Dad's Shoes

Can shoes sound shiny?

I ask this to Miss Singh in the middle of my English lesson. It’s the start of year 4 and we’re writing about our morning routines today. Miss Singh is the best; she sits with me during all my English lessons because I sometimes jumble the words around when I read and write. They say that’s why I am noisy in class, although I don’t really believe it. The results do not lie though, Miss Jahns doesn’t shout at me as much and I’m learning a lot more with Miss Singh’s help. She looks at me a little bit confused at my question and then shakes her head.

  ‘No Grace.’ She says. ‘Shoes cannot sound shiny, but they can look shiny.’ I disagree, but I do not want to be rude. Miss Singh is the only adult that has never been cross with me, and I want to keep it that way.

  ‘I don’t know how else to describe Dad’s shoes.’ I say. I already know his shoes look shiny, but there is no way to tell her about the sound without her being there. ‘I know, do you want to come to my house in the morning? Then you can understand what I mean.’

  Miss Singh shakes her had and laughs, but I wasn’t joking. ‘How about you write down what your morning routine is and describe the sound however you feel comfortable.’

Firstly, Mum wakes me up and tells me to get dressed. Then I wash my face in the bathroom and put on the uniform. Now that I’m in year four, I have to make sure my uniform is on correctly. If not, I will be in trouble. I do the final checks on my uniform, tights on, cardigan, and dress is flowing, I am ready to go. I run downstairs when I hear the toaster go off. I know by the time I get to the kitchen; Mum will be spreading the strawberry jam on top of my toast with a glass of milk on the table. Mum let’s me watch YouTube while I eat breakfast now, because it keeps me quiet. I look at Mum as she unpacks the dishwasher from the night before; she is very pretty. I want to look just like her when I grow up. Dad always used to tell me how pretty Mum was, but he stopped doing that now because I already know. I put my crumby toast plate milky glass in the empty dishwasher and Mum goes to comb my hair. I want to be pretty like Mum, but combing my hair is so annoying. It always gets knotty anyway and it hurts to comb, but Mum insists that she has to do it every day. I try to keep still on the chair while Mum stands over my and does my hair, then I’d hear his shoes upstairs.

  The click like tap dancer’s shoes and they shine with each step he takes. This is when Dad gets ready for work. He sings a song I don’t know at the top of the stairs as he irons his suit. He says it’s from a show called Little Shop of Horrors, but I tell him that the song sound’s too nice to be from a so called “Horror”. I fidget under Mum as she finishes up with my hair and I scramble to the bottom of the stairs when she’s done. Dad always waits for me.

  He stands at the top of the stairs like a giant. Dad is not pretty like my Mum, or handsome like the Disney princes. He does look like one of the dads in Disney, like Zeus in Hercules, or Triton in The Little Mermaid, strong. He looks at me with a big smile, still signing his song from the horror and dances down the stairs to his own voice. His shirt is the whitest a shirt could be, and his suit is as blue as the sea at night time, because it’s dark. He has a big round belly, a big fluffy beard, and the biggest smile ever. He gives me a massive kiss when he gets to the bottom and goes out the door to work. He used to kiss my mum, but I told him it was gross, so he stopped.  

Miss Singh was helping me a lot with my English over the last few months; I did so well in my test that I got extra playtime. I have another test today and Miss Singh wants to see if I can do it on my own. All I have to do is discuss what I do with my evenings. Mrs Jahns puts the lined A4 paper in front of me, and I write my name, date, and title on the top. Miss Singh sneaks over.

  ‘Don’t forget to underline Grace.’ She whispers and I nod before Mrs Jahns starts the test. I stare at the paper and I’m very unsure of what to write about. I don’t know whether I should write about my old routine, playing with Dad, doing homework with Mum, and watching cartoons with the two of them. I don’t really have a routine now, Dad is always working late, Mum is always cross and just gives me the iPad. It was fun at first, but… but I’m not sure if I can miss my parents, because they are still here. I just do not see them as much. Miss Singh rushes over and takes me out of the class by the hand. I hope she isn’t cross with me.

  My bottom lip is poking out like Pinocchio’s nose she is staring at it. I didn’t notice it until I noticed her noticing it. She crouches and looks at my face as I draw back my lip. Why is she looking at me like I scraped my knee or something? She reaches out and wipes my face. Her thumb wipes it dry, but the dry spot only drew attention to the rest of my cheek being wet. I was crying and I didn’t know why. She gave me a hug and took me to a computer room. I did not have to do the test. 

