Taming of the Shoe

by Rebekah Dodson

  It was chilly; much too chilly for spring, but it was close to the middle of the night. The little slip in my stomach turned to butterflies; the familiar feeling I always got when I was about to see Ethan. The feeling I got when I saw him smile at me or look in my direction. Is this what love was? I’d never felt this way before, so I didn’t know, but when I saw him I couldn’t help it. I was catching feels hard and I wasn’t entirely sure what to do about it, either. Did I need to do anything? Where did it go from here?

  I picked up my pace, silently praying that he would actually be at the park and hadn’t got stopped by his parents. What if I got there and he wasn’t there? Then you turn around and go home, and Papa is none the wiser, I tried to tell myself. But still, those butterflies mixed with how unbelievable dark it was out here, and I felt the hairs on the back of my neck stand up. Too late, I realized I’d left Ethan’s phone on my bed. I changed to a brisk walk, trying to hurry as I turned down the street toward the park.

  Finally, Riverview park came into view, and there was one silver car parked just outside the closed gate. The Silver Beast. It wasn’t running, and dark inside. As I got closer, I saw no one was in it. Bile rose in my throat. Where was Ethan?

  I turned to the gate in front of the park and it was locked. Of course it was. Just beyond the splash park and a tennis court, on the other end of the park, I could see a shadow on the swings.

  Ethan?

  With no other way into the park – and not entirely sure how he’d entered – I decided to climb the fence beside the gate. It was fairly low, about four feet or so, and I figured it wouldn’t be hard to get over.

  Except for one problem: I had a skirt on.

  Oh, well. If that was Ethan, and I was pretty sure it was because there were no other cars here, then I had to get to him. And I couldn’t shout out to him and risk one of the houses around the park calling the cops on us, because the sign was pretty clear this place closed at sunset.

  Feeling like a dangerous assassin or something of the like, I hiked my skirt to my knees and planted my foot in the chain-link a foot off the ground. Luckily, my feet were small enough that I was able to get my grip. Holding the top of the fence with one hand and my skirt with the other, I managed to hoist myself to the top of the fence and swing my leg over.

  And that’s when the trouble started.

  I started to fall, so I dropped my skirt and reached for the top bar to steady myself as I swung my other leg over. My long skirt caught on one of the tops of the chain-link, and I heard the loudest sound in the world: ripping fabric.

  Horrified, I lost my grip and fell the last few inches to the ground, landing on my back with a soft oof. I scrambled to my feet, but it was so dark with only one streetlight over Ethan’s car I couldn’t see how much my skirt was ripped. A slight breeze blew through the park then, and I felt the air on my upper thigh.

  Oh, gosh darn it, I swore in my head.

  Holding my skirt together best I could, I half sped-walked, and half limped over to the swings. Relief washed over me when I saw it was Ethan, idly kicking the dirt under the center swing as he let it drift back and forth. He looked up at me and even in the darkness I could see his face was shiny.

  That dark place. I shivered as I thought about it. I hate that dark place.

  I stood in front of him, holding the chains of the swing. He looked up at me, and to my surprise, his hands went around my waist.

  “Did you climb the fence?” he whispered.

  “Yeah,” I told him.

  He leaned his head against me. “I’m sorry, Taylor.”

  I blinked, dropping one hand to run it through his hair. “You’re sorry? For what?”

  “I let her down.”

  “What? Who?” Confused, I dropped to my knees, wincing as they hit the dirt. I reached for his face and felt it was wet. I thumbed away his tears and held his cheeks. “Ethan, what’s going on?”

  “I killed her; it was all my fault.” He pushed my hands away and hung his head in his hands.

  “Who?” I asked again, though my stomach dropped as I blurted it. We both knew who we were talking about.

  It all came tumbling out of him then; the day he’d been driving, the snowstorm, the accident. Waking up in the hospital and not knowing where he was. His throat choked with a sob, and so did mine. I felt the tears drip out of my eyes hearing him tell his story.

  I pulled him to me, and he slid off the swing into my arms. We sat that way, cuddled in the dirt, for an eternity.

