The Last Shoemaker by Dasilva Rita;

Author:Dasilva, Rita;
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Austin Macauley Publishers
Published: 2019-06-28T00:00:00+00:00

The Sixth Shoe

Maurice felt empty inside; the pain numbed him. He held onto his mother as she approached the casket. She wept. The man inside the coffin was barely recognizable. It all felt like a dream, not real. One moment his father was standing with him in the shop and the next, he was lying motionless on the floor. How quickly people flee, the lives they leave behind forever scarred with memories. Billy stood beside Maurice, giving his hand a tight squeeze of reassurance.

He looked at her with a solemn smile and squeezed his hand back.

I don’t think you’re ever ready for the death of a loved one. I still remember my father working late hours in the shop. He taught me the meaning of perfection and work. Even now I still miss him, it still hurts. I suppose the pain of the loss never goes away completely, but slowly subsides into a dullness that’s manageable. Yeah, he was a great man, and I had to step into his shoes and become the cobbler.

“You’re home.” Billy was waiting in her evening garment on the sofa.

“Sorry it’s so late.” She stood up and walked over to him.

“I was beginning to think you’ve forgotten where we live,” she said with a wry smile.

“I know, I know. It’s just I have twice the amount of work now.”

“Uh huh.”

“And I really needed to get the shoes made for the customers.”

“Maurice, look at me.” He turned from hanging his jacket.

“Yeah?”

“You’re overworking yourself. You have been ever since the funeral.”

“I don’t want to talk about that.”

“That’s the problem, I think you should.”

“Well, it’s not about what you think!”

Billy took a step back, aghast.

“No, it’s about you,” she said in a calm, soothing voice.

“I’m sorry, I’m just not ready yet.” He took a step closer to Billy and embraced her.

She settled her face in his chest.

“I just love you.”

“I know, I love you too.”

I’m not sure when I decided to make another shoe again for myself; I had waited for some time before I made it. I just needed to escape reality and see him again. If you had the chance to see a loved one again, wouldn’t you grasp it?

Maurice finished sewing the last stitch. It was a perfect replica of his own shoe from when he was about ten, just larger. He’d even used the same laces. His father never got rid of a shoe. Instead, he’d repair it and mount it in his shop. The east wall told the story of Maurice’s childhood. Hopefully, this would work and he could see the man again. One last time to say good-bye. He stood in the shop wearing the shoes. Nothing seemed to change.

“Maurice, what are you doing in my shop?” He turned around, wide-eyed.

“Nothing, Father.” He barely recognized his own voice.

“Your mother’s looking for you, go on.”

“Yes, sir.” But Maurice stood slowly, letting it all in, absorbing his father’s face.

“What’s the matter with you? Get going.”

“Right.” He dashed into the back and left the shop behind.

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