Brown, suede shoes

Brown, suede shoes

The cars swished by, spraying the rain and muck as they went, each one
focussed on it's own destination. Headlights stared onwards, tires span
widely, challenging time, racing each second, determined to achieve the
impossible. The drivers somehow metamorphosed with the tough metal
exterior. Their minds working like part of a machine, no longer human
or softened to emotion but trans-fixed on self-centred desires. The car
at 30 miles per hour was too slow- it was an outsider attempting to
alter routeen- eat into a day. The woman waiting to cross was just
another object intruding on something that didn't belong to her. The
two thin strips of concrete slightly raised from the tarmac road
surface were hers- they were another world- another territory separate
to the machine.

To the vehicle, Julie was no one; she was just another figure. Her
long, bedraggled, chestnut hair and deep eyes hardened to tears were
passed by, as was the inner pain and torment that haunted her with
every raspy breath. Later, she was nothing more than a mad woman
subject to a dinner conversation around the family table, forgotten a
few days later amongst the continued routine's and commitments of every
day life.

As she placed the brown, suede shoe onto the dark wetness of tarmac,
and then the other, unconsciously there was the reoccurring feeling
that she didn't quite belong. It was a familiar feeling, one that
created a slight twang of sickness similar to that of the first day of
school after the holidays. A feeling that dug up deep- pitted emotions
that could never quite be brushed aside. It was not her fault that she
failed to anticipate the monster tucked behind the corner, or that the
first prick of wetness from her left eye duct blurred the murky objects
into a washy watercolour. Perhaps if she had not avoided that puddle
minutes earlier, she would now be safely onto the other strip of
concrete. Then, the little boy would not have stared in excited fear as
his mother hurried him on hastily. Then she would not be just another
statistic or passing name in the daily papers.

Luke had never met Julie and Julie had never met Luke. Perhaps they had
passed by at some point in the past. It was even possible that Julie
had hated Luke as she brushed his jacket with her folded arm, her head
turned downwards onto the paving slabs, eyes scrutinizing the hardened
blob of chewing gum and empty chocolate bar wrapper. Yet their
conscious minds had not yet spared a second of it's precious time to
include each other in the list of acquaintances and Julie's never
would. Before this moment it was an impossibility to Julie that she
would be marked permanently on the 20 year olds brain. That she would
have an input in his future love life, career and nightmare's.

No one knew or cared where Julie was heading that day or where she was
coming from as they sped by. Only later was that small building tucked
behind a row of fir tree's a known fact. No one bothered to pay
attention to the waiting area with the small, golden bell and
collection of rooms, one of which had been subject to the brown, suede
shoes a small time earlier. Even after the incident, no one bothered to
discover the words that had passed between the two women that day, they
just assumed or imagined.

Even in Julie's mind, that chilly morning, the words on the
rectangular, white sign reading 'mental health and social care centre'
seemed daunting. The brown, suede shoes, now saturated with water,
paused tentatively for a moment while her thoughts span restlessly. She
pulled her black jacket further around her body, observing how the
fuzzy material was now dotted with hundreds of tiny, shimmering
droplets. The rain had ceased for a time, however the heavy clouds
above were moving swiftly threatening further downpours. As another
heavy splash landed on her now frizzy hair, she made a dash for the
door to the building and heaved it open, to meet an uneasy
warmth.

The opening to her left led through to the reception area containing a
long desk and about six chairs surrounding a small table dotted with
dated editions of health and beauty magazines. To her, it seemed ironic
that the very ideas that had an input into destroying and distorting
the minds of many of these people could be so carelessly and ignorantly
included in such as place as this.

Seated on one of the soft- cushioned chairs was a woman with short,
straight, dark hair. It hung immaculately around the oblong face,
emphasising the down turned features and burrowed frown that looked
only to the past. Alongside her was a girl of about 19 flicking through
a magazine. Her smooth leg and heeled boot crossed over the other,
swaying backwards and forwards rhythmically. Her curled, blond locks
licked at the powdery face and cherry lips mistaking insecurity for
confidence. Just two more forgotten victims seeking healing for their
bleeding wounds.

The golden bell sat on the vacant desk and Julie reached a shaking hand
to ring it. The startling clang, chimed out through the silence, rudely
demanding assistance. A small woman promptly emerged and stared
expectantly at her. The years had removed any glimmer of sensitivity or
compassion from the elderly face as the broken life before her was yet
another customer filling a tediously long, nine hour day. Perhaps if
she would have known what was to come that day she would have made an
effort, perhaps then she would have forced a friendly smile to calm the
young woman's nerves. Instead she silently took the woman's name and
called for Val who ushered Julie into another room.

The now smaller room again contained six soft- cushioned chairs of
varied sizes semi- circled around a low coffee table, which held a box
of Kleenex tissues. Val smiled warmly as she placed herself on a chair
opposite Julie. As she did so her flabby flesh wrinkled into itself
disguising her chin and her eyes flashed briefly. Her tight fitting,
casual navy jumper and tracksuit bottoms relieved the tension slightly
as Julie's twitching hands dropped to her lap.
"So what can I do for you?" The soothing voice questioned somewhat
patronisingly. The sort of question often heard when visiting the
doctor about a headache or minor ailment took Julie aback.
"Um&;#8230; well my doctor referred me to you? About,
some&;#8230; err&;#8230; problems I've been having."
It seemed a fairly impossible answer. 35 years of her life weren't
easily explained in a brief sentence. The word 'problem' seemed to
minimize the issue; break it down into a bite size chunk that covered
million's of people's grief and pain throughout history.

As Julie focussed on the spot of dirt on the white- washed wall ahead
of her, spilling her inner, most private troubles to a complete
stranger, it seemed that the situation wasn't her own. She watched
helplessly as the woman she had been inside for so long, painfully
re-called her past and she felt almost detached, as if this woman was a
sad case from a TV documentary she barely knew.

If she would have been aware, herself, of what was waiting for her
outside, the thing that was to bring an empty closure to a wasted life,
then she wouldn't have hurried so quickly from that room after the two
women had exchanged dates for a following meeting and said their
strained goodbyes. Perhaps then, Val would have seen more than another
woman with issues and offered more than a superficial friendship every
couple of weeks. Val didn't know that in a few months later, this woman
she had just watched leave the room would be replaced by a young man,
forever haunted by that same image catapulted onto his
windscreen.

The vehicle didn't stop as it hurtled round the bend towards the brown,
suede shoes. Maybe if its tough exterior would have realised the impact
its speed could have on an already softened shell it wouldn't have been
in such a rush and its pounding music wouldn't have been quite so
loud.

A few minutes later, Luke met Julie. This time he did take note of her
flashing eyes and swishing hair as he slammed on his breaks to an
eventual screeching halt. This time the drivers did turn and pay
attention as her limp body crashed onto their territory in a shattered,
bloody mess. This time she did have an impact on the life of a busy
passer by who turned away to vomit in the bushes by the road. This time
the vehicle did stop for the brown, suede shoe, no more alive than
Julie, flung to the other side of the road.