Page 53… in a fiction series
Miranda left Petoskey after her successful meeting with Tiller, singing ”Bohemian Rhapsody”– the opera section– louder than usual. Back in Charlevoix, she stopped at Jack’s Steakhouse and ordered a Reuben for lunch, not even thinking about a cold beer. (So far, there were no shakes, sweats, or cravings. Giving up alcohol wasnt’ as hard as the thought…)
Before she left the office, Tiller said she would need a proper business wardrobe, several suits on hand in case she was working out-of-town and needed to stay. He offered her an advance against her pay, enough to buy her favorite labels, plus proper shoes and a handbag. Miranda trembled with excitement, praying that her new job would not get off to a reckless, manic start.
She finished one last greasy fry, headed down to the Boat Basin, and greeted Neil Lipman who was smoking by the lady’s room. Miranda ducked inside, took off her black pumps and delicate ultra-sheer hose, then carried them down the dock barefoot, determined not to fall and damage her fine accessories. Even though the snow had melted, the dock was really cold.
“Have you lost your mind, Miranda? Finally snapped? The shoes go on your feet, not on your hands.” Luke hiked up his jeans revealing L.L. Bean duck boots to prove his point.
“Hi Luke,” she said unfazed.
Ron shouted, “Hey, where’ve you been? It’s not like you to roll out of bed before noon.”
“I got a job, Ron! A really good job, and I start Monday!”
“I can’t believe it, Miranda,” Luke bellowed. “You mean someone actually fell for that fake resume?”
“It isn’t fake.”
“Is not! I’m going aboard my boat now, Luke, because my toes are freezing, and I want to tune out the sound of your lovely voice.”
“Yeh, sure. Just remember Monday morning not to show up at work barefoot. Even your fake resume won’t get you out of that one.”
As Luke’s voice faded like a distant clanging gong, Miranda counted out her lithium pills on the counter. Her days of skipping doses were over. She pulled on her brown work boots, a stylish look with her suit, and returned to the dock with all her bottles. The dockmates took the liquor off her hands, impressed that she was willing to give up her stash. Maybe there was hope for Miranda after all…
Today was Miranda’s birthday, and besides landing a job, she couldn’t think of a better place to celebrate than Grand Traverse Mall. Shopping always made her think of Harry. He had such good taste, and loved to see her all dressed up. She wished he was there to help her pick out a new birthday suit. He would have liked that.
With an armload of proper clothes still on the hangers and several glossy shopping bags, Miranda returned to her boat rejoicing, just like it says in Psalm 96, the one she read last night. Although it was dark, something drew her out to the end of the pier. She sat quietly, feet dangling off the edge, and looked out into the cold. With limited experience praying to anyone, including the ambiguous ”Higher Power” of Alcoholics Anonymous, she took a moment to thank God. Though she didn’t know Him well, she hoped He was listening.
The LORD has heard my cry for mercy;
the LORD accepts my prayer. Psalms 6:9 (NIV)
To be continued…
*This story is based on some true events, however, has been fictionalized and all persons appearing in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
© 2012, Shoes for an Imaginary Life. All rights reserved.