Hard Soled Shoes Are Only For The Resilient

It was closing time at Webbers. I had fallen asleep as usual inside the third booth from the pool table. I made myself a pillow with a sweatshirt that was black around the wrists and smelled like a playground. I kept warm with the blanket Webby kept in his office. The commotion and intoxication mixed together in a lullaby that I had become so dependent on, it was difficult for me to fall asleep on a silent night. I counted the squeaks in the turning bar stools, the crack of the balls, the number of times Webby had to regretfully say, "That'll be all for the night buddy," and the loaded responses these words would elicit. "You can't tell me what to do Webby!" "Don't call me buddy, buddy." "Just one more?" Dad would be in the background. No matter how dense the forest of voices was I could always pinpoint his. Raspy and winding as if the wind had just been knocked out of him. "Hey Hawk!" they'd say. "Hey Hawk! Better keep an eye on this wife of yours. A man like me knows what she needs and one day I might just give it to her!" "Ah you can have her," he'd say. "She's used up anyways." And he'd put his eyes down into the bottom of his glass, shake the ice in circle and then take a sip with a slight smile on his face. Mom would come by and rub my ankles and adjust my socks and untie shoes before placing them under the table. I couldn't fully fall asleep until they were off. They were too hard and heavy, we couldn't afford to keep buying the soft ones, and they'd dig into my skin as I'd lay cross-legged and formed to the concave of the booth.

The closing bell rang at 1:45. I knew I had 15 more minutes of sleep before I'd have to wake up and walk to the car. "Thhaaaat's it folks!" Webby would yell. "Come on, come on. I'll see ya tamorrow." And with the crowd we'd shuffle out. I'd rub my eyes while mom and dad finished up a cigarette and passed the keys back and forth. "I drove last time, it's your turn god damnit." They'd get cranky and share a cigarette before flipping a coin and loading up. There wasn't a coin tonight though. Dad spent the last one on a game of pool and mom never had money of her own. No coin, no solution. "Can we go now?" I asked. "Yeah, as soon as your drunk of a mother starts the truck." "Screw you Tom,” she said. "I drove home the last time and you know it, bastard." "See, Susie? See why I'm so miserable all the time? See how this woman treats me? Remember this Susie, never treat your man this way. Respect him like the king he is!" "Oh get out of here with that bullshit," she said. "Just get the freak outta here and walk home. Maybe the fresh air will sober you up a bit, cuz right now you're livin' in fantasy land honey." "Maybe I will walk home. Probably pick up a lady or two on the way. Don't wait up baby, it's gunna be a loooong night. Goodnight Susie Q," he kissed my head. "Goodnight, bitch," and he slammed the door shut and walked towards Vanowen. "A donkey is what your father is, nothing but a stubborn, stupid ass." Mom revved up the truck and peeled out of Webber's, making sure Dad heard his only ride rolling away.

I kept my head above the dash and watched the red and green lights rotate down the empty boulevard. I saw water welling up in Mom's eyes and I couldn't tell if she had just yawned or was crying. Either way it made me yawn and yearn for my own bed. "Scoot closer to me, honey. I don't trust that door. Rusted piece of junk. A real provider would have bought his wife a nice, luxurious car, not some farmers hand-me-down." I put my head in her lap and closed my eyes each time she shifted. "That father of yours Susie- I just don't know what to do with him." "I'm sure he's sorry mom." I said. "He just get this way sometimes." She just shook her head. Said it was wrong and to chose my words wisely. "Us women have to stick together Susie. Don't let your two-bit father poison your mind with all his talk about king this and master that. We're equals Susie, remember that." She wiped the tears from her eyes, which were undeniably the tears of sadness and not sleep. "I'm sorry mom." "It's ok baby." She ran her fingers through my hair. "Do mommy a favor and grab her a cigarette." I sat up and reached down under the dash for her purse. "I don't feel them, mom." "They're there. Keep lookin'. I usually stick em in the OH SHIT." The truck jerked and I felt the back tires begin to slide in the opposite direction of the front. I was still holding the purse in my hands and mom was ripping at the steering with one hand and grabbing for me with the other. We started to spin. One spin. I saw mom's face. "Hold on," she grunted. Two spins. White lights made me squint. And then I was flying. I heard the click as my back slammed into the metal door. I felt mom's fingernails dig deep into my stomach, but she still couldn't stop me. The Force was too great. The door unlatched and my body flew outside of the car as it spun once more before hitting a pole and going to sleep.

I lay there breathing, crying, waiting to hear my mother’s footsteps come running towards me and they did, but I felt no better. My left leg lay crocked on the sidewalk like a rubber snake that had melted under the hot summer sun. I felt warmth pouring out from under my dress and heard my mom shriek as she swabbed it and raised her blood soaked hand into the street light above. She touched my ankles and adjusted my socks and pulled off my hard soled shoes one, by one. She laid them in the gutter and I didn’t recognize them. One looked vaguely familiar; black, white, shiny on the heel and scuffed on the toe, but the other was foreign. It didn't look like my shoe. The platform had been torn in half. The white patches were colored red, translucent chunks of flesh hung from the pointed toe and in this nightmare I fell asleep.