LatinosUSA

2003

“Shoe,” said Amelia in a disappointed voice, “what happened at work today?” After being fired, Shoe first visited a tavern, where, fortified by five schooners of beer, he went to his girlfriend’s house.

“You heard?” he asked unnecessarily.

“Jerry told me he had to let you go,” replied Amelia with dismay.

“Jerry?”

“Mr. Stevenson,” explained Amelia.

Ha! thought Shoe. Stevenson had always had the hots for Amelia, and Shoe conjectured that that was the real reason behind his dismissal. Shoe wished he had another beer.

“What else did Jerry say?” inquired Shoe drunkenly.

Amelia frowned at her boozy boyfriend. “He said you’d become obsessed with time travel and astral projection and the time paradoxes,” she said. “He said it was affecting your work for the company…”

“Oh, the effing company,” he said with derision. “Stevenson can shove the company up his…” He caught himself before he cursed again. Amelia didn’t deserve that, he thought. “Look on the bright side,” he went on, “now we can hang out more.” He grinned stupidly.

Amelia didn’t smile. “Shoe,” she said, “I think we need a break.” There, she’d said it. She’d been meaning to for weeks. After a year of dating, it seemed like a little Shoe went a long way. She loved him down deep, but he had a lot of baggage.

“But, what about our date tonight?” asked Shoe pathetically.

“Jerry is taking me to dinner at his club,” Amelia said importantly, making the break official.

The two stared at one another for a moment before Amelia turned on her heel and left Shoe standing alone in her living room. After a minute, he quietly let himself out.

Shoe didn’t see Amelia for some weeks. It was time for the next coven gathering at Vonnie’s in the mysterious forest. Amelia decided not to attend, lest she meet her former boyfriend, but for Shoe, there was never any question that he would make the ritual. The coven was the one constant in his life. Like he always did, he got there early, only this time without Amelia on his arm. When Vonnie greeted him, she said nothing about Amelia’s absence. Shoe concluded that the women had talked.

“Hi there, Shoe,” Vonnie said in greeting. She looked older, grayer now, he thought.

“Vonnie,” he said. The two warmly embraced. By this time, Shoe had been attending the rituals for almost a year. In fact, Halloween was once again on the horizon.

“Shoe,” said Vonnie a little shakily, “we’re not going to travel this time. I hope that’s alright.”

“Whatever you say,” said Shoe. “This is your home, and you’re the arch-mage, Vonnie,” said Shoe.

The purification was conducted, the altar finished, and the circle cast with just the two of them. Vonnie explained that the others had all had pressing matters to attend to.

“Even Amelia?” he asked dully.

Vonnie sighed but didn’t say anything.

They decided to forgo the usual rituals and instead did a Tarot reading. They also meditated and prayed. When Vonnie turned up the Death card, Shoe drew a sharp breath, but she put him at his ease.

“It doesn’t indicate physical death, Shoe,” she said, “but rather a change. Both a beginning and an ending.”

“Whew, that’s a relief,” he said.

“But in this case,” she said wryly, “It may be a literal portent.”

“What do you mean?” asked Shoe.

“I have been diagnosed with pancreatic cancer,” she disclosed. “I may have only a few months to live.”

“Vonnie, no!” he said in a stricken voice.

“It’s alright, Shoe,” she told him. “I’ve lived a long life. In fact, when I met you, I didn’t exactly tell you the truth.” At his questioning look, she continued, “I’m not 86 years old, but 96. I didn’t think you’d believe me if I told you.”

“Are you in any discomfort?” he asked with concern. Shoe, who’d never known his own grandparents, had adopted Vonnie as a stand-in of sorts.

“A little,” she admitted, and Shoe could see the pain in her eyes. “This will be our last meeting, Shoe,” she said. To his unspoken question, she replied, “I’m going into hospice next week. Better to manage the pain there,” she explained.

Vonnie then stunned him with a final request. “Would you officiate at my funeral, Shoe?” she asked.

“But, shouldn’t a High Priestess conduct the service?” he asked.

