STILETTO HEELS

by William Racicot

Copyright (c) 1989

`These shoes suck.'

It was generally considered a bad idea to run in spike heels, but, in this neighborhood, taking them off often meant shards of glass stabbing into your feet. So on she ran, spike heels clicking frantically against the pavement.

Feeling her breath grow short, Lucy gradually slowed down. Eventually, she came to a complete halt in a shadowed alley, dark as the passage to Hell. She crumpled to the ground in exhaustion, and outrage at her feebleness welled over her. Slipping off a shoe, she massaged her troubled foot. `Lucy, Lucy, Lucy... when are you going to learn? Never walk anywhere without decent shoes.'

Her reverie was interrupted by the thudding report of a man's shoe striking pavement. Immediately, she crammed her feet back into her less-than-sensible heels, and began clicking away.

But the man's footsteps grew more pronounced, the basso pounding of his dress boots an eerie counterpoint to the quick, high skipping of Lucy's heels. A hand touched her shoulder. She stopped abruptly and whirled around to glare at her pursuer. "What do you want Tyre?" she demanded. Her pursuer was very thin and average height, and the long black trenchcoat he wore emphasized his gauntness. Her shoes made her much taller than he. "Lucy, why won't you sell me that buckle?" he panted.

`He sounds so old...' She glanced protectively at her waist. The buckle her mother had left her rested on a wide leather belt. It was a very exotic looking silver carving of the moon. `I can't believe Mother never wore it. It would have set off the white in her hair so beautifully.'

"I told you, Tyre. It's been in my family forever. I can't just go and sell it to someone who can't even explain why he wants it... Now please, Tyre, if you're going to continue with this, just leave me alone!" With that she spun on her heel and moved to leave.

Tyre grabbed her shoulder again, but she spun about, kicked his left shin with her four inch heel, and stalked off. Her pace was such that the clicking of her shoes against the road was dignified, even majestic, and she held her head high. `That'll teach him not to screw with a Lady!'

Through his agony, Tyre shouted after her, "Lucy! I must have that buckle! Damn, I'm bleeding!"

He began to chase after her once again, but upon hearing his motion, she broke into a sprint. With his injured leg, Tyre simply could not keep up. And now it was throbbing. He turned and began to walk home, the pain in his leg intensifying until it was all he could do to limp.

She ran for a while, until finally she broke a heel and tumbled to the ground. `Dammit! I hate these shoes!!' She sat there a while, gritting her teeth at whatever supreme being had inflicted this day on her. Despite her best efforts at self control, a tear appeared at the corner of her eye. After a few deep breaths, she stood up. Her posture was somewhat crooked, but she limped on, trying awkwardly to compensate for her broken heel. She grimaced. Well, I guess I got what I deserved for running like a madwoman in four-inch spikes...

Some time later, she arrived at an old house, the home of Albert Simmons. They'd been close friends since high school, and she'd been staying with him since her mother's death.

"Al!" she called, pounding on the front door. "Let me in! I forgot my keys! I need to talk to you." When no one answered, she tried the door. `Unlocked... he must be writing...'

Having taken off her shoes, she sat on the floor and began to rub her aching feet. The day's tensions seemed to melt away into the rust-colored rug, like butter spread on hot toast. `Mmmm... That's fantastic...' Once she had eased her throbbing feet, she rose and padded down the hall toward Al's library. There was a mirror on the far wall, and she couldn't help but see her reflection. `God... I'm a mess...' She began brushing her hair with her fingers, to little effect. `Oh well. Al probably won't notice anyhow...' When she got to the library door, she poked her head in and was assailed by the muffled sound of Queen's `Bohemian Rhapsody' played through a headset. Albert sat behind a huge desk, clicking away at his typewriter. He was oblivious to her presence.

It was clear to her that she was not going to get his attention until he was ready to rejoin the universe. The days when you could distract Al from a great idea had ended soon after he realized that these distractions were why he so often forgot what he was writing about. So she yawned and stretched out on the overstuffed sofa near his big mahogany desk.

Tyre had just barely gotten inside his apartment when he fell to the floor, his bleeding leg crumpling beneath him. He groaned in agony, and struggled to get up.

His girlfriend, Amanda, came rushing into the room. "Good Lord, Tyre! What happened to your leg? You look like you've been shot! Here let me take a look at that." She moved over to him and bent down to examine his wound.

"I had a run in with Lucy. She tried to use her shoe to make Tyre shish-ke-bab!" he replied, through teeth clenched with pain.

She probed the wound with a finger. "Oh, and I suppose you'd done nothing to provoke the attack..." Her sarcasm was lost as fresh pain shot up Tyre's leg.

"Argh! I just asked her to sell me her belt buckle..."

"The one her mother left in her will? Really, Tyre, that's in terribly poor taste. And besides, what could you possibly want with that thing? Lucy showed it to me when we were in high school -- we were snooping around her parents' room; it's ugly. Let me get some peroxide for that leg." With that she left the room, returning a moment later with a brown bottle and a bag of cotton balls.

"Get away from me with that!"

