Heels by Jessica VanderWerff

 The first short story is here!! The first short story is here!! 😀 Can you tell I'm excited?? 

SO!! The first prompt that we all agreed on is, "A stranger makes an odd request. " We all went forth and began to write on this prompt, and the first person to finish was Jessica!! Therefore, below we have her story. She read it to me and I loved it. I hope you love it, too. Feel free to comment below with your thoughts. We would love to hear from you. Without further adieu, here is Jessica's story, 

Heels

I hate the sound of high heels on pavement. It doesn’t sound sexy to me; it sounds like a broken ankle waiting to happen. I wore the heels that night though because Mom always liked it when I dressed up for family functions. I only went to Katie’s Sweet 16 because she was there for me when Mom died; the other cousins ignored me. Dad said they just didn’t know what to say. I think that’s a piss poor excuse, so I showed up for Katie, got her a new silver charm for her charm bracelet, then I snuck out of the party. 

I took off my shoes and sat on the dock by the waterfront. Mom always said I wasn’t being social enough for my age. She didn’t really get me. Alone but not lonely is just how I like it. I heard footsteps behind me. Thinking it was Dad, I turned around and smiled. Standing there was a woman about Dad’s age in a purple cardigan and oversized blue jeans.

“My daughter loved those types of heels,” she said, gesturing towards my shoes.

“Ok. Well, I hate heels,” I mumbled. “My mom always made me wear them because she said they looked nicer than flats. You’re smart though, looks like you’re wearing flats.”

She laughed a high pitched cackling laugh. It was the type of laugh she probably got bullied for when she was younger, but I liked it because Mom had had a similar laugh.

“I like flats because they’re more comfortable, but my daughter loved the kind of heels you have there. I always told her they were bad for her feet but she never listened. What are they called again?”

“Wedge heels,” I answered

“Ah, yes, the wedges. They’re all my daughter wore as soon as the weather got warm enough for open-toed shoes. Anyway, do you mind if I sit with you for a moment?”

I shrugged, then nodded. We sat in silence for about a minute until I asked: “How long have you been without her?”

“Ten months. It feels like longer though.”

“My mom died around that time too. It feels shorter for me though. It feels like she was here yesterday, then I woke up today and she was gone. It hasn’t hit me yet. I feel like she’s just away on a work trip and any day now she’ll walk right through the door.”

“I don’t think it will ever get easier,” she explained. “I think we just learn how to deal with it.”

“Yeah, you’re not the first person who I’ve heard say that.”

We sat in silence for a moment before she whispered: “Honey, I wanted to ask… oh, never mind it’s probably a bit strange.”

“No, what’s the matter?” I whispered back.

“Well, the reason you caught my attention, you see, it wasn’t really about the shoes, my daughter’s hair was just like yours. Curly hair, same texture and everything. That’s the real reason why I came over here.”

“Oh, that’s cool. So what did you want to ask?”

“Never mind. As I said, it’s strange.”

“I’m sure it’s not.”

“Well, since your hair is like how my daughter’s was, do you think, maybe could…could I braid your hair, please?”

I reached back and took my hair down from the high ponytail. “Sure.”

She smiled, looking relieved. She separated my hair into sections and brushed it out with her fingertips and began humming as she braided. Mom loved that song too.

You are my sunshine, my only sunshine…

I tilted my head back and closed my eyes, remembering my family’s last vacation together. We were camping and dad built a fire so I could roast marshmallows. Mom said they were way too sweet for her but I liked them. I ate another marshmallow, then another, then another. I expected Mom to tell me that I shouldn’t have any more, that I should watch my figure for the upcoming soccer season, but she didn’t say anything at all. She braided my hair while I ate. Mom began humming but stopped when I shivered.

            “Cold, sweetheart?”

            I nodded. Dad put more wood on the fire. As it popped and crackled, embers rose like crazed fireflies racing towards the crescent moon in the night sky. When Mom was done braiding my hair, I leaned back and rested my head in her lap. She traced around my face with her fingertips, something she’d done since I was a toddler. Whenever I had a crippling migraine or a nightmare and couldn’t fall back asleep, she’d sit with me for as long as I needed her, gently tracing my face, until the pain subsided or until I drifted back to sleep. Sometimes I’d try to do it myself, but I felt foolish touching my face in the hopes of chasing away a migraine or a monster from nightmares I thought I was far too old to still be having. It just wasn’t the same as when Mom did it.

“There, all done.”

I reached back and felt the long braid. It was tight and made my hair feel tame for once. It wasn’t at all how Mom did my braids. She did them loosely on purpose so they’d come undone because she knew I liked my hair wild, even if she didn’t like it that way.

“Thanks.” I smiled.

“Thank you. For just a moment there I had my daughter back with me.”

“And for a second, I felt like I was back with my mom.”

We stood in silence for a moment before she gestured towards my shoes. “You know, maybe those wedge heels aren’t so bad. Maybe I’ll give them a try.”

“Good luck!”

We both laughed, and then she hugged me so gently I imagined she thought I would break.

“I live right up this street in a little blue house with three teacup Pomeranians. You can visit anytime.”

“Thank you,” I smiled.

She nodded, turned, and walked away.

I sat down on the dock, undid the braids and put the heels back on. Mom always liked it when I wore heels.

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We hope you enjoyed this first story! If you want to read more of Jessica's work you can find her books HERE.