“Anyone versed in The Ways may preside,” said Vonnie. “And I will instruct you. Plus, give you this guidance. Here.” She offered up an ancient, leather-bound tome of ritual incantations that Shoe had seen her brandish before. “Take this, Shoe,” she said. “It contains the lore of yore,” she quipped with a smile. “It is among my most valued earthly possessions.”

“Where will you be…”

“I shall be interred in a Wiccan burial ground, perhaps an hour’s drive from here. It is privately owned and not accountable to state laws.” She explained that embalming fluids and other superficial preparations were not allowed at the passing of a Wiccan. They discussed the end at length until the light outside the windows began to fade, and Shoe decided it was time to take his leave.

“May I visit you in hospice?” he asked.

“No,” she said, surprising him. “I’d rather you remember me as you see me today, Shoe. You understand, don’t you?”

There remained no more to say, so with a last embrace, the two friends parted for the final time.

_______

Shoe was on a darkened street, running. His footsteps slapped loudly off the pavement. He dared cast a look behind him and saw a large man on a tall steed, quickly closing the distance between them. Shoe began to pant stertorously, his lungs burning with fatigue. As he fled, he ran under a streetlamp, the only source of light. Looking backwards again, he recognized his pursuer. It was Stevenson, and he was bearing down fast. In a moment, Shoe would be trampled. Suddenly, his limbs failed him, and Shoe collapsed onto the pavement. The horse crushed him beneath its hooves.

At long last, Shoe regained consciousness. His body ached everywhere, and he didn’t fall asleep for hours.

_______

Vonnie’s time came only two months later, just before Christmas. Shoe was beside himself with grief for a woman he had come not only to admire and respect, but to love as well. Vonnie’s death brought into sharp focus the lessons she’d taught him about the passing.

“Most religions follow the creed of orthodoxy,” she explained. “You are supposed to believe the right things. Wiccans tend to believe in orthoproxy. It is important to do the right thing, then the right beliefs will follow.”

Vonnie chose to take a hands-on approach to her end. In her last week at home, she constructed her own coffin, wrote her eulogy, and invited only certain mourners. “If word gets out that a Wiccan has croaked, Shoe,” she told him, “it could become a media circus. People will show up expecting a 100-foot funeral pyre or something.” Vonnie opted for conventional interment.

At the service, friends spoke, told stories, many of them humorous, all of them affecting, and songs and chants were given voice. Vonnie’s favorite tune, Van Morrison’s Into the Mystic, was sung. To celebrate the crossing-over, literally hundreds of candles were lit and glowed eerily in the approaching gloom of sunset. A final circle was cast, in which the mourners sat and sang and chanted and meditated and prayed.

Shoe didn’t see Amelia at the funeral, and upon asking, was told by one of their mutual acquaintances that her husband forbade her to indulge in what he scorned as the Dark Arts. Shoe was stunned. He didn’t even know that she was engaged. He learned that Amelia was now Mrs. Gerald Stevenson, and was expecting her first child. It was a somber conclusion to a somber day.

_______

The passing of Vonnie was not the end of Shoe’s Wiccan involvement. He soon became attached to another small coven comprised of four middle-aged women. The services were conducted outdoors in a glade in the woods during temperate weather and in one of the women’s homes during periods of inclemency. Shoe was a serious student, but the experience lacked the magic that had been imbued by Vonnie–and Amelia. Shoe found his thoughts wandering to Amelia more and more. He still loved her deeply, and her loss was an open wound.

Twice, he saw her. The first time was a year after Vonnie’s funeral. She was coming out of a convenience store early one morning, apparently en route to work. She paused and exchanged a few impersonal words and then excused herself. She was pregnant again. The second time was at an upscale restaurant where Shoe now worked as a maître de. When he saw her, accompanied by his old boss and with their two children in tow, her eyes danced with panic. But Shoe put her at her ease and seated the family at a table. He felt relief. His angst over losing the woman of his dreams was drawing to a close. He smiled complacently and did his job.

Part 1: https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com/2026/02/01/shoe-part-1-by-bill-tope/

Part 2: https://latinosenglishedition.wordpress.com/2026/02/02/shoe-part-2-by-bill-tope/