  Miss Singh said that she had to talk to Mum at the end of school although with some tactically constructed convincing, she wouldn’t mention my crying earlier. I have her oath of secrecy. I see Mum walk through the gates across the playground. She smiles and waves, but I can tell she looks cross, because she’s always cross. I can’t remember the last time I saw her pretty smile, now her smile seems to look hard. It’s not hard like wood or metal; it’s like that mug I dropped last Christmas filled with hot chocolate. That mug had cracks in it, and so does Mum’s smile. Mum hugs me and I hand over my book back and run around while Mum and Miss Singh talk. I wonder what they’re talking about.

  Mum tells me what Miss Singh told her over dinner and I am shocked. I’m not going to be in school on Monday. In fact, the next time I’m in school I may be in year five. It doesn’t mean I’m on summer holidays, which was what I hoped. I have to work on the computer and do school at home. There are concerns to be raised, but I’ll save them until a later date. Right now, I have to wrestle with the reasons behind what Mum is saying. England is on Lockdown, and the world is sick with Kronavirus.  

  Mum’s reading about Kronavirus on her phone during dinner after telling me about school. When I finish, she takes my plate and plants the iPad in front of me, as usual. At this point I want to say something, like I’m bored with the iPad, but I’m scared I’ll never get to use it again and let’s not get too crazy here. She doesn’t seem as cross today but as she sits on the sofa with her eyes glued to the phone, she looks a bit scared. I search Kronavirus, and now I understand.

  I can’t remember the last time I had a nightmare, but I know what to do if I do. As I lay in bed in the middle of the night, I think about what I’m supposed to do: get into bed with Mum and Dad.  Before I went to bed, I read that Kronavirus was a disease that turned people into bats that suck human blood and if you have your blood sucked you became one of them. Lockdown was because these things were out on the streets and could get you at any time. In my nightmare I was running away from one of those monsters and Dad couldn’t help because he was at work and Mum couldn’t because she was cross with me. It wasn’t until I woke up that I realised that I had fallen asleep with the window open! I look to the dark corner of my bedroom and see something. I want to scream, but I don’t want it to come after me. My eyes are fixed on it; it stands like a statue made of shadows. I know it’s waiting for me to go to sleep so it can drink my blood. I also know that if Dad was in here with me, he could beat that thing up no problem, but I’m stuck here, and I feel like it’s watching me. Suddenly it hits me. I remember from a science lesson that bats are blind, and they see by hearing. So, if I move silently, I will be able to escape without trouble.

  I slowly remove the covers and hold my breath. I pick up my Rise of Skywalker yellow lightsabre, just in case and make my move. It’s so hard to navigate my bedroom with all my toys around. It’s so dark and I can’t see any of them on the floor, but I know if I step on one of them and make a noise the Krona-Bat-Person is going to snatch me up. I manage to get to the door without a sound, although the side of my foot scraped a few little things I was okay mostly. I breathe a sigh of relief as I grab the door handle, then clap my hand across my mouth to shut myself up. I tremble as I look over to the dark corner, raising my lightsabre. I take two silent breaths and ready my weapon, but the figure doesn’t move. Then, snap! The Krona-Bat-Person cranes its neck to me. I drop my lightsabre and run for my life.

  I sprint into Mum and Dad’s room and get into their bed before Mum can even sit up. I’m screaming and crying as I tell her about the Krona-Bat-Person. Mum cuddle’s me and promises to protect me. I feel better now.

  ‘Where’s Dad?’ I ask her. Her face makes me realise something.

  Mum hasn’t been cross all this time. She’s been sad.

  I thought I was done with all this crazy Kronavirus lingo, but Mum told me that I will not be seeing Dad for 2 weeks because he was in “Isolation”. I thought Dad was in trouble because I knew a boy who was in Isolation in school and he beat up a kid, but Mum told me Dad didn’t beat up a kid. He was in Isolation because he was doing something naughty with his friend, and now that friend may have Kronavirus.

  Dad’s locked away in a room, and he’s supposed to be in there on his own. Mum tells me nobody is allowed in there because we may get sick, but she always goes in there. I know I’m not supposed to eavesdrop, but I hear them argue nearly every day. Even if I did eavesdrop, which I didn’t! I only have more questions, like: Who’s Elizabeth?

