The Unwanted Reconciliation

The cool autumn air didn't do much to cool the humiliation that was burning in Leilani's chest. She had just had a great, if short, fifteen-minute conversation with Ben, the guy she liked, outside the campus library. He had told her how nice her new red shoes were, and for a moment, the world seemed bright and full of possibilities. That feeling went away as soon as she turned onto her tree-lined street and saw Aryan leaning against the old oak tree across from her house with his hands deep in his pockets.

She let out a sigh that was full of tiredness. Three weeks had passed since she broke up with him after walking into his apartment and seeing him with Maya, her old friend. The picture was burned into her mind, like a never-ending, sickening loop.

"Please, Lei. Aryan pushed off the tree and walked over to her, pleading, "Just five minutes." A slouch of desperation took the place of his usual confident swagger.

"Aryan, we have nothing to discuss. It's finished. Don't you think the "why" is fairly obvious? With her keys in hand, a makeshift weapon, and a way out, Leilani continued to move.

"It was an error! A dumb, one-time thing. Maya had no significance. Now that he was following her, a neighbor watering their petunias heard him raise his voice.

Her wild curls whipped her face as she spun around, saying, "That makes it worse!" "You wasted two years on "nothing"? You made fun of me for "nothing." Usually so tender, her warm brown eyes flashed with a fire he hardly ever saw. "I'm out of patience. We're finished.

He was crying, and she could see it, but it only made her angrier. They sensed a performance, a manipulation. She looked at the mailbox with its metal door open a crack. She yanked it open in a fit of rage, took out the day's mail, and sighed, holding the little pile of envelopes like a gavel.

"Let's part ways amicably and never see each other again, Aryan. Here, right now!

She turned on the heel of her red shoe and marched up her driveway before he could respond. She unlocked the door and slipped inside without turning around. Her heart pounded against her ribs as she leaned against the closed door. She repressed the physical pressure behind her eyes that made her want to cry. She had shed enough tears for him. A peculiar feeling of closure descended upon her. The chapter was over.

She sifted through the mail and slid to the floor. A catalog, a postcard, and bills. Then a plain brown box without a label. No shipping label, no postage meter, and no return address. It seemed as though it had been dropped right into her mailbox. She felt a twinge of unease, but curiosity soon overcame it. She opened the flaps and cut the tape with her keys.

A pair of shoes was tucked away inside in a bed of white tissue paper. Not just any shoes, but the precise pair of sleek-heeled, blood-red pumps she had been lusting after on the internet for the past two weeks. Her breath caught. They were beautiful. She peered back into the box, looking for anything—a receipt, a note, anything. Nothing was present.

Ben was the object of her first hopeful thought, but she had never spoken of them to him, so it was impossible. Then, still roiling from the encounter, her thoughts turned to Aryan. He had to be the one. A great gesture of apology. a sacrifice for peace. There was nothing else that made sense. Who else would be aware of her secret wish list, style, or size? It was too unsettling to consider the possibility that they were from a stranger. She took one shoe out of the box and shook the idea away. It was flawless. It fit like it had been made especially for her as she slipped it onto her foot.

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