  “There’s more,” he whispered, gripping my forearm as he sat in my lap. “After Maeve died, I got in this stupid funk. Like, the doctors called it a ‘depressive episode’ and said it was a normal part of grief. Only this wasn’t normal. I didn’t want to continue in a world without her.”

  “I understand,” I whispered, wishing he knew I really did. Longing to tell him...

  He shifted to look into my face, but I could barely make out his features. “I loved her, and I never told her. What have I done?”

  I gripped him tighter. “It’s not your fault. It was the weather. It was the other driver. It wasn’t you... stop torturing yourself, Ethan.”

  “You don’t understand,” he protested, shaking his head. “I was a new driver. I could have stopped. I wasn’t paying attention. That’s what the police report said, too. They charged me with vehicular manslaughter...”

  I gasped.

  Ethan slumped in my arms. “My dad hired a lawyer from the city. Someone expensive. The charges were dropped in thirty days – it was quick. Maeve’s mom moved away after that – I know she wanted to see me pay for what I did. She hated me.”

  I didn’t know what to say, so I just held him.

  “After that, well, I figured I didn’t need to be on this planet anymore,” Ethan whispered, “so I took a handful of the pills they had given me to handle my depression.” He chuckled, but it was sad, sarcastic. “I guess they didn’t see that coming.”

  I understand, I thought, but stayed quiet. This was huge – monumental. I let Ethan talk.

  “They shipped me off to Rosy Hills, the mental health pod upstate, for a month, to ‘monitor me.’”

  “I see,” I murmured. Another tear escaped my eye as memories flooded through me.

  Ethan shifted to turn around. He took my hands in his and rubbed the back of my palm. “Are you okay?”

  I smiled slightly and pulled a hand away to wipe at my eyes. “Yeah ... just remembering my sister.”

  He blinked. “Your sister?”

  I nodded. “Susie. She died a year ago. She was only seven.”

  Ethan gasped a little. I knew his sister was around the same age, so he’d understand. At least, I hoped.

  “What happened?” he asked, his eyes searching my face.

  “She had bone cancer. It was aggressive – and we didn’t have the access to the care she needed.” I yanked my other hand from him and felt my fists ball at my side. “My parents were convinced if they prayed extra hard, God would save her. When He didn’t ... I think that’s the moment I lost my faith.”

  “I’m so sorry,” he mumbled. “I couldn’t imagine Amy...” He trailed off.

  I pushed myself to my feet and stumbled away from him. I hadn’t told anyone at school, not even Callie. It felt strange and relieving at the same time to tell Ethan my terrible secret. But was he ready for the rest of it?

  “I call it the dark place,” I muttered, facing away from him, “this place I went to after Susie died. I cried all the time, I stopped eating, I slept all day. My parents got worried and sent me to a ‘camp’ in Northern Germany. They made us pray all day in penance, and at night we were on what I know now was suicide watch. They woke us up every half hour. We were also not allowed to wear anything else but scratchy, white dresses, and had to rub ashes on our heads every day before prayer.”

  “That sounds like shit,” Ethan murmured.

  I nodded, turning around. “It was awful. I wanted to die. I really did.”
I gulped. “I finally got a chance when someone left a razor in the communal shower. It turns out slitting your wrists with a razor isn’t easy.”

  Hearing myself say that out loud for the first time terrified even me. I was a mess. Why would Ethan even put up with me? I paused, terrified. I waited for Ethan to run, I honestly did. He’d just turn around and head back to his car and never speak to me again.

  When he didn’t say anything and stared at me, I rambled, “I know God doesn’t approve of suicide, but I never felt so alone. I couldn’t handle my life without Susie, and I didn’t understand why God saw fit to take her! And why my parents wouldn’t get her the help she needed!” The anger I tried so hard to hide came bursting to the surface, and I wrapped my arms around myself, shaking. “People at school think I’m a strange; well, it’s true. Being a bitch is better than being heartbroken all the time, you know? Like, you have this hard shell around your heart, and you hope no one knows, no one figures it out. You’re invisible to everyone and it hurts, more than anything in the world. And then you want to let someone in and...and...” I pushed a fist in my mouth as I sobbed.

