Shoe Strings

up, I called her
number and left a message.   Called
again a few days later.   Nothing.   By this time, my
manager was hounding me, ‘Have you called the girl?   Have you talked to the girl?”   Sophie thought of her long ago boss, her
nasally New Jersey accent and overbearing perfume.   “So I went to the restaurant where she
said she worked, this dive in Midtown.   Lady there told me she’d gone into labor and had a stillborn.   She said Lita would be back the next
week.”
    “Fuck.”   He
looked like he’d been kicked in the gut.
    “Yeah, I felt bad.   Really bad.   She was so young
and so excited about the baby.   It
was a boy.   She’d already named him
Robert.”   She closed her eyes,
wondered what she would do if her baby didn’t live.   It was more than she could stand to
think about in the first few weeks of pregnancy.   “Anyway, I thought sooner or later she’d
return my call or come back to the store, but when another week went by and I
hadn’t heard from her, I went back to the restaurant.   She was working when I came in.   She looked…like a shell, like someone
had come along and turned her light right off.”
    Sophie looked up and saw Jesse listening raptly, his hands
rubbing his knees.   “She gave me
some coffee and refused to sit down and talk even when there wasn’t anyone else
in the restaurant.   I explained that
my boss wanted to place an order for her shoes and she said she’d had several
calls, but she wasn’t making shoes anymore.   I asked her if it was because of the
baby and...well, I could almost hear the lock on her heart click shut.   I just kept coming back to see her.   I don’t know what it was—that she
was wasting this incredible opportunity or that I’d never seen anyone so
sad.   I figured she could use a
friend.   I think I just pestered her
enough to make her agree, just to shut me up.   It took her years to come out of her
shell, to be happy.   She still has a
hard time around babies.”
    “What about the baby’s father?” he asked.   “Was she married?”
    The creaking pipes indicated the water had stopped and
Lita’s shower had ended.   Sophie
sighed.   She’d already said too much.   “That’s for her to tell.”

 

 
    Chapter 33
    Jesse sat on the couch, shook Sophie’s hand when she got up
to leave, and watched her walk quietly out the door.   He couldn’t move, couldn’t put his
scattered thoughts together, could barely breathe.   Still born.   He couldn’t imagine what she’d been
through or what it must have taken to overcome that kind of loss, no matter the
circumstances.   She must have been
so alone, so lost…
    The bedroom door opened and she emerged in a thick white robe,
her cheeks rosy from the shower, her skin glowing with health.   “Did Sophie leave?”
    He stood up, walked to her, and ran his hands through her
damp hair.   Without a word, he
kissed her, poured his soul into the kiss, and tried to make up for all he hurt
she’d been through.  
    She pulled back.   In her eyes he could see she was a little stunned by his serious
expression, a little aroused. “Jesse?”
    He couldn’t answer with words; he was afraid of what would
come out of his mouth if he started talking, so he backed her into the bedroom
and loved her with everything he had.   He healed her with his kiss, his touch, his heart.   He’d never loved a woman more or given
himself to someone so completely.  
    She settled into the crook of his arm, laid her head on his
chest, and sighed contentedly.   He
could feel her heartbeat against his skin, feel the heat of their bodies.   He sat up on one elbow and looked down
into her eyes, so soft, so full of affection.  
    “Angelita,” he said.   “Tell me about the baby.”
    Her breath caught in her throat and the color drained from
her face.   She pushed away from him
and flung herself from the bed.   “It
sounds like I don’t have to.”   She
jammed her arms into the robe and cinched the tie around her waist so hard he
thought she might have drawn blood.   But if blood were to be drawn, she wanted his, he could see by the look
on her face.  
    “Tell me about what happened to you when the baby died.”
    He watched her face crumble, literally sink before she
pulled herself back in.   When she
spoke, there was an icy edge, a cool quietness he’d never heard her use
before.   “Get out.”
    “No.   I can’t,
Angelita.   Don’t you see that?”