Orange-red coloured leaves covered the streets, some of them turning murky under the weight of footsteps. Mark sat on the porch, overlooking the collection of items he had arranged. A hand-written board that read ‘Yard Sale’ swung in the breeze. The autumn air, crisp and calming, yet carried with it a sense of melancholy, just like his state of mind. Trudging through life alone in the twilight years felt like a punishment. Though reluctantly, he chose to move to a senior home. He noticed a young woman walk towards him, her hand wrapped around her belly, every step cautious.
She looked at the articles, running her hand across a few of them. Her eyes glinted as she picked up a pair of baby shoes.
“How much are these?” She asked, smiling, her face softly pressed against them.
He stood up, dazed, his mind slipping into the past.
A bell jingled as he entered the coffee shop. A waitress greeted him, her auburn hair trimmed to perfection, manicured nails gleaming against the grey coffee mug, and glowing skin immediately caught his attention.
“Would you join me for a cup of coffee?” he asked without hesitation.
“I serve coffee all day. Maybe we should try something else,” she said, smiling.
“When your workday ends, I’ll be waiting for you, Kate,” he said, pointing at her nameplate. Later that night, they walked along the moonlit alley, the air thick with anticipation. A man from the ice cream cart gave them frozen delights, a chocolaty heart shape trembling atop her creamy frost. Their eyes met for a fleeting moment, and he had forgotten all the lines he had practised to impress her. He didn’t know what the future held for them, yet he knew that she was the one. What began as a whirlwind romance slowly blossomed into deep-seated love, at least for him.
A year went by. Kate’s red eyes stared at the pregnancy kit that was thrown carelessly on the floor. Tears blurred his vision as he cupped her face, his world suddenly turning brighter.
“We are pregnant,” he whispered, hugging her tenderly.
She stood still for a few seconds, her racing heart thudding against him.
“I don’t want this,” she said, her face contorted in disgust, as if she were talking about something insignificant.
“But Kate, this is our baby,” he said, his joy shattering into sorrow.
“I’m working to put myself through law school. This baby isn’t what I want at the moment,” she said.
“I’ll take care of our baby. You focus on your dreams,” he assured, a silent prayer echoing in his heart.
She didn’t say yes, but she didn’t disagree either. When the doctor informed him that it was a girl, he made a pair of shoes for her. A shoemaker by profession who specialised in designing custom-made shoes, yet his hands trembled as he wove the pink ribbons into the leather.
That evening, he reached home earlier than usual. Kate wasn’t there, only a note on the refrigerator that read, “I can’t do this anymore. I have put her up for adoption. It’s for the best.”
The box slipped from his hands, and the shoes landed on the floor. Pink colour shoes, with ribbons and stones, lay abandoned as he held onto the fragments of breath. She left. Just like that. And took his cradle of joy away from him.
Six months later, he packed the shoes and tucked them in a dark corner in the attic, silently harbouring a hope that Kate would return and the shoes would unite with the tiny feet. But hope, like glass, shattered when grasped onto tightly. His friends suggested he sell the shoes and move on. But he never wanted to move on. He stayed rooted, for he knew even the slightest movement meant destruction.
“How much are these?” The woman’s voice snapped him to the present.
“These aren’t mea…nt to b..e here,” he stuttered, racking his mind, trying to remember when he had brought the deeply buried memory into the light.
“If they are here, they are meant to be,” said the woman, smiling.
“Maybe,” he said, his eyes lingering on her. She tapped her feet; her gaze alternating between her watch and the shoes.
Taking his cue, he answered “Baby shoes – never worn, but held dear and loved. They are priceless.”
Tears gathered at the edges as he caressed the shoes lovingly. He had pictured his princess wearing the shoes and patter around the house, laughter bubbling behind her. But those shoes were bereft of soles, hollow and barren like an abandoned house.
“I can pay you ten dollars. I’m saving up for her,” the woman said, warmth spreading across her face.
“You can take them for free. Consider a gift,” he said and packed them.
He gave her the box with trembling hands, as if the delicate string of his survival had snapped. “Thank you. She will love it,” she said, her palm resting on the baby bump.
As the woman walked away, a faint smile crept up his lips. She looked too familiar, reminding him of his first and only love. Was she his little girl? That thought sparked life within him. Or maybe it was another illusion his mind conjured to keep him alive. He extinguished hope before it consumed him.
The shoes found their home, and one day, only if for a fleeting moment, peace would embrace him before eternal rest.