  Dad has been out of Isolation for about a week, but him and Mum don’t seem to be talking. Something is wrong, and I know that I have be to be a big girl when something is wrong. So, I sleep in my own bed. I survive a few nights on my own, until I forget to close the window again. It’s the middle of the night again and the Krona-Bat-Person is back. I sneak out without trouble because I’ve been doing evacuation drills all week. I don’t make a sound. I sneak across the landing and stop when I see the creeping light of the television on the stairway wall. I listen to hear what’s on and after a few words I can hear the song that Dad sings, but it’s not him singing it. I use my mastered skill of moving silently to get to the living room unnoticed. Dad is watching a film on the telly and a pretty woman is singing about a man called Seymour.

  It had been a long time since I saw my dad smile and I have never seen him cry. Now I’m seeing him both. I know I’m supposed to be in bed, but something is telling me to run in and give my dad a big hug. I wonder if this is how he feels when he sees me crying. I’m running in and I don’t care if I get in trouble. I hop on his lap and give him the biggest hug I can. He hugs me back because I’m crying too.

  ‘I’m so sorry Grace’ he says. I don’t know why he said sorry. Usually the person who’s crying doesn’t need to say sorry.

  I wake up the next morning to more arguing, at least I think its arguing. I rub my eyes and blink and see Mum and Dad in the kitchen. Mum is shouting at Dad and Dad has his head down. He looks like me when I get in trouble. I’m not listening, I don’t want to listen. It makes me sad to hear my Dad get in trouble, but I hear the name Elizabeth again.

  ‘Who’s Elizabeth?’ I ask. I have to know. Mum looks at me really angrily, then really sad. Dad’s cheeks go redder than a tomato, but he doesn’t look at me. I didn’t mean to make them angry or sad, I just wanted to know. Mum goes upstairs, and Dad goes upstairs too.

  I guess I’m making my own breakfast.

  Me and Dad watch Little Shop of Horrors from the beginning. I thought it was going to be scary, but it is really funny, and the songs are good. We’ve built a fort on the living room floor. Well… Dad built it because we’re staying downstairs again. He snuggle under the bed sheet roof and he looks happy. I don’t want him to be unhappy, and I know what I have to ask him will make him unhappy.

  ‘Dad, why can’t you sleep upstairs?’ I ask. Dad doesn’t look unhappy or cross. He bites his lips and his eyes wonder, but I think he understands.

   ‘I did something really naughty and hurt your mum’s feelings very badly. You know when you do something bad you get sent to your room; I get sent to the sofa.’

  ‘Is it about Elizabeth?’ I ask and Dad nods. Now he looks unhappy, and he looks everywhere where I’m not.

  ‘I took your mother to see Little Shop of Horrors on the west end when he first met. All I wanted to do is to be like Seymore to her. But, I treated her like that mean old dentist because I didn’t appreciate her.’ I wipe the tear away from his cheek before he can. My dad isn’t anything like that dentist! I know Dad loves Mum; I just hope Mum knows that too.

  It’s officially the Summer Holidays! No more boring home school!

  Dad has to go into the office this morning. The Lockdown isn’t as strict anymore, and neither are my parents anymore; things are better. Mum gets me out of bed early and I’m too tired to argue, also she’s made pancakes. Me and Mum eat together, she had steaming coffee and I have orange juice. I never understood coffee; it smells nice but tastes horrible. I can’t tell Mum that because Dad wasn’t allowed to give me any, and he’s in enough trouble. Once breakfast is finished, I don’t get the iPad or laptop, Mum combs my hair. It’s confusing but I sort of like it.

  I hear him upstairs. He’s singing the song that I know now while he irons his suit. Mum stops combing my hair expecting me to wriggle, but I don’t. I’m mesmerised; I haven't heard him sing it for a long time.

  ‘Go to your dad Grace.’ Mum says. I always run to the stairs when Mum finishes combing my hair, but Mum has never encouraged me to, but I go anyway.

  He’s waiting for me at the top of the stairs again. He smiles at me as he dances down that stairs to his own voice. As he does, I wonder what shiny sounds like; I can’t hear it. He stops and his smile gets bigger when Mum’s hand rests on my shoulder. He skips to the bottom of the stairs and gives me a big kiss like every day before school. Dad then kisses Mum for a very, VERY, long time. GROSS.

  Mum and me watch Dad walk to his car and I can hear his shoes again.

That’s what shiny sounds like.