Taming of the Shoe

by Rebekah Dodson

  I jabbed Gavin lightly in the ribs, and he uttered a mock, “oof” and backed up a step. Taylor was on stage for the end of the first act, which was where she discovered what the hat was doing to her friends. I had the script in my hand and was reading from it as she spoke.

  “You’ve all gone crazy!” Taylor shouted and tossed our top hat prop to the ground. She turned and faced the crowd, which was just me at the moment. “But what can I do? If that hat has bewitched them, I must destroy it!” She reached down and snatched the hat off the ground and began to pace. “But how do I do it? I have to save Alastair, Gracey, and Harrison! But if I destroy it, will they come back to normal?”

  I eyed Gavin. “You’re on in a minute,” I hissed.

  Gavin took off backstage as if he completely forgot we were here to do a play or something. I rolled my eyes as the theater room door slammed behind him. He was funny, but not much upstairs sometimes.

  After practice was done that night, with Gavin repeatedly screwing up his lines and driving a pounding headache into my brain, I waited outside the girl’s locker room for Taylor to change. She preferred acting in the same pants she wore for dance practice, but her Papa – and the church by proxy – demanded she still hold to their religion by wearing skirts.

  I certainly wasn’t going to protest it.

  Tonight, however, I had something for Taylor that was going to delay us a bit. Luckily, it was Thursday, and her Papa would be at the VFW late, usually playing Rook or hand and foot with his veteran buddies, Taylor told me. Good... I needed all the time I could get.

  As soon as we got to the parking lot, Taylor reached for my hand and squeezed it. It always sent a little shiver through me when she did that, not only because I wasn’t expecting it, but because it made me feel good when she did. I honestly couldn’t remember a time when a girl just wanted to hold my hand without wanting to do something of a more, uh, carnal nature.

  Not Taylor, though. She’d never have those thoughts – though when we made out in my car her body told me a very different story.

  We slid into my car and she turned to kiss me, but I didn’t turn my head quick enough, so her forehead hit the side of my hard head.

  “Ow!” She rubbed the front of her head. “This is what I get for trying to steal a kiss?”

  I turned and gently grabbed her chin, pulling her toward me and kissing her lips. “I thought I stole the kisses around here?”

  She looped her arms around my neck and kissed me again. “My turn.”

  I laughed into her mouth and kissed her back, then gently pried her off me. Before she could pout, I reached in the back seat to retrieve the boxy plastic bag stamped with my parents’ cell phone provider’s logo.

  “What’s this?” she asked when I handed it to her. She reached for the small black box and pulled it out.

  “A cell phone?” She turned it over, then lifted the lid. The little black phone was smaller than I wanted, but all I could afford.

  “I had to mow a lot of lawns last weekend,” I told her.

  “You?” She stared at me for a good minute.

  “I don’t like mowing lawns. It makes me hungry.”

  “You’re always hungry.” She was busy powering the phone on.

  “Speaking of which, nachos?”

  She was still enamored with the phone. “Is this like ... on your cell phone plan?”

  “No, it’s pre-paid. I paid two months’ worth, so it’s good until the end of the school year.”

  She fiddled with the screen for a minute and smiled. “The only number stored in this is yours.”

  I smiled. “Exactly.” My smile faltered when I saw her face slip into a frown.

  “So this is a secret phone to text you?”

  “Not secret, exactly, but I figured if your Papa is going through yours...” I shrugged. I tried to be nonchalant, but inside I was screaming. Only seeing her at school and theater practice was killing me. Not being able to send her a funny meme or tell her she was cute was also slowly destroying me. I hoped she felt the same, but maybe I was wrong? Oh, God, was I wrong? “Do you like it?” I added tentatively. I almost winced. What if she rejected it?

  She tossed the phone on the dashboard and reached for me. “I love it, but you know what I love more?”

  The biggest smile lit my face. “Is it me?”

  She bit her bottom lip and nodded.

  I kissed her, touching her face with one hand, as I started the car with the other. “As much as I could sit here with you all night, Taylor, I need nachos. Like Seven-Eleven drenched in cheesy goodness and topped with just the right amount of jalapeños and onions kind of magicalness.”