"It's for your own good. This won't hurt nearly as much as that leg will if it gets infected." She poured peroxide on a cotton ball and began to swipe it over the cut. She winced at the look on Tyre's face. "You still haven't told me why you want that awful belt buckle."

"I did some research after the first time I saw it." Tyre replied, "As it turns out, it's a relic. It dates back to the Age of Chivalry. That buckle was actually a pendant said to have been worn by The Lady of the Lake. It's not doing Lucy any good, but it would be a fantastic addition to the exhibit of Druidic artifacts over at the museum."

"Well, if she doesn't want to sell it, I really don't see what you can do. It's hers to sell or keep as she sees fit. And it's been in her family for so long, I wouldn't be at all surprised if she's descended from its original owner. Do you really want to piss off the descendant of the Lady of the Lake?" She chuckled a bit. "Lady of the Lake! God!"

He decided to ignore the last bit, reaching for the old pocket watch Amanda had given him when they'd first begun dating. "I think I can persuade her if I can only keep her in one place for a while..." he said thoughtfully.

"You're not thinking about trying that hypnotism garbage again, are you?" asked Amanda. "Don't you realize how much rubbish that is?"

"Shut up, Amanda. It works, and that's all there is to it. Believe me or not, as you will, but that doesn't change anything. And another thing: the Lady of the Lake isn't just a myth. There are too many references to her, to Arthur, and to the whole legend for it to be completely fictional. For that matter, it is widely believed that the legends are mostly based on fact. And I must have that amulet."

"Well, if it's that important to you, I think I heard Lucy was staying with Al for a while -- to help her settle down after her mom's death. There's a laugh. Everyone knows that he's liked her since college," said Amanda, with a grimace.

"Staying with Al, huh? Silly shit probably promised he'd protect her, too. What a pain..." He cringed as Amanda washed out his wound a second time. "Damn! Well, protection or none, I will have that buckle!"

"Don't even think about hurting Albert, Tyre. I know you two haven't gotten along that well in the past few years, but we all had some great times together, back in school. I like him."

"I will do whatever I have to do to get what I want."

At that, Amanda rolled her eyes to the sky and stalked out of the room, taking the peroxide with her. Tyre sat looking at a red cotton ball. His leg smelled like disinfectant. `Good Lord...' He got up, and limped over to the door through which Amanda had left the room. He went to the medicine cabinet and removed a length of gauze bandage and some tape. He bound up his leg, and then headed painfully for the front door.

Amanda called out, "Don't take off yet, Tyre. I'm going with you."

A few minutes later, they departed for Albert's house.

Lucy sat up, and saw Albert looking at her. He looked confused, like he always looked when she appeared while he was writing. "Hello, Lucy..." he began uncertainly, "How long have you been here?"

"Oh God... I don't know... I think I fell asleep." As she got a bit reoriented, she remembered the evening's events. "Al? I wanted to talk to you about Tyre..."

His confusion melted, as he focused full attention on the woman before him. "What's up?"

She told him about her encounter with Tyre, and then asked, "What am I going to do about him? He's obviously not going to leave me alone until I give up Mother's belt buckle."

"Hmm... don't worry about Tyre, anyway. I'll take care of him. But why does he want the thing? I mean, I really can't see him wearing anything so..."

"Watch it."

"...large. Can you think of any reason why he might want it?"

Lucy thought of the events leading up to the evening's festivities. "No, but he wants it badly. He offered to pay me a lot of money for it. I wonder why..."

Her contemplation was halted abruptly by a pounding on the door. "Guess who..." They went to the front door and Albert innocently called, "Who is it?"

"It's Tyre and Amanda," came a deep voice from outside. "Is Lucy in there? I wanted to talk to her."

Lucy frantically shook her head no. Her eyes pleaded that Al not reveal her presence. He whispered to her, "Don't worry; I'll take care of Tyre."

Then he opened the door and saw Tyre leaning on Amanda. His leg was bandaged up tightly. "God, Tyre...I haven't seen you forever! How've you been? I see you're still with Amanda..." Al looked ruefully at the woman in question. "Well, how can I help you?"

Tyre replied, "Actually, it's Lucy who can help me," He limped through the door, followed by Amanda. "Have you thought about what I said, Lucy?"

"What happened to your leg, Tyre?" she asked innocently.

"Lucy..."

"All right," she said, almost giggling, "I told you before, Tyre. There are too many memories wrapped up in this. I can't just sell it to the highest bidder. Especially not to a buyer who won't say why he wants it."

"I'm afraid I won't take 'no' for an answer, Lucy." He moved toward her, reaching for her waist. Albert interposed his larger body between Tyre and Lucy.

"Sorry, Tyre, but I can't let you do that. If you want the buckle..." At that he reached back and took it from Lucy's belt, which promptly fell to the floor. "...You'll have to take it from me."

"Fine, then. If that's the way you want it-"

Amanda cut him off. "Uh, Tyre, I don't think this is a very good idea..."

"Wait a minute, Al." commanded Lucy. "This isn't right. Give me the buckle, and I'll deal with Tyre."

Al backed down, handing it to Lucy, with the final note: "Tyre, you can't have the belt buckle. It belongs to Lucy and until you convince Lucy that she wants to sell it, you'll just have to do without.."

