Stilettos

Rainwater ran along the asphalt turf of Seventy-Second and Amsterdam. He answered when I called, exactly at midnight. I knew precisely where he was standing: crouched over the phone, frown in full display, while solid spit permeated through the holes of the receiver.
He drools when he sleeps, and when he drives, and when he dances. That always irritated me.
“Hello?”
…silence…
“Hello?!”
…silence…
“Who the hell is this?”
…silence…
“Answer me, you, ugh. Shit!”
I almost felt him slamming the phone down on the wooden coffee table that stood next to his auburn couch. Grief-stricken due to uncertainty, he surely stomped and cursed, perhaps even kicked a few things, on his way back to bed. And then he stumbled upon the idea of calling the operator to retrieve the unknown number. Predictable.
“Ring!”
Just as I thought. My ruby lips moved in unison with my thick black eyebrows to form the perfect expression of personal victory.
“Ring! Ring! Ring!”
My voice piercingly echoed in the broken down phone booth, “What an imbecile!”
He hung up and called again, and again…and again. I was certain he wished I’d be the one calling, perhaps to ask if he’d meet me for breakfast at Abba’s Cafe. He couldn’t accept that I was no longer interested in him or his company. He insisted, persisted.
Anxiety is what caused his heart to weaken and his hair to fall out prematurely, before reaching the age of thirty. I anticipated that, in just a few minutes, his heart would cease to beat…so fast.

• * *

I parallel parked my unattractive rental at the curb across the street and sat there in mere restlessness for forty minutes. As I walked west on Seventy-Second, I heard the chirping of the yellow jackets as my favorite black stilettos compressed the dry autumn leaves like paper to a trash stick.
“Click, tap, click, tap, click, tap.”

I held the single key in place and turned it to the right. Perfect! A grin of great accomplishment surfaced upon my lips once again the instant I turned the gold metal knob. Just as I suspected, this dimwit hasn’t changed the locks! I felt the icy chill of the doorknob seep through my ebony leather glove when I gently shut the door.
“Click, tap, click, tap, click, tap.”
A wisp of air cooled the dim apartment and I suddenly felt frozen despite my wool coat, the one he bought me at Lord and Taylor last winter. I couldn’t stop or think of myself then, so I continued to steadily walk through towards the kitchen.
Front, right burner: ‘med.’
Done.

“Click, tap, click, tap, click, tap.”
I pulled the door quietly towards my chest, praying my heart wasn’t thumping loud enough for anyone else to hear.

• * *

Rainwater was still oozing through the newly paved road of Seventy-Second and Amsterdam before dawn approached. This time, when I called, he didn’t answer. I drove over to the rental station, returned the coupé, and paid the minor fee. I worked my way home, walking comfortably in my broken-in stilettos. It was the first time I had seen the sun rise.

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