed his door.

“See?” Right said brightly. “He did remember us.”

“Maybe,” Left said cautiously optimistic. “Maybe He does care.”

“Of course he does. Besides, he’s been wearing us the most lately.”

“I hadn’t thought of it that way. I’m probably just being silly. Still, I’m glad we talked about this.”

“Me, too. Sometimes, you need to question what you believe to realize you know it’s true. Good night,” said Mr. Shoe.

“Good night,” said Mrs. Shoe.