  Ethan didn’t waste any time. He immediately crossed the distance between us and pulled me into his arms. “I see you,” Ethan whispered in my ear. “I see you, Taylor.”

  Our lips collided, harder and more forceful than normal. I looped my arms behind his neck and pulled him closer. Before I knew it, I was stumbling backwards, and my shins hit the back of the slide and we tumbled to the cool plastic. My ripped skirt fell away, and I felt his hand on my thigh. A shiver ran through me, a delightful one filled with anticipation. My heart slammed against my chest, and I leaned into his kisses hard.

  “Is this okay?” Ethan asked against my lips as he kissed me again and again.

  I’d heard my whole life how lecherous, sinful men just wanted to take advantage of women, but with Ethan, it was totally different. With him, it was nothing but natural.

  “Yes,” I murmured, knowing then everything I’d been taught had been a lie. “It’s okay.”

  Chapter 15

  Ethan

  So public sex in a park? Check that off my bucket list.

  The old Ethan – the pre-Maeve Ethan – would have gladly texted a few friends to announce it and got a few back-slaps the next day. But this Ethan was keeping this entirely private. Absolutely no one needed to know about it, and I wanted to keep it that way. Not just for me, but for Taylor, too. Even though it didn’t matter. My friends I had left I could count on my left hand. Everyone knew me, everyone loved me, but did they want to be friends with the kid who was in a mental hospital?

  No. Absolutely not.

  I guess, in a way, both Taylor and I were pretty invisible.

  It was a miracle that Taylor and I both managed to make it back to our houses undetected. I had never snuck out in my life, and neither had she. It was as doozy that first time, but I found myself humming to a song on the radio as I let myself back in the house a few hours later. After we finished, we sat in my car for another hour talking—rather, reminiscing about loved ones we’d lost. She told me stories about Susie, and though I longed to tell her about Maeve, I pretty much just listened. I suspected no one ever really listened to her, and that made me sad.

  When we finally decided we’d better get home before we were missed, I took the chance to drive all the way up to her house and drop her off. She swore her Papa would be asleep and not to worry about it, but I had my reservations. Nevertheless, she waved at me from her dark front porch and I headed across town.

  The next morning, though, I was a zombie. I barely managed to force my eyes open when my alarm went off at six in the morning, and I went through the motions of attempting to shower and get dressed. My mother called Amy and I downstairs at six-thirty.

  “Your shirt’s on wrong-side out.” Amy giggled at me. She had beat me, of course, and was already pouring her cereal.

  “That’s all the rage now, kiddo, don’t you know?” I ruffled my sister’s long, curly hair and pecked the top of her head.

  “It looks funny,” she objected, then shrugged and started crunching away on her cereal.

  My mother, in all her blue pantsuit glory, was busy packing Amy a lunch. She turned and flung the zippered lunchbox on the counter and snatched her purse from the back of the stool next to me. “I have an appointment in the city,” she announced. “If I’m out late, I’ll stay in the city.” She eyed me sideways. “Take care of your sister tonight, all right?”

  “Where’s Daddy?” Amy asked, swiveling in her stool. Her eyes were wide – I could tell she picked up on the sparking awkwardness between my mother and me.

  “He’ll be back soon,” my mother told her, then forced a fake smile on her face. “He’s out of town for business.”

  That’s the lie we are telling her now? I almost rolled my eyes, but didn’t for Amy’s sake. Then I realized something about it being Friday, and how neither Taylor nor I had theater or dance practice, and Amy didn’t have soccer until tomorrow. A plan started formulating in my brain as I ignored the door slamming behind Mom.

  “Hey, Amy,” I said, fixing my shirt as I rounded the island. I leaned over it and clasped my arms. “What do you think about a movie night? With popcorn, candy, and we could even make nachos?”

  Amy’s face lit up. “Yeah! That sounds amazing.”

  I held up my palm toward her, and she high fived me. “Perfect, after school you, me, and Taylor can go shopping.”

  “Can we watch Shrek?” she begged, shifting excitedly in her seat. “You think Taylor has seen it?”

