I forgot which summer it was, the divorce or the affair, but I had set my eyes on a pair of blue shoes that I had seen in a small store that had just opened in the U district; nanny had brought me there specifically to buy me new school shoes.

My old ones were worn out and the soles were loose. Also, father thought those shoes were inadequate for a young lady of my age.

The conversation between him and mother took place the day before when I was standing with 200 pairs of similar black shoes with nanny forcing every pair onto my little feet.

Father was standing by the bookshelf, perusing a book he had come to pick up, while mother was reading the newspaper in the living room, pretending not to care of his existence.

I had walked in after a walk with nanny to the local park, and was complaining to nanny that my feet were hurting. I was surprised by the scene that I had just entered into and had expected mother and father to start yelling at any second. Instead my father answered my calls for nanny to remove my shoes and lowered his glasses.

"Those shoes are inadequate for a young lady. I bet your mother chose them," he said.

Then he clasped the book in his hands and turned to leave. My mother was clearly offended by what my father had just said. She put down the newspaper and with a quiver in her voice said to me, "Abbey, tell your father that I did pick those shoes and it is not his place to say if they are adequate or not."

Gloria, my seven-year-old dog, had probably sensed that something was about to happen and retreated to the kitchen, with nanny. I started to follow but forgot that I had an assignment from father.

"Father, mother says that she did choose these shoes and it is not your place to say if they are adequate or not." My father's face looked calm, he always looks so when he is most angry.

"Well, Abbey. Tell your mother it is my place as I am your father and I think it's time for new shoes for you."

It went on like this for a while, until father realized he had an appointment to attend and left with mother clearly upset and yelling for more coffee.

I retired to my room and wondered that if I hadn't opened my mouth about my shoes, but rather about my itchy shirt or my oversized pants that mother's friend, Bob, had bought for me. Would father then thought that they were also inadequate for me?

In any case, that is how I ended up in the U district on a Sunday afternoon, the most expensive district there is that mother had insisted I should be taken to as her friend Bob recommended it, being forced to try on so many pairs of shoes by nanny, I had lost count.

After an hour of "is it too big?", "too small?" and "try to walk in it", we had chosen a pair similarly to the one father had thought to be inadequate for a young lady, but in a bigger size.

As we still had several hours until mother would wake up from her Sunday afternoon nap and come looking for us, nanny and I had burgers for our lunch and we walked around the U district, trying to guess the price of the things people were wearing.

We also went in several stores and admired the things hung on the mannequins and the price for them, then we guessed how much it would be for the knockoff in the L district across the town.

After the fifth or sixth store we went to, while I waited for Nanny to look around the store gasping and making various other noises that indicates that the clothes around the store were six times her monthly salary, I browsed around the store myself.

As expected, there were a variety of shirts, skirts, pants and dresses but nothing of interest to me, as mother had once said that to shop there daily costs her an "arm and a leg", which was why I was confused when she agreed when Mr. Bob had told her to bring me here.

After going around the section, perusing through the pink clothes, pink skirts and pink dresses, I found something that supposedly should stand out, but was hidden under all the pink rejects in the discount basket.

A pair of blue slippers. It was a blue I had only seen once before. In a clear sky, from an airplane the last time my parents and I went to our annual trip to San Francisco, it was a good day as mother had just started her anti-depressant medicine and talked to me and father all the way there, usually she just slept until we arrived.

It all went downhill from there. As expected, they fought our second day there, and when we headed home a few days later it was raining and none of us were speaking to each other. I picked up the pair of blue slippers, perfectly curved at the end, with a similar blue bow tying around the tips. It was pretty, and it reminded me of San Francisco.

When we finally arrived home, mother was already up, and reading a magazine in the living room while drinking a cup of coffee, she greeted us briefly, then asked nanny how the shopping went. Gloria was next to her, and greeted us with a jump from the door. She let out a whimper, indicating she was hungry and that mother had forgotten to feed her again, or where nanny kept the food or the bowl.

Nanny filled her in on the afternoon while I tried on my new shoes. They were exactly like my old ones, made out of stiff black leather that hurt my feet every time I walked. After nanny had retired, and mother had finished her third cup of coffee, I thought I should tell her about the San Francisco shoes.

"Mother?" I started to say, she was still reading the newspaper, and gave me little or no response. "I want something."

"Yes?" she managed to groan. I tugged her sleeve in frustration.

"I want shoes." I said, determinedly, remembering what I felt when I first saw those shoes.

"You have shoes," she said. She whipped her head around and gave me a confused look.

"See, I saw these other shoes today. They're really pretty. They're flat and have a ribbon in the front and they're a really pretty color, mother. They're blue, but remember the sky when we went to San Francisco?"

"Which time?"

"Last year. The sky was really blue, and you were asleep most of the time. But it was really pretty. It's really blue and, well, it's the same color as the shoes."

"You have shoes," she repeated, as if not understanding my reasons for wanting these shoes. I knew my mother, and finally let out a grunt and went to my room just in time for Mr.Bob to come in for dinner.

