In The Name Of My Father Chapter 6

Shoe Shopping And A Coffee Surprise:

As it happened, Anna didn’t turn up. She was called into the salon as the other junior had broken her leg and they needed her to cover.

‘So sorry…have to work….BUGGA…explain later…going to have varicose veins before this week is finished…eek!!! SPEND BIG FOR ME!!!’ she’d texted.

And so, given that she was already standing by the door, but mostly because she had psyched herself up for buying shoes, ITALIAN SHOES, Helen entered the shop.

She remembered her mom’s youngest sister who used to ask with a theatrical sigh, ‘Will it be men or shoes?’ and then she’d answer. ‘Maybe shoes…they last so much longer!’ That certainly applied to Italian ones.

With the right shoes you could conquer the world.

Some hours later, totally exhausted by the arrays of temptation and the countless trying on, and with a number of shoe bags happily swinging on her arms, she decided that a coffee in her favorite coffee shop was in order.

The truth was it was everybody’s favorite coffee shop, IF you knew anything about real coffee! Word gets around in small places, about good coffee, bad coffee, best places to eat, and consequently, it was not unusual to bump into the regular customers, your friends, neighbors, and very occasionally, some other interesting people! This was a busy little business, the very hub of the town, one that set the benchmark for standards.

Fortunately it was Monday, a comparatively quiet day, which Helen was thankful for. Too intent on finding places for her parcels, she didn’t notice his approach.

“Well now,” he said, “how many pairs of shoes can a girl actually wear?”

“Oh hi Father,” she said, brushing some unruly curls away from her forehead. “Quite a lot, actually! It’s my deepest secret…for your ears alone,” she whispered whilst theatrically looking around the sparsely-populated room. “Shoes are my secret vice, better than make-up, hair-dos, or clothes, or boyfriends even! Is there any woman who doesn’t LOVE them?”

“I’m thinking my answer should be ‘no’,” he smiled.

“Usually I’m a bit more abstemious than you might imagine looking at this lot today. “But do you believe that I haven’t bought a new pair of shoes for ONE WHOLE YEAR?”

“One year? Do I believe it? I suppose the answer has to be ‘yes’, because I have no reason to believe that you would lie to me. But was that part of a grand plan?”

“More accidental than planned, I have to say. You see when I started a major cleanup before moving here, at the behest of my mother who thought it was a fair exchange for her having put up with what she described as my wall-to-wall clothes over the years, I discovered more about myself in a week than in my whole life.

“I was a bit shocked, not so much about what I had, though that was bad enough, but more about my spending habits. There was so much stuff, clothes, shoes, handbags, make-up, and truckloads of absolute garbage that I’d never used, much still with labels attached, all taking up space in my bedroom. I had no idea! Maybe that’s why wardrobes were invented.”

“In some cases, yes, you’d be right.”

“And at the risk of boring you to snores, just out of interest, my mother did an average price on each, and when she totted up the dollar figure I was shocked to say the least. I could have paid off a sizable amount of my university fees if I’d practiced some restraint. So, the challenge was on. I was so determined to curb my spending.”

“Well, I am impressed!”

“The thing is we simply can’t just fob off the reality of our bad spending habits, then give things away to salve our conscience. Everything we buy eventually has to go to somewhere, to landfill. Don’t get me started on environmental issues. You’ll not get out of here before your thirtieth birthday!”

“That intense, is it? But seriously, from my experience, personal challenges always work best. We don’t think about the few dollars here and there, but they all add up and sometimes the only way to get our heads around reality, is to do what your mother suggested.”

“But it’s not all our fault. Sucking people in is an art form that the advertising moguls know exactly how to do. Even at checkout counters…would you like some chocolate today…it’s on special…three for the price of two…or chips…half-price, and too often we find ourselves caving in and buying. I hate it.”

“I agree. It’s absolutely sneaky.”

“Actually, a friend of mine was given a present of a facial for her birthday. She went into the salon all excited and eager for a bit of pampering that would cost her nothing. BUT…and she should have known. The beautician had her spiel all ready. Does your skin tend to be dry, flaky, or oily? Do you have any imperfections you’re worried about…red marks, some bumps, maybe a little bit of acne…and before she knew where she was, that one facial ‘gift’ had become $600 worth of must-have products, not counting the other million dollars’ worth she managed to resist.”

“Oh dear…that’s outrageous! I have to admit, there are times, many times, when it’s great to be male!”

“You don’t know the half of it! She was so mad with herself when she got home, but by then it was too late. The deed was done…all on her credit card, so every time she’s had to make a payment she’s reminded of how dearly her weakness cost her.”

“Weak maybe, but theirs is a pretty underhand tactical plan. It’s business at its nastiest.”

“I was going to say that it’s bordering on immoral, but it IS immoral, especially on young people who are less wary and have limited resources. It’s the same at the hairdresser’s. We women are sucked in like lambs to the slaughter. We go in one month and everything seems hunky-dory. We get an affordable cut, but the next time, surprise, surprise, the game has changed. Suddenly we have split ends that we knew nothing about. A particular shampoo will fix that. And then there’s the conditioner and the color and toner, and the solution for your fine, flyaway hair, or, as in my case, your unruly curls. A trim and shampoo blows out to be a whole makeover. We have plans for a haircut, and somehow we exit having bought the salon. I keep saying I am not going back, but vanity keeps getting in the way. If only I could look in the mirror and focus more on my character, rather than my imperfections.”