  She batted me playfully. “I’m not kissing you after that.”

  I winked at her. “Yeah, you probably will anyway.”

  “Probably.”

  It wasn’t until I dropped her off down the street from her dark house an hour later that I realized I forgot to say ‘I love you’ back. We were really at that stage, after only a month of dating?

  I frowned as I pulled down the block away from her house. I wasn’t a grand gestures kind of guy – the phone had been anxiety inducing enough. What if I said I love you and she didn’t hear me or something?

  Nope.

  Not going there.

  I thought about it the entire way back to my house and was surprised to see the lights on when I pulled into the driveway. Not just the front porch lights – the lights in the living room, kitchen, and even my parents’ upstairs bedroom lights were all on. The only rooms that were dark were Amy’s and my bedrooms. It was five after eleven – my parents should have been in bed at the very least.

  I shrugged it off as I locked the Silver Beast with the fob and skipped up the porch stairs. My parents were probably entertaining some clients and sent Amy to bed, or over to a friend’s house. But on a Thursday? That in itself was strange. I threw the door open and hung my driving cap on the hook behind the door and threw my keys into my hand.

  “Mom?”

  I rounded the corner in the kitchen, and my parents were seated across from each other at the kitchen island. My mother was bent over her laptop, and my father had a stack of papers in front of him he was busy signing. Mom looked up at me, Father did not. Typical – he never paid attention to me or Amy these days.

  “Why are you guys up so late?” I turned to my mother, seeing as she would probably answer me first.

  “Ethan,” my father spoke for her, which absolutely annoyed the crap out of me. “Take a seat, son.”

  I bristled at him calling me son, when he wasn’t going to be winning any father of the year awards any time soon. Regardless, practice wore me out, so I pulled a stool to the end of the island. It creaked slightly under my weight as I half-sat, half stood.

  “What’s up?” I looked between them and realized my mother’s tiredness had progressed rapidly. A few weeks ago she had lines under her eyes, and now they were red-rimmed. Had my mother been crying... again?

  This was nothing I wanted any part of. Whatever bad news was coming my way, I didn’t want to hear it. I stood and pushed the stool in. “Can we talk tomorrow? I’m really tired.”

  “Your father won’t be here tomorrow,” my mother said softly, sadly. “So it has to be tonight. While your sister is sleeping.”

  I ran a hand through my hair and sucked in a deep breath. “Is he going on another business trip? Because that’s nothing new. He’s never around.” I turned to go to my room.

  “Ethan Mark.”

  My father’s deep, rumbling voice stopped me in my tracks. I couldn’t remember the last time he used my middle name, but it was an indication that something was seriously wrong.

  A flurry of thoughts flew across my brain, all of them nonsensical and comical. I looked between both my parents. “Fine. What do you wanna talk about?”

  “We put the house up for sale today,” my mother announced, staring at her hands. My back straightened immediately at her tone. “And the reason
I’ve been out late this week is because I found an apartment in the city.”

  My jaw dropped. “Excuse me?” My head shifted between them again. “Are you... are you leaving Dad?”

  My father’s face was set in grim determination, but he didn’t move, even to look at me. My mother still stared down at the counter.

  “Mom?”

  With a heavy sigh, she finally met my gaze. “Yes, your father and I are getting a divorce.”

  It was the most endearing move I think I’d ever seen between my parents when my father reached over and squeezed my mother’s hand. “But we’ve agreed to part as friends, for yours and Amy’s sakes,” he told me.

  I felt myself slump against the back of the stool.

  “Ethan?” my father urged. “I know this is a lot, but with your help—”

  I leaned forward. “How soon are we talking about?”

  My parents exchanged a glance. “That’s hard to tell,” my mother said, “we don’t know how fast the house will sell. We know your little play is important, so we’ll try to wait until the end of the school year, but it may not be possible.”

