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If The Shoe Fits
Jenny gave us a Hero’s Welcome. “I don’t do this for just anybody,” she said as she escorted Alby to Room Number Seven and even had a hot cup of tea awaiting him. “I thought this would make you a little more comfortable,” she said.
“You’re so good to me,” Alby answered. “And I got smart this time. Look!” he pointed to his slippers. “I’m sure this isn’t very common but I figured that if I had to be here for so many hours feeling poorly, my feet might as well feel good. Like ‘em?” He wiggled his feet inside the brown, fur-lined shearling slippers.
“They’re great!” Jenny agreed. “I know what you mean about having your feet feel good. I stand on mine all day long that’s why I wear these soft clogs. I’d never be able to make it through a work day in bad shoes.”
Before the conversation could continue, we saw a young girl dance by the door; she was visiting a patient down the hall and was wearing a white tutu and leotard with bright purple ballet shoes.
“Dad! Did you see that little girl? Her shoes were purple!”
He laughed in recognition.
Marcy and I were both enrolled in The Michael and Maria Ballet School. Marcy was graceful and talented and I, well, wasn’t. A one-legged half-dead duck had more grace than I. From the moment I walked into that place I was the red elephant in the room and trust me, red elephants definitely get in the way of graceful swans.
Marcy was already in the accelerated classes, having mastered basic ballet, tap and toe. I was placed in beginner ballet and attended the first class very half-heartedly. Unlike my sister, I wasn’t interested in dance but Mom insisted that both of her daughters be introduced to all things ladylike. I was happy with tree climbing but Mom said that didn’t count.
“I can’t dance,” I whispered to Marcy as we approached the studio entrance.
“That’s why you’re here! You’ll learn. I didn’t know how either when I started and look at me now!” she said as she twirled her way through the front door.
“Bravo Marcy!” Maria clapped. “A beautiful pirouette.”
Before I could even wave good-bye I was separated from my sister and led into a different classroom. All the girls were lined up in a neat row against the wall opposite the barre. They looked like cotton candy, dressed head-to-toe in soft pink; not surprisingly, they all stared at my bright red ballet shoes which had been Mom’s compromise with me. I’d go if I could wear red shoes.
Maria began the class by having us stretch and do some basic ballet steps. B-o-r-i-n-g. The other girls were quick learners and I found myself wondering why I couldn’t catch on nearly as well.
“Susan,” Maria instructed, “You’ve got to bend your knees, point your toes and extend your legs more, like this.” As she contorted her body I again wondered why this was important for my growth and development as a girl. Throughout the class I obeyed her instructions and participated as best I could and by the end of the session I knew with certainty I didn’t belong.
Maria bent down to talk with me at eye level. “Susan, next time you come to my class you’ve got to wear different shoes.”
“Why?” I asked.
“Because all the girls in this class wear pink.”
“But I like red,” I answered. “I like pink too but I like red better.”
“Red is lovely but in here, we wear pink. Please tell your mother to buy you new shoes before the next class. See you all next week!” She waved her hand with a flourish and clearly not only the class had been dismissed.;
At the dinner table that evening Alby didn’t hesitate to try and make me understand that this was about more than shoes and to Mom’s chagrin, he was pointed in his lesson.
“Susie Q, there are two types of people in this world. One type wants to blend in and one type wants to stand out. Neither is better than the other but it’s important to know which you are and then live accordingly. Don’t let anyone try to change you. Do you understand what I’m saying?”
“That I should wear my red shoes?”
“Wear them, dance in them, be happy in them. As long as they’re what YOU want to wear.”
I dropped out of dancing school that week but quickly discovered that red ballet shoes were great for climbing trees.
“Comfortable?” Jenny asked.
“I guess I still can’t convince you to make it a Chivas and soda, huh?” Alby joked as he climbed onto the chair and rolled up his sleeve.
“Don’t ever change; you’re such a unique man,” Jenny said as she buried the needle beneath his skin.
“Must be the red ballet shoes,” he answered, winking at me.