***

The next day, when father had come home from a business trip, I decided to ask him for the San Francisco blue shoes. He had just settled himself in front of the television with a bag of peanuts and a can of soda on the coffee table, and had turned the TV on to a police show. I purposely plopped myself in front of him and smiled a huge grin.

"Hi father, how was the trip?" I asked him, he tried to see the television, but my head blocked his view. He finally relented.

"It was exhausting. And It's great to be back. And, Abbey? I'd like to watch the television if you don't mind," he said, with a huge, heavy voice. He did seem tired.

"Sure, in a minute. Father, I want shoes." I told him, with a decisive tone, like I had to mother.

"You just bought a pair. Nanny told me."

"No, no. I was in this store, father. And I was looking through these discount boxes, and they were all pink, see? And somewhere in the middle, I found these blue shoes, they're really pretty father."

He didn't seem to understand me. So I continued.

"The blue was so calm, so serene. It reminded me of the sky when we went to San Francisco last year, father."

Something struck him, and he sat up. He listened intently.

"Isn't it great father? They'll remind me of San Francisco and our trip. And all from a little item, an object, a pair of shoes."

"I see. Well, if you like it that much then....," he started to say. I barged in by giving him a hug and exclaiming how he was the greatest father, repeatedly.

"So you and nanny go on ahead and buy it next Sunday."

I sat up. "Me and nanny?," I said, my voice a little shaken.

Gloria, leaned in to me, sensing something was wrong.

"Yes?" father said, obviously confused.

"Well, I thought you and mother would take me. Like the San Francisco trip. Father!"

Father's face was sour, like it would look whenever he would come home late at night bringing piles of papers and asking for a drink.

It took him a while to agree, and he didn't definitely say yes, but he said he'd try to cancel the golf game he had scheduled with his coworker, and he'd ask mother.

Soon it was Saturday, the day before the long-awaited Sunday.

Father said he had moved the time for his golf game, and that mother had agreed to go along as long as she was home by noon for her nap. I was already excited, and imagined the San Francisco blue shoes on my feet.

I remembered when I had stepped off the plane, we were all tired, and once we checked in the hotel, we all slept the entire day.

The next day, when I woke up, mother and father had left me a note saying they were having breakfast downstairs and that I should go join them, once I was awake.

Once I got downstairs, I remembered that both mother and father were sitting opposite each other and busy with their own newspapers, they stopped moving their eyes across the pages and acknowledged my presence.

I knew then that they had screamed at each other just minutes before I arrived, probably in the restaurant, in front of the scared waitresses and the amazed spectators that had settled in at their tables for coffee and toast, not knowing they had live entertainment ahead of them.

They had probably fought at the decision to wake me up or not, or about the text messages mother keeps getting, or father's calls to his work. But I knew.

In front of me then was a carefully laid plate, complete with toast, eggs, ham and jam. I resigned myself from my delicious platter, my table, as my parents had announced I had to go for a walk. I knew they would continue their not-so-private discussion once I left the table, and I left them at it. I went out the hotel garden, and the sky was dark. It was not blue, it was hardly blue.

My thoughts were disturbed by nanny's frantic movements, she dusted under the couch in a rush, not like usual when she would do it in precise, detailed movements, she then hurriedly ran to the kitchen when she heard the oven, and came back to the living room with a platter of baked cookies and tea.

"Mr. Bob is coming, you better wash up." She shouted, as she hurriedly rearranged a vase of flowers in the table. I stayed on the couch, looking at nanny who was now a storm. Of course, as expected, Mr.Bob and mother came.

The sound of Mr.Bob's shiny red sport car's roaring was a sign, and when finally there was the sound of laughter and jingling of keys, I knew they were home and would soon be making awkward conversation with me.

"Honey, Mr.Bob's here. Oh, nanny. You made cookies." Mother took a bite of one of the cookies nanny had spent the entire morning baking, and spat it out, mumbling about how she forgot she had begun her Hawaiian diet that morning.

Mr.Bob mumbled about how she looked great. I looked at nanny who was now hurriedly returning to the kitchen, and I was tempted to follow but I knew there was more to come.

"So guess where we were today?" I hadn't had the chance to open my mouth when mother already exclaimed, "That's right. District U! And I asked father while I was there about those shoes you wanted and..............."

Mr.Bob then showed me a plastic bag, with a huge square bulge on it, he let out a big fake laugh and he and mother looked anxious for me to open it.

I hesitated to take it, but could do nothing else. I looked down at Gloria, who was resting on the edge of the couch. She looked back at me, and gave me a sad look. I opened the box. The blue shoes. The San Francisco blue shoes, that had reminded me of the trip me, mother and father had taken to San Francisco and how they were the same color as the blue sky. There was no Bob in that memory.

Bob gave me a huge grin, and proceeded to open his arms, maybe expecting a hug. Or a handshake. I don't know. Mother looked anxious, she hoped I would say something. I didn't know what to say.

"Gloria!" I called to her. Gloria walked over to me and looked at me, her head tilted, her mouth open.

"I have a new toy for you," I said to her, and gave her the blue shoes.

The San Francisco shoes.

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