If The Shoe Fits

I watched helplessly as the police opened my storage unit, letting the light fall over my shoe collection; my dark secret finally revealed to everyone. David, my loving husband, stood in shocked disbelief at my side. He told me my obsession would catch up to me one day. I guess it finally had.

I stepped forward to pull the police away as their hands (even gloved) roamed over my neatly shelved collection, - they were touching my babies and ruining them! - but Detective Mathis blocked my access, his face grim from the sight and smell in the storage unit. He turned and studed my babies; like jewels, they gleamed under the lights. Once again, I found myself entranced in their beauty like I had the first time I laid eyes on them. I wanted to hold them, caress them, love them as I had always done when I found myself inside the unit, alone. Finally, Mathis’ gaze shifted back to me; his face tight and perplexed. He didn't understand my collection, or the lengths I went to acquire them, I realized.

My shoe compulsion was a need, like my need for oxygen to survive. When I saw a pair of shoes I liked, I just had to add them to my collection. It had started out as a one-time impulse, but then it ballooned into something out of my control. I know I should hate myself for what I've done, for what I've become, for destroying my life, my marriage to David. I can’t.

I watched as the uniformed officers began to pull the shoes from the storage unit, pair by precious pair. I told them to mind my collection; I didn't want them ruined. But they didn't listen and continued examining the shoes. With each gaze inside the well-crafted footwear, the officer’s faces grew with revulsion.

News about what I’ve done was going to spread. Oh, God, what will the neighbors think when they find out? My boss is going to think I’m a nutcase – I’ll lose my job. And the kids! Oh, I didn’t even think about Jackie and Cliff, nor about the ramifications of mommy’s collection being exposed will have on them. Will I ever be able to explain that what I have done, wasn’t out of hate or malice, but rather driven because of my need to have a very sizable - and let’s not forget expensive - shoe collection?

David and I are a modest, middle-class family. How was I supposed to get all these expensive shoes on a combined household income of just over sixty-five grand a year? I had to come up with another way.

And there was only one way. Society may not like my method, may not even accept it, but they weren’t a collector of shoes, and I was a completionist that had to have every pair I fell in love with. Society would never understand my obsession, just like the people who once wore those shoes didn't understand either.

I saw one of the uniformed officers nodding to Detective Mathis. He stepped forward and the officers showed him a pair of black Louis Vuitton pumps. The prior owner’s feet were still inside. Then, I felt the cold cuffs snapping around my wrists. 

“Mrs. Tanner, you’re under arrest for murder.” Mathis said this with no emotion in his voice.

I looked at David, but he couldn’t bear to return my gaze. The muscles in his face were twitching uncontrollably with conflicted emotion as he tried to make sense of what I had done. I want to tell him how sorry I am, how if I could take my actions back, I would.

But deep inside, I know the truth. I would do it all over again. I would do what needed to be done to acquire their shoes and add them to my ever-growing collection. But this time I would do it differently, I supposed. I wouldn’t keep my collection in a public storage unit. And I definitely wouldn’t have left the women’s severed feet inside, like a shoe tree, so the shoes didn’t lose their shape and beauty. The smell was horrendous, and I’m sure it’s what attracted attention to my storage unit and led the police to my house this morning with a warrant.

“The shoes were so pretty, all of them unique in their own special way,” I said. “I just had to have them.” I looked to David. “Please, David, you have to understand?”

I went to touch his arm, but he yanked it away from me like I’m a serial killer or something. His eyes met mine and in them I could tell David couldn't grasp why I did what I did. He was as shocked and as horrified as everyone else, maybe even more. He had trusted and loved me. I betrayed that trust.

But someone had to get it. Someone must have had their own special collection that they lived and breathed for, a collection they didn’t want anything to happen to, because if it did, well…then they would feel as if a piece of their soul had just been ripped from their bodies and stepped on. Just like mine had.

Detective Mathis was standing next to me and when I turned to him, his eyes were alive with purpose, determined to see me locked away for the rest of my natural life. But maybe, just maybe, I could make him understand.

“Detective Mathis, you must have something you collect. Something you don’t want to lose, right?” He didn't say a word, just continued to stare at me like I was a madwoman. “I’m sure you do. And, if you do, then you understand why I have all these shoes in here. Please tell me you understand, Detective.”

 “You cut other women's feet off because you want their shoes so you can add them to your morbid collection, Mrs. Tanner.” Mathis said. “I understand what you did perfectly.”