Gabe Damast
Blue Suede Shoes
The sky was a grey water slate outside Erick Growning’s window when the construction started. What began on the first day as the chatter of idle workmen matured to the clang of heavy machinery every morning at 7:00 sharp. The flimsy wall that the foreman erected to separate the two properties and ‘dampen’ the noise was useless. A year ago, all that lay on the other side of that wall was a sparse field that stretched further than Erick could see. Now, all that remained of the field was a small, withered plot near the entrance to the building site on which a colossal sign erupted into the sky. ‘FOOTLOOSE ACRES’ screamed the billboard in large navy blue letters. Next to the letters there was a picture of a man, woman, girl and boy, all with euphoric smiles super-imposed onto their faces. Underneath the happy people there was smaller script that read ‘The Perfect Home For the Perfect Family.’
Erick rolled his eyes each time he drove past the sign on his way to work. His office was on the fourth and final floor of the tallest building in downtown. Most of the residents in Glyndon, North Dakota were content with their small-scale lifestyles, and for Erick as well, four stories were plenty. Erick worked for the Glyndon branch of the Town and Country Real Estate Company, a declining business to go with the declining economy of Glyndon itself. He was sure he would be laid off sometime soon because of the lack of clients. Erick could understand why Glyndon didn’t attract many homebuyers. Nothing much happened in his small suburban town.
On a Saturday halfway through the second month of construction, Erick lay awake in his bed, staring at the water stains on the ceiling of his cramped bedroom. The dirty splotches zigzagged and bloomed in frenetic patterns across the roof. His wife Amy had already left the bed, and he could hear her folding the newspaper in the kitchen.
Erick sighed. He rose, and wandered into the kitchen and sat down.
“I’m going to go talk to that contractor today,” Amy said without looking up.
BANG! WHIZZ! CLACK-CLACK-CLACK!
Erick yawned loudly. “No, no it’s alright, I’ll do it.”
“You said you’d do it last week, and the week before, and the week before, AND THE… Erick, you’d better do it TODAY.”
She lifted her face, and he could see the dark bags beneath her eyes. Their son Jordan was the same way. Luckily, third graders had to get up at 7:30 anyway. One thing was certain, though; the lack of sleep was affecting them all. When Erick had tried to talk to the contractor during the first week of construction, the man had not been there, and he had not been able to find anyone in charge. Their neighbor Bill had gone three weeks ago, and could find no authority figure as well. Amy was right. This had to stop.
After breakfast, Erick threw on a sweatshirt and marched into the building site. He was shocked by how far the workmen had come. There were rows and rows of wooden-framed houses sprawled out for blocks in every direction. In all his years of real estate consulting he had never heard of such progress within a matter of months. How many people have been working on this? It was a cloudy day in October, and the wind blew the flaps of the contractors’ tent violently. He walked forward slowly, and when no one stopped him, he pushed aside the fabric, and stepped inside.
A giant blue sombrero was the first thing that Erick saw. Its presence dominated the small tent, and all else around it seemed to fade into the background. Beneath the obtrusive hat, there was a short, chubby man with a thin, curved moustache. Erick stared for a moment at the little man who was dressed entirely in the same blue material as the sombrero. Everything from his velvety jerkin to the shiny softness of his shoes was the same dark shade of piercing blue. The man glanced up from some papers, and looked at Erick, who stood lamely by the entrance of the tent.
“Why howdy, neighbor!” The man yelled. A grin spread across his face, causing his oily moustache to curve even more severely upward.
“Umm…hello—“
“Hello!! the man exclaimed, looking eagerly into Erick’s eyes.
“Umm…yes. My name is Erick Growning—“
“I know who you are!” The blue man bubbled happily.
“And I live right on the other side of that fence, and—“
“I know where you live!” The man’s smile widened. His eyes, Erick realized, were a deep black, like bits of the night sky positioned in his face.
“Okay, then you’ll know why I’m here…” This man was strange. Despite his short size, he appeared large, and called much attention to himself. Half of Erick told him to turn around, leave the tent, and go home; but he stayed.
“I know exactly why you’re here, and I’m sorry you missed me the last time you came-a-knockin’.” The man’s southern accent was thick, and his words seemed to roll off his tongue hap-hazardly, as if they were not properly finished. “My name is Mr. Semreh and I am the owner of this here property.”
There was something about the way Mr. Semreh gazed at Erick. The man’s beady black eyes felt like they were boring holes in Erick’s skull, and yet Erick could not look away. Eventually, he managed to blink.
“Well then, Mr. Semreh…I need to talk to you about…about—“ Erick’s train of thought drifted away. He was sure he had come to the tent to talk about something, but what could it be?
“As I said, I know exactly why you are here, and I have exactly what you need!” With this, the man glided to the corner, and returned with a large cardboard box. There was no label, and no tape around the outside; it appeared to be sealed from the inside. “Now, I want you to forget about everything, and take this here gift.”
Erick looked at the box as if it were a foreign artifact. “For me?” He stuttered.
“Yes! For you! Just think of it as the holidays come early. Now run along home.”
Erick still could not shake the feeling that there was something important to discuss, but Mr. Semreh was being so pleasant. He took the box, and mustered a ‘thank you’ as he left the tent.
