Black Stilettos

A Sign of the Times

She straddles the hedge with her five inch stilettos and knocks on the window to gain his attention. Their eyes meet and he smiles, admiring her beauty through the pane. He notes her long legs, her classy maroon dress, her waving blond hair, but mostly he can’t take his eyes off the black cap and tassel on her head. She returns his smile, waving furiously as she steps back over the hedge and her heels sink into the grass. Pointing to her cell phone, she pushes speed dial.

“You look beautiful like that,” he says as he answers. “Wish I could’ve been there with you, but I’m grounded in my room.”

“Me too.” The melancholy escapes through her eyes but she hopes all he can see through the distortion of the window is her broad plastic smile.

“I’m proud of you.”

“I know.”

Her mind plays tug-of-war — wanting to want to stay with him, but not wanting the sadness to overtake her joy.

An awkward silence resonates from the phone until he mumbles, “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

“Gotta go.” She cuts the conversations short so he won’t see her tears watering the grass.

Blowing him kisses, she backs away from the glass until his face is replaced with her own reflection.

Then she turns and runs into the Nursing Home parking lot — happy she could share a slice of her graduation day with her grandpa.