"I think I can convince her..." said Tyre, taking out an old pocket watch Amanda had given him when they first began dating. He set it to swinging and looked askance at Lucy, "If the lady is willing?"

"What do you have in mind?" she looked straight into his eyes.

Tyre said, "How about this: If, after ten minutes with you -- no contact of course -- I can convince you to sell me your bauble, then I will give you a substantial price for it. If after those same ten minutes you still insist on keeping it, then I will leave peaceably, and never again bother you about it."

Albert looked over at Amanda and winked. She barely suppressed a burst of laughter.

Lucy said, "Fine. Does tomorrow night sound good to you?"

Tyre nodded, "Tomorrow night it is, then."

After careful consideration, Lucy's hand settled on a blue dress. She brought it out and set it next to the red one on the bed. Looking at each in the mirror, she finally decided on the blue. `This will look great with Mother's belt buckle.' She replaced the red dress in her closet, and then began to put on the other. She chose a new pair of shoes, high heels the same color as her dress. The overall effect, once she had added a silver chain belt fastened by the moon buckle, was dazzling.

"Hey Al," she shouted, poking her head out into the hall, "How do I look?"

His head appeared around the corner, followed by the rest of his body. "Why? Are you fishing for compliments?" She glared playfully at him. "You look fantastic. Is my tie straight?"

Lucy spent a few minutes adjusting his black tie, and just as she finished, there was a familiar pounding on the front door. "Showtime..."

Al opened the front door, exposing Tyre and Amanda, who came inside, shutting the door behind them. Amanda wore a gray slit dress which, though simple, brought out her figure beautifully. Tyre, on the other hand, was dressed all in black, his suit finely tailored to make the most of his slight build. He leaned upon an ebony cane which was topped by a gold carving of a dragon's head. His watch chain, hanging from its pocket, balanced out the ensemble.

Lucy maintained her composure, realizing that she struck quite an impressive figure herself. "You look very nice, Tyre." She said, politely.

"So do you." He replied, careful to keep the awe out of his voice. Al and Amanda simply stared at the imposing couple.

After what seemed an awfully long time, Al broke out of the trance. "Well, you may as well join me in the kitchen, Amanda. I have a feeling these two want to be alone. Lucy, Why don't you take Tyre to the living room?"

Al's living room was not very large, but it was comfortable. The most prominent feature was an overstuffed couch. The brown upholstery had seen better days, but it was still functional. In front of that was an old but sturdy coffee table with the finish worn in places. There were a few more chairs on either side of the room, and the floor was covered by a rusty-orange carpet.

"Lucy, why don't you get comfortable on the couch. Stretch out..."

"Tyre you promised that this would be no contact." She teased, but she did as he instructed. He sat, facing her, on the old coffee table.

"Hey Tyre, why do you want my belt buckle, anyhow?" She asked, genuinely curious.

"I'd rather not say. You probably wouldn't believe me if I told you." He dodged.

"Come on, Tyre, try me."

"Fine." He said, "But you won't believe me. This so-called belt buckle that your mother left to you was actually a pendant worn at the bosom of the Lady of the Lake. I had hoped to add it to my collection of Druidic relics."

Lucy looked him straight in the eye and said, "Bullshit." He stared right back into her eyes, but refused to comment. "You aren't kidding, are you?" She looked down at her waist and saw the amulet hanging there, but it seemed much heavier now.

Tyre cleared his throat, "If we could get on with this..."

"Right." Lucy looked over at him.

He took out his gold pocket watch, and began to swing it gently before Lucy's eyes. The two relaxed, and after a few moments, they had achieved a subtle rapport. Presently, Tyre began to whisper, "You are more comfortable than you have ever been before..."

Almost unconsciously, Lucy reached down and unfastened her belt. She raised the silver moon by the chain, and allowed it to follow the sleepy motion of the gold watch. "Yes... comfortable... ever before..." She whispered after him.

"You feel your desire to possess the Amulet of the Lady fading, blowing gently away like pollen on the breeze..."

"...the breeze..." Lucy slowly straightened her back up until she and Tyre both sat facing one another. Gold and silver were lowered, as man and woman rose. They stood, each staring into the other's eyes, she gripping the moon, he the dragon.

But to Tyre it seemed a staff. He saw before him, not a woman in a blue dress, but the Lady herself, blue gown flowing, almost as though in a breeze, her posture regal. Barely showing beneath the hem of her gown, a pair of stiletto heels poked their way into view. And he was Merlin, gripping his staff intensely, his black cloak fluttering.

Her eyes bore deeply into his, and she said, "No Tyre, I'm afraid it's your desire which has faded."

But it seemed to him that she had said, "Dear Merlin... You've no power over me." And it occurred to him that she was right.

Bill Racicot is a sophomore stuck in Limbo because of a paperwork error in the school of the humanities at Carnegie Mellon University. In the past, he has been a student of mathematics, an actor/singer, an accounts receivable clerk, and a human interface between man and a VHS(tm) machine.

wr0o+@andrew.cmu.edu