  Little play? I bristled at that and ground my teeth. You mean the play I worked on for three years that you never bothered to look at, even when I begged you? I wanted to shout at them. You mean the “little play” I spent endless hours having Jackson look over in an attempt to assuage my guilt and sadness for Maeve? The anger bubbled up in the back of my throat, startling me. I couldn’t hold it back. My eyes burned.

  Oh, hell no. I wasn’t crying over this. Not now, not ever. I shed my tears for Maeve; never again.

  “The reality is, your mother and Amy may move to the city, and you and I may stay here until the house sells,” my father interjected, completely oblivious to the storm swirling inside me, as always.

  I tugged at my hair again. It was hard to keep my anger at bay. “You’re just going to take Amy out of school? What about soccer?”

  My mother waved her hand. “She’ll be fine. She’s seven, after all.”

  A raging headache pierced my temple. I fought for words, but I didn’t have any at first. Disappointment, sadness, and finally rage rushed through me. I watched them, doing a fairly piss-poor job of retaining my emotions, until my mother scoffed at me, “Ethan? Are you okay?”

  I stood so quickly the stool fell behind me, clattering to the linoleum with a crash. I ignored it. “No, not okay. You mean to tell me I have to cancel the play, when I just cast Taylor? And what about Taylor? What am I supposed to tell her?”

  “It’s a high school relationship, it’s not like you haven’t had a ton of them,” my father mumbled. “Just because it fell apart with Maeve doesn’t mean—”

  I slammed my fist into the marble countertop, not flinching at the pain shooting up my arm. “Maeve died, Dad. Or did you forget? Oh, that’s right, you were too busy working to come to the fucking funeral!”

  “Ethan, language!” my mother exploded, then urged us to be quiet.

  My father ignored her, staring at me blankly, as if I was an idiot. It infuriated me even more. “How could I forget?” He blinked. “I spent a fortune on those lawyers to get the charges against you dropped. You’re welcome, by the way.”

  “And I appreciate it,” I spit out, refusing to let this go. “But that doesn’t change the fact that you and Mom moved us out here to get away from the city, and now you’re going to uproot us? It’s almost like you don’t even care about us at all!”

  “We care,” my mother protested softly, “and because we care, we recently signed a big client. It’s enough to finally send you to a good prep school so you can get into a good college. That’s all we want for you, isn’t that right, Rick?” She gazed haplessly at my father; I imagine begging for his support. She didn’t get it.

  “That’s enough for tonight,” my father announced, standing. “It’s nearly midnight, and I don’t even want to talk about how you’re past your curfew, young man.”

  “Like you have ever cared,” I mumbled.

  “Ethan...” he warned.

  “Fine, whatever.” I pushed away from the counter and stomped off to my room.

  Slamming the door behind me, I plopped in the office chair in front of my desk and pulled out my phone. My fingers hovered over Taylor’s new number I’d stored in my phone for her pre-paid. Would she already be asleep? Probably.

  Did I need her?

  Yes.

  Did I need her in person?

  Also yes.

  Hey, are you still awake? I sent, staring at my phone like an idiot for a minute, thinking she’d respond. When she didn’t, I tossed my phone on the desk and threw my head into my hands. A confusing string of ideas hit me, making my head pound worse. Moving, packing, the play, Taylor.

  It was too much.

  I thought back to Taylor’s audition. She was perfect for Lilla. Her voice on that stage still gave me chills. She was only sixteen, but I could tell she had a big future ahead of her. If only I could give her the little bit of confidence she needed to be an actress.

  But that was all over. I’d have to tell Jackson tomorrow that the play was cancelled, and that I’d be moving. How would he take it? How would my actors take it?

  And what about moving to a new school my senior year? With a bunch of stuffy, prep-school assholes? I’d hate it. At this point, I was better off getting my GED and going to community college. At least I’d be with the people I wanted to be around with and not some rich boys living on Daddy’s money.

  My phone chimed and I was so stressed, I jumped. I scrambled after it, my fingers sending it shooting across the desk. I snatched it up and looked to see Taylor’s number and the message: Not really, but are you okay?