  “I’m sure she has.” I want to cringe. It was one of Amy’s favorite movies, but I’d seen it more times than I wanted to think about. “We’ll find something, I’m sure.” I pulled her now empty bowl away from her and put it in the sink. “Now, go get your backpack, or we’re gonna be late.”

  “Okay!” She hopped down and raced off to her bedroom.

  Twenty minutes later I pulled up to my school after a brief stop at my favorite coffee shop after I dropped off Amy. I wanted to order Taylor something, but I realized I didn’t know if she drank coffee. Or liked it. I made a mental note to ask her. I met up with her at her locker outside her first period classroom.

  “Good morning, baby,” I leaned over to whisper.

  Her face lit bright red and she turned to me with a smile. She pecked my cheek before I could move to grab her, not that I could with books in one hand and coffee in the other.

  “You reek of coffee,” she complained.

  I held up my white paper cup. “Black, just like my dad drinks it,” I boasted.

  “And my Papa.” She grabbed her books and shut her locker as she wrinkled up her nose. “I suppose that’s where my mom got it from, too.”

  “I take it you don’t like coffee.” I glanced at my watch as I said it. The bell should ring any minute.

  “I’ve always been more of a tea person.”

  When she said it, her German accent came through and it was adorable. I wanted to pull her into my arms again like I did last night. But it was seven in the morning and we had school. Curses!

  Then a strange thing happened. She pushed passed me, clutching her books tight, and ducked into her class. No kiss, no goodbye, no quick jab at me for liking coffee.

  Nothing.

  Odd.

  I shrugged it off, swilled the rest of my coffee, and tossed it in a nearby can, then went to my first period.

  Taylor didn’t talk to me in our next period we shared, but I chalked it up to our conversation last night and the fact we were in school. But was something bothering her? I had a hell of a lot bothering me, but I didn’t want to burden her with it. She already knew too much.

  At lunch, I decided to tell her about my plans that evening.

  “So, my mom’s gone until late tonight and it’s just me and Amy at home,” I started, playing with my hot lunch that was supposed to be some kind of spaghetti.

  Taylor was st
irring her food in circles, too. She didn’t look at me.

  “Amy and I thought we’d have a movie night. Do you want to join us? We were thinking nachos, candy, popcorn...”

  She didn’t look at me.

  I shifted in my seat. “Taylor? Everything okay?”

  “Yeah,” she mumbled. “I got a lot of homework tonight. I’m sorry, but I can’t.”

  I reached for her hand, but she pulled it away. “Taylor, talk to me. What’s going on? Did your Papa say something last night?”

  She stood and snatched her tray off the table, then finally looked at me. “No, he didn’t. You don’t have to worry about that. I’ve just got a lot on my mind, okay? I’ll see you in choir.”

  I frowned at her back as I watched her leave. I played with my food for a few more minutes, thoughtfully chewing the rock-hard garlic bread and downing my glass of milk.

  “She’s awfully bitchy today,” Susanna announced as she slid onto the bench a few feet away. “What’s up her ass?”

  “None of your business,” I snapped at her. I stood and gathered my tray and trash.

  Susanna shrugged. “It’s your girlfriend, dude.”

  “Don’t you have some other poor new girl to torture?”

  Susanna looked around as if she did; to my dismay, she was just that airheaded she took me seriously. I almost groaned. I had dated her for two months before I realized she had the personality of, well, white bread. She laughed at everything and had zero interests that weren’t make up, nails, and posting dancing videos on the Internet.

  “Ever since Angelica got suspended I don’t have anyone to hang out with,” Susanna said softly, and she stood as well. “I thought maybe I’d be welcome over here, but I’ll find somewhere else to eat.”

  I fiddled with my tray. I almost felt bad for the girl; she was obviously the kind of powerless lackey that was lost without her evil mistress. “Stay,” I told her. “I’ve got to get to choir, but I think I see a few people coming this way.” I spotted Gavin across the cafeteria and motioned him from under my tray where Susanna couldn’t see. He was a nerdy math geek who loved theater, but he was better than what Susanna usually hung around. He saw my flick of the hand and headed over.