When Erick returned home, he gathered Amy and Jordan, and told them the story of how he had been given the mysterious box.
“Are you serious, Erick?” Amy shot at him after listening to the tale.
THUMP! THUMP! BOOM!
“Yes! He really gave me the—“
“No! What about the noise?! Did you talk to him about the noise?”
Erick wondered why Amy was so angry. The noise was not important. What was important was what lay in the cardboard box.
Erick ran and got scissors, and opened the box.
“ERICK! Did you hear what—” Amy stopped mid sentence as all three of them gazed into the bottom of the box. “They’re beautiful!” Amy exclaimed.
Erick smiled as he reached into the box and drew out one of three matching pairs of blue suede shoes. The smooth material was soft to the touch, and seemed to shed a soft blue light on their dark living room. Erick turned the shoes over in his hands carefully, and there on the side was a pair of white wings sewn onto the fabric. The shoes were stunning, and Erick found himself unable to look away from the exquisite pieces of art he held in his hands. He was lost in a world of blue where time stood still and there were no choices, only velvety, luxurious, pre-determined events.
Erick looked up. There was darkness outside the window, and it was raining again. What time was it? Amy and Jordan were next to him, their eyes fixed on their new shoes – unblinking, unmoving. Hadn’t he gone to see Mr. Semreh that morning? He glanced at the clock. 8:34 pm. What had they done all day long? Stared at the shoes? No…
“Oh, Erick… aren’t they wonderful?” Amy’s eyes were watering as she turned the shoes over and over. “We should try them on. Look! They’re in my size!!”
“Mine too!” Jordan yelled excitedly.
Erick did want to try on the shoes, but he suddenly remembered, “I need to take out the trash, can’t have these shoes getting muddy.”
“Alright dear, but hurry back…” Amy didn’t seem to notice as he stood, shook his head to clear his thoughts, and left the room.
Erick grabbed a trash bag out of the bin in the kitchen, and was greeted by the sound of thunder and rain as he stepped onto the back porch. Lightning lit the sky for a moment, and the gravel path that led around the house was thrown into harsh exposure. Erick inhaled the night air deeply. It tasted faintly metallic, and was refreshing and clarifying. He began to walk towards the front of the house, and with each step, he became more and more puzzled. Where had the time gone? He placed the trash bag in the large silver bin, and turned towards the house. This question would have to wait until morning. He could not quite think straight, and he was beginning to feel queasy.
“Oh dear, just look at these shoes!!!” Amy was dancing around the room in delight. Her footsteps were so light that it almost seemed as if she were gliding.
“I’m tired Amy, I think I’m going to turn in…”
“Oh come on! You need to try on your shoes!”
“No, I’m feeling a little sick, I really just want to go lie down.”
“Pleeaassse darling? For me?”
“No Amy! I’m going to bed!” He was angry, but he had no clue why. His body was in turmoil, as if there was an itch somewhere that he could not quite scratch. How badly he wanted to satisfy the itch, yet he kept walking down the hallway.
Amy began to say something, but Erick didn’t hear as he slammed the bedroom door behind him. Sleep came quickly, and was troubled and full of horrors just out of sight. Feverish dreams plagued him all night long and at last when he awoke it was 10:00 am. He lay for a minute, staring at the blotchy ceiling. He tasted a faint metallic flavor, and he began to feel sick again. The covers at the bottom of the bed had faint blue smudges on them, and were thrown this way and that as if in a hurry. Amy was nowhere to be seen. Had she slept in her shoes?
Erick meandered into the kitchen and there on the counter was a hastily scribbled note.
Erick,
Jordan and I have gone to the worksite to help out. It seems like the least we can do to give thanks for the wonderful shoes. I can’t say when we’ll be back.
- Amy
Erick was dumbfounded. He re-read the note, and re-read it again. When she said ‘to the worksite’ did she mean to work?
He ran into Jordan’s room and sure enough, there were blue-smudged sheets on an empty bed. This was madness.
Erick raced out the door towards the entrance to the sub division. The happy families on the blue sign did not seem inviting today. Their smiles were demonic and foreboding.
Erick stopped on the top of a small bluff overlooking the front gate. There was a gap in the cloudy sky and soft yellow rays shone diagonally on the ground. There were people; hundreds of people. They formed a line in the middle of the street, and were walking onto the worksite. All of their faces bore blank expressions of contentment as they trudged forward. They walked so uniformly that it almost seemed as if they glided along. Erick recognized his colleague Bill Hopkins in the middle of the line. He scanned everyone’s faces quickly in search of Amy and Jordan, but they were nowhere to be found. He realized that all of the people in line were wearing the same awfully familiar blue suede shoes. A deep urge, accompanied by he metallic taste swelled within him, and he almost gagged.
Trying his best not to fall over, Erick stumbled down the hill towards the gate. There was a guard ushering people in, and as Erick stepped onto the property, he was stopped.
“Excuse me, sir, but you don’t have the proper identification.”
“What?” The metallic taste became more intense.
“I’m sorry, sir, but I’m going to have to ask you to leave.”
“Wait! My wife is…. my son! He’s…” Erick collapsed onto the muddy ground, barely conscious. His eyelids began to close, and he was not greeted by blackness, but by a soft blue light. He opened his eyes, and all he could see was a never-ending flood of blue suede shoes and piercing white wings.