  No, I responded quickly. I paused, listening to one set of footsteps pad to my parents’ bedroom down the hall. The light under my door switched off, meaning they’d gone to bed. I hovered over the send button for a few seconds. I really need to talk to you.

  It’s like midnight, Ethan. Papa would wake up if I called you right now...

  I ground my teeth again. She didn’t get it. I mean like talk to you in person.

  Can’t we talk at school?

  I squeezed my phone hard in my hand. She didn’t get it; and probably didn’t want to get in trouble. I couldn’t blame her. But my room was suffocating, this house was suffocating. I couldn’t stand it anymore, even at midnight on a school night.

  I think I’m going to go hang out at Riverview park.

  Her response was swift: It’s midnight!

  And?

  Are you okay, Ethan?

  I paused over typing, No, but then I stood and flipped my keys into my hand and pocketed my phone. I no longer cared if my parents heard the front door when I let it shut behind me, or if they were awakened by the Silver Beast cranking to life. I especially didn’t care if they heard the tires squeal as I pulled out of the driveway and gunned it down the road.

  Chapter 14

  Taylor

  I couldn’t sleep. I kept thinking about the audition three weeks ago, and how to tell Papa I landed another play. This one involved magic and superstition; he definitely wouldn’t approve. As the weeks went on, Ethan and I settled in a routine: we had play rehearsal after school, he rushed me to dance practice, then picked up Amy from soccer, then on his way home, he swung by the dance studio and gave me a ride to a block from my house where he’d drop me off to walk the rest of the way. After dinner or church, we texted until midnight every single night. On the weekends, I rarely saw him – he was either with the cast or his family, and I had church obligations.

  I still had to tell Papa about the play – eventually. We had three shows planned for the second of June, and that date was only a month away. Would I just spring it on him – surprise, Papa, I’m in a play with an evil, sinning boy! Yeah, I wasn’t sure that would go over well.

  But maybe if he saw Ethan was directing it, I could convince him that God would want us to date. Or court, or wh
atever stupid, inane rules he and my parents came up with. I’m almost seventeen and I still have to ask permission for this stuff? I knew Papa would be pissed if he knew about us, but Ethan had been right about keeping this a secret.

  This is stupid and you know it. The devil on my shoulder was getting comfortable now. Every time I was with Ethan, I had to push aside my guilt, which, admittedly, was getting easier by the day, but what would happen if he wanted to get ... physical? Callie asked me the same question last week and tried to tell me things I wasn’t ready to hear. Was I even ready for that, after just a month of dating?

  I groaned and rolled over, punching my pillow to make it less flat. Why did Ethan always do this to me? I thought about him until I went to sleep and woke up thinking about him every morning. I knew he wanted to get more physical, but it scared me. Something in his kisses, fervent and often desperate, told me he wanted more, but I desperately hoped I was wrong, well, sorta. I finally convinced myself not to dwell on it; I was so happy with Ethan. Every moment I spent with him, he made me laugh and feel so much better even when I was sad. Ethan was slowly becoming my world.

  So when my secret phone – hidden under my pillow of course – vibrated almost an hour after he dropped me off, I wasn’t surprised. I smiled a little, wondering if he was saying goodnight, or that he couldn’t sleep, too.

  It wasn’t either.

  I stared down at my phone, not sure what to say. Riverview park was two blocks away, and it was dark. I could cut through a few lawns, but they probably had porch lights and I’d be spotted trespassing, which I definitely didn’t want. The very thought of walking there made me tremble. But something was wrong with Ethan. Something terribly wrong; I could tell. What if he was in a dark place – I knew those dark places. Not even any perfunctory religious commitments could get me out of those dark places, not without serious help. And I wasn’t professional help, but I was better than nothing, wasn’t I?

  After torturing myself for a few minutes, I slipped out of bed, changed into a dark, long-sleeved shirt and black skirt, and tied on my shoes. My stomach lurched with apprehension and fear as I slipped down the stairs, passing Papa’s bedroom on the first floor, hearing the familiar whir of his breathing machine as I passed. I slipped into my zip-up hoodie on the hanger behind the kitchen door and let myself into the dark.