Jon flew down the hallway, and then back down the stairs, with a confidence and assuredness that he had not displayed on the trip up only a few minutes earlier. He made his way to the foyer, and opened the door to the coat closet, where he found the answers to his immediate dilemma, right there where he had left them.
Jon carefully, but carefully, picked up the chestnut-colored suede Ugg boots in precisely Sarah's size, and carried them back up to the bedroom with him. Carefully placed them on the floor in front of the walk-in closet. And carefully stepped one foot, and then the other, into them.
The shoes were initially confused. "Jon?"
"I need your help."
The shoes could hear the nervous panic in his voice. "You need my help?"
Jon exhaled, then nodded. "I don't know what to do. Daddy's taking us out to the Oxbone Tavern, and I need to dress up nicely." Jon didn't quite catch that he'd referred to Sarah's father as "Daddy."
But the shoes did. To the extent that shoes can feel anything, they felt almost surprised at the sincerity of Jon's plea. Jon had come to them for help, and he meant it. Somehow, this was important to Jon. Important that he get this right. So of course the shoes would help.
"First things first, your leggings are fine, but that ratty shirt has to go," the shoes informed him. "Take it off."
Jon followed these instructions.
"Do you see the cherry red minidress?" the shoes asked. "To your right, about three feet ahead of you. Spaghetti straps, empire waist, ruched bust."
"Yeah," Jon answered, reaching for the appropriate hanger.
"Unzip the back, put it on almost like a regular shirt, then zip the back up again."
Whereas earlier exchanges were marked by disagreement and conflict, Jon now found himself obediently following every suggestion that the shoes made. And it felt natural to do so. Normal. His hands remembered zipping up this dress before.
"Good, now smooth it out, give a few light tugs at the hem, and straighten out the bust a little."
Jon followed these instructions as well.
"Put on the black leather jacket that's on the other side of the closet The one with the big, silver zippers."
Jon did so.
"Now look in the mirror."
Jon found a full-length mirror on the back wall of the closet.
"Give me a twirl."
Jon spun himself around.
"You're beautiful."
"I'm beautiful," Jon whispered.
"But you're not quite done yet," the shoes told him. "Go out to the makeup table. You don't have too much time, but you should at least be wearing some lipstick. Open the white plastic makeup box, and there will be a lipstick called 'Flamenco Red' right on top of everything. That's your go-to, so put it on."
Jon applied the lipstick. This was his go-to, and somehow he knew exactly how it would look on him.
"Put on that silver necklace with the heart pendant. And the matching bracelet."
Jon did everything. "Is that all?"
"Almost." If shoes could smirk, the shoes would have been delivering a classic Sarah McMillan smirk right in that moment. But it would have been one backed by pride at how well Jon had followed instructions. "There is one last thing you need."
Jon glanced at the clock: 6:39. "Is it going to take long?"
"No, it will only take a minute," the shoes assured him. "Go on back to the closet. Look in the mirror. You tell me what doesn't fit."
Jon walked to the closet and looked in the full-length mirror. He saw a face that had a tasteful layer of lipstick applied, just enough to be noticed without standing out. He saw a delicate silver chain necklace, which drew the eye downward to a gorgeous red dress. He saw a black leather bolero jacket, whose bright silver zippers provided the perfect contrast. And he saw black leggings that lead down to... Oh.
"You don't match the rest of the outfit," Jon informed his shoes as a hollow feeling developed in his chest.
"I know, sweetie," the shoes consoled him. "You did a good job, but I'm not going to be with you the rest of the night. That's why I saved shoes for last."
"Shoes are important." Jon said in almost a monotone.
"Shoes are very important," agreed the shoes.
"Are you sure?" Jon asked.
"Look in the mirror, Jon. Are you sure?"
He didn't answer.
"Listen," the shoes said, "I'll be here waiting when you come home. You can tell me everything."
Jon closed his eyes. "Just tell me which ones I should wear."
"On your right, fifth from the back. Knee-high leather boots with a chunky three-inch heel and a big silver chain around the angle, with a heart-shaped buckle."
Jon opened his eyes. "I see them."
"You have to take me off, Jon."
"I know."
"Your mom's waiting downstairs."
Jon paused.
"Thank you," he finally whispered.
"You're welcome," the shoes answered back.
In the next moment, Jon couldn't hear the shoes anymore.
