Wednesday, May 23, 2012

A Summer Breeze

Summary: A New Yorker finds some southern comfort in the form of a freckled stranger with a fondness for fine footwear.
Rating: G


It was a cloudy day in New York City—so cloudy, in fact, that I was didn’t even mind sharing a cab with the brunette who accidentally flagged down the same taxi as me. I was just desperate to be in a dry spot when the rainclouds inevitably burst. It was odd for me—since I had been in the city, I hadn’t met a lot of people, and the chilliness of New Yorkers had somehow penetrated my own veins and tainted my blood.

She was wearing an old-fashioned trench coat and wore her long hair in curls down her back. I didn’t catch a glimpse of her face until she stared at me as I climbed into the backseat next to her.

“Hope you don’t mind sharing,” I said politely.

“Not at all,” she replied, her voice coated in that sweet slowness that is unique to the American South. She turned to the driver to give him the address of her destination.

“That’s only a block away,” I remarked in surprise as the rain started to pour.

Her green eyes shifted up to me incredulously before she extended her leg—on her foot was an incredibly high stiletto, in the brightest red I had ever seen on a shoe.

“Ah,” I replied, still trying to maintain the politeness. “Can’t stand to walk around the block in that deathtrap, huh?”

The expression on her face immediately told me that my politeness was in vain. “I take offense to that,” she informed me, even though her accent made it sound like she was taking a fence. “Of course I can walk around the block in six-inch stilettos. I could walk throughout the entire Saks Fifth Avenue shoe department in six-inch stilettos, and it has its own zip code. Remember that Ginger Rogers did everything Fred Astaire did, but she did it backwards and in high heels. Consider me to be the Ginger Rogers of modern New York City. I just didn’t want to let my babies get wet. I would rather pay money for a cab to go around the block than have to buy a new pair of shoes. Besides, I don't think I could find another pair as marvelous as these.”

“I see,” I replied, feeling a little awkward after her spiel. “Where are you from?”

“South Carolina,” she grinned. “Does my accent give it away?”

“Just a little bit,” I smirked at her. “Why are you up here in the Big Apple?”

“It’s where the wind blew me. I have to say, it was more like a tornado, though, leaving destruction in its wake. I’m still not used to a place where I have to turn on the Weather Channel to see if it will rain. But when you live on a sixth-floor apartment with windows that are painted shut, you have to rely on the television to tell you what to wear.”

“Well…” My voice trailed off as I searched for something to say, but my wardrobe was pretty much the same no matter what: a suit and tie. “Those are some kind of shoes.”

“Thanks. It just seemed like a red high heel kind of day. My Maw-Maw always wore red high heels, so I guess it’s in my blood.”

“Your grandmother?”

“Well, what else is a Maw-Maw?”

“True,” I replied, deeply amused by her spunk and a little enraptured by the freckles on her face. “And what are you doing here?”

“An internship at a publishing house.” She sighed and started thumbing through her purse. “I’m ready for Christmas, to be honest. I am so tired of eating boneless, skinless chicken and having to order a Coke because y’all don’t have sweet tea. Oh, and when I say a Coke, I really mean a Sprite, but nobody bothers to ask me to clarify…”

“I’m sorry we haven’t treated you nicely.”

“Oh, no, New York has been wonderful,” she drawled. “It’s taken some getting used to. My neighbors don’t know my name, and people think I’m weird when I talk to them in the line at the grocery store. But I like it here. I just long for home. If you forget where you came from, then you forget where you’re going. And it’s never good to forget where you’re going. Speaking of…”

I hadn’t noticed that the taxi had stopped until she nodded toward the door. While she handed the driver her measly little fare, I stepped out into the puddle of rainwater mixed with God knows what and held the door open for her. She started to climb out, but glanced down at the puddle and thought better of it.

“Can you pull up, where there’s not a puddle?” she asked the driver.

“Sorry, lady, but I can’t,” he answered, seemingly irritated by her innocent (and perfectly reasonable) question. “The guy in front of me won’t pull up.”

“Well, bless his little heart,” she huffed, her words making no sense to me since she was clearly pissed off. And then I watched in amazement as she lifted her legs, pulled her shoes off, and slipped them inside her coat before stepping out barefoot into the puddle.

“That’s probably a bad idea,” I cautioned.

She just blinked up at me. “Trust me, I’ve stepped on worse. If you can ruin your very pretty Italian leather shoes, I can ruin my unpolished feet. Fred and Ginger, remember? Thanks for letting me share. You technically hailed the cab first.”

I nodded, ready to get out of the rain, but also not wanting to see those freckles go. “Hey, do you want to get dinner with me tonight?”

The words were out of my mouth before I could stop them, but somehow, I didn’t regret them. This girl—no, this lady—was like a summer breeze. I couldn’t resist basking in it, no matter how out of character it was for me now.
She blinked at me again before nodding. “Okay. There’s this deli down the road from here. I’ll meet you there at seven?”

“Oh, I can pick you up—“

“In what? A taxi?” She snorted softly. “No, darlin’, I’m perfectly capable of meeting you there. Besides, I’ll be working until seven anyway.”

“Oh, alright…sounds good.”

“Thanks, “ she said, somehow managing to stretch the word into two syllables. She winked at me before turning and walking away.

And as I watched her disappear from view—with the knowledge that I would see her again that night—I suddenly felt a little less alone in the world.

That was six months ago.

Now loneliness is a foreign feeling to me, because every day, I see a new pair of heels sitting by the door of our apartment. And every day, I hear the padding of her bare feet as they carry her to me so I can kiss every freckle on that beautiful face.