"The Shoe"

The Shoe

By Kevin J. Coen

I lost my shoe today. Mammy told me not to, but it's hard. There are so many places that you can lose your shoe-especially the gutter. That's a dangerous place. I got caught in there, and lost my shoe. Mammy says everyone has shoes. She said that they always start off real nice, and if you are careful, they stay that way, but if you run in puddles, they get dirty. She said never to lose my shoe, but it's hard.

I was walking down the street. It was sunny out, and Mammy had given me money to go get an ice cream cone. I like ice cream. Mammy was at work, and I had been with her. She didn't want an ice cream cone. She doesn't let me have them often because she says that they will rot my teeth. I told her I would get dentures-wooden, like George Washington's.

The sun was shining, and I was walking down the cemented walkway of Lincoln Avenue. The light reflected off the shop windows creating a glare, which made it a bit more than difficult to see the displays. I didn't want to hang about long anyway-Mammy told me to keep moving so that strangers wouldn't get me, and give me candy. I told Mammy that I wanted the candy, but she said that they had two kinds of candy, and after I got the sweet one, that I would get the bad one that would put me into a deep sleep like that beautiful girl.

The sky was blue, and the grass that was peeping between cracks in the sidewalk was green. I finally reached the ice cream shop where Mammy always took me. DeBart Creams said the painted letters on the glass front. I went to the glass counter and folded my arms across the top and placed my chin atop one of them. The icy cold of counter began to feel its way onto my skin. I looked down at the many flavors of ice cream inside the casing.

It was beautiful-chocolate, vanilla, strawberry, Neapolitan, raspberry, apple, peach, peanut butter, and my favorite: chocolate marshmallow. These were the flavors of DeBart Creams. They were all good, but there was no matching the smooth, chocolatie taste and texture of chocolate marshmallow. Mr. DeBart-the original owner's son-made all of the ice creams himself. It was the sweat-or rather the work-put into them that made them so good, so personal as you took a spoonful of it and slipped it onto your tongue.

Mr. DeBart appeared from the back room. He was a thin man-I presumed that he never ate any of the ice cream because he was so painfully thin. My Mammy called him "the Audrey Hepburn of male ice cream makers." I didn't know what it meant, but I thought it was funny. Mr. DeBart wasn't married, and some of my Mammy's friends called him an "odd one." I didn't know what that meant either, but I thought it was funny.

"Well, hello there young man," said Mr. DeBart. "How can I help you?" I looked at him and then down-not at any flavor in particular-just down. Mr. DeBart spoke again. "Ahh, of course, the chocolate marshmallow. Quite a good flavor, don't you think?" he asked. I said nothing, and kept still, my head rested against the cold glass. It felt like when I swallowed too much ice cream at once and I got a headache. "Do you want a cone?" he asked. "Well of course you do, you always do." Mr. DeBart retrieved a waffle cone from the side and scooped three large spoonfuls of chocolate marshmallow onto it. I placed the money Mammy had given me on the counter. Mr. DeBart handed me the cone in exchange. "Have a nice day," he said as I exited, licking the ice cream, trying to get a little chocolate and a little marshmallow in my mouth all at once.

I was back on the street. The sun was still shining, so I would have to move quickly to finish off my ice cream before it did. I walked down the same concrete sidewalk again, maybe about twenty feet before I decided that I should sit. I sat on the curb, and ate my ice cream. It was quite possibly the very best ice cream in the world. That's what Mammy told me anyway. I finished the first scoop, then the second, and the third. All that remained was the cone. I stood and began on my way once again. I would finish the waffle cone on the way back to Mammy's work.

I walked some way until I saw a display in a window, not disrupted by the sunlight. I looked at the display to the left, and the one to the right-they both were deemed invisible by the fiery ball in the sky. The window to Marvin's Miscellaneous was nothing special-except for the one item which stuck out from the rest. I reached in my pocket and counted the money I had left. I pushed it around in my hand. A nickel fell. I leant to retrieve it. As I reached down to the cement, the nickel fell through. The cement was replaced by metal bars, and below them, a watery area, cast in red light.

I saw my nickel, and I had every intention of getting it. I reached my arm into the opening between two of the bars. I had my fingers on it. I just had to get a good enough grip to raise it to the surface.

Without warning, a figure appeared in the red shadow, his face only a reddened mass. I jumped back in terror, not sure of what was happening. He laughed-even then, I could not make out his features. He looked up at me and asked if I wanted to have my nickel. I nodded. He held up a dime in the light-his body still not visible-and asked if I would like to have a dime too. I nodded again. I would almost be able to bye the item now. He held up a quarter, and I smiled. He asked if I wanted a quarter. I nodded again-I would definitely be able to make my purchase now.

He held up my nickel, his dime, and his quarter in his hand. He said that if I gave him my shoe that he would give them all to me. I knew that my Mammy didn't want me to give away my shoe, but I wanted the item. I nodded, and handed my shoe to him

I walked into my Mammy's work-I thought I would be happy with the new item, but I wore no smile. I looked at my Mammy and said, "Mammy, I lost my shoe." My Mammy looked down at my feet-both shoes were on.