Shoes

Mel ran to the shoe room while Val waited. The tap, tap, tap of Val’s heels on the linoleum could be heard throughout the entire house – from the grand foyer all the way up to Mel’s shoe room. Too bad, Mel thought, waiting would be a good thing for that shoe-tapping Type A lawyer.

What to wear? Granted, it was only April and the Seattle gray hadn’t lifted for the season yet. Mel doubted it ever would this year. It’d been a gloomy year ever since Val had swept Pat up on New Year’s Eve and had that January affair. Well, screw Pat, though Mel had decided to leave that up to Val. And why not? There was this mansion on the lake, the Mercedes in the garage, and a room full of shoes. All Pat had was monthly visits to the salon.

Mel meandered in the shoe closet, organized to perfection. Winter boots, dress shoes for formal occasions, pumps for their most outrageous parties, rows of tennis shoes for the gym (they always belonged to the absolute latest in gyms), flip flops for boating when they decided to cruise, sandals for those trips down to Catalina (Mel could never understand what Val saw in southern California), and of course work shoes, just to remember what it was like before Val punctured a hole into life.

Tonight they were going to an Obama fundraiser. Their president needed all the money he could get, fighting those evil Repulsivecans. Mel knew perfectly well that Pat would be there with that Suzy Chapstick smile, tanning salon tan, and Botox-filled face. Well, screw Pat – and this time Mel would do the srewing. Val would get a lifetime’s surprise tomorrow morning when coming into the guest bedroom and finding Pat in bed with Mel.