“Now that would be one special mirror, with the potential to put beauty salons and the likes, out of business overnight,” Alistair laughed, again mentally noting the relative ease of being a man. Six trims a year were as much as he could bear, five if he could get away with it! Besides, where did women find the money for all this nonsense?

“But at least you learned from your mistakes and decided to give spending the flick. Am I right?”

“You are. And that, believe it or not, includes hair salons, which is why my hair is styled in the latest pony-tail.”

“Well, it looks great to me!”

She looked at him, head cocked to one side, eyebrows raised, and replied just a little scathingly,

“You’re a male, that’s why you don’t understand!”

“What do you mean?”

“I used to fight with my hair every single day. I have BIG hair. Have you any idea what that means?”

“I do and I don’t! If my hair was the length of yours, I guess it would be big too.”

“Then keep it short. Mine is totally unruly…even with all the products I spoke of, so, that’s the reason the ponytail has become my new fashion statement.”

“It still looks trendy to me, whatever trendy happens to be. I’m told even that can change in the blink of an eye.”

Helen chose to ignore his encouragement and continued:

“It was sheer agony at first. I was so jealous of everybody at Uni. You know, you never actually take that much notice of what people are wearing, or how they style their hair, or whether they’ve made themselves up, or what shoes they’re wearing, until you imagine they’re all looking at YOU because you are always dressed in the same gear, and your hair’s as fashionable as an anxious kindergarten kid scratching a pencil through unruly curls.

“But after a while I began to see spending from another perspective. I stopped viewing commercial television and I removed almost all temptation. I also became the ultimate problem solver, making my limited wardrobe stretch from here to Miami, especially when I learned to mix and match.

“And you know, one day”, she went on hurriedly, “I realized that my obsession had morphed into a game, one that I’d begun to enjoy. In time I wasn’t even tempted to spend. Can you imagine that? But, and this is the BEST part, I then went from a state of having ‘too much month at the end of my money’, in which case I had to borrow from Mum or Dad in order to live, to actually having savings!”

“Clever girl…there’s a book in that! So now we have a minimalist in our midst?”

“I’m getting there, though I don’t advertise it too much. Most of my friends just don’t get it. They don’t want to understand. They’re not quite prepared to curb their spending habits, yet. Looking good is what it’s all about.”

“Well, I AM impressed. I’m thinking that my uncle Seamus might well have been a minimalist, though he’d probably never heard of the term. He used to say that money looks better in your bank account than in your wardrobe.”

“Sounds like a man ahead of his time. I wouldn’t credit me with being a minimalist yet though. As you can see,” she said, indicating her shopping bags, “I’m a work in progress. I still have much to learn.

“But,” she added quickly, “I’ve changed a lot, and I’d never go back to indiscriminate spending. I really worry about all the needless production and selling that goes on, often to the detriment of people in third-world countries. Everybody’s drowning in stuff. The environment groans under the collective weight of the products of the sweat factories, and as you would know, the whole cycle is unsustainable.

“And the thing is this,” she said, “while we here in the developed world indulge ourselves, the impoverished sector of humanity, works under horrendously dangerous conditions, because otherwise they’d be scratching for their next meal. All of them suffer from a crime that is not of their making. How can that possibly be moral? And once we realize that, how can we live with our consciences?”

“Well Helen, I can see why you study psychology. We don’t normally see such empathy in the younger generation.”

“I don’t believe I deserve the compliment to be honest, given that reaching this stage in my thinking was more accidental than by design, but I’m sure glad it happened. I have come to the conclusion that happiness has very little to do with belongings. My friends would never agree with me, but in time I hope they will come to realize that it’s true.

“And these shoes…I know what you’re thinking, given all that I’ve said. It looks like they fly in the face of my current stance on spending and sustainability, BUT, they will last a while because they are great quality, they are Italian made, classic in design, and besides, I got six pairs for just under the price of two. I hope to wear them for at least ten years.”

“So what’s so great about shoes?” he asked, a smile hovering around his mouth.

She stopped and looked squarely at him, shock reaching the far corners of her face, almost as if he was some alien who’d just ducked down from outer space for a wee bit of a chat.

“Huh? What’s so great about shoes? How many years have you got?” she cried, slowly shaking her head in incredulity. “I can’t believe you are asking a woman such a question. Wasn’t it Forrest Gump’s mom who said you can tell a lot about a woman by the shoes she wears? Shoes are EVERYTHING! You can have the best of clothes, and jewellery, the trendiest of haircuts, your nails polished to perfection, and a designer handbag, but if your shoes are bad, your score out of ten wouldn’t even register.

“Besides,” she added righteously, “I did do a lot of tutoring over the last four terms, and I suffered the agony of trying to make silk purses out of sows’ ears. Oh my God the very thought of it now brings tears to my eyes. I’m pretty certain I reached as far as Dante’s ninth circle of hell on more than one occasion. You see this lump on the side of my head?”

He didn’t!

“I used to bang my head against the wall when they left! No kidding! SO, the bottom line is this. Whether you believe it or not, I DESERVE these shoes more than you could ever imagine. That agony I endured I cannot describe, mostly because there isn’t an actual word for such human torture.”

“That’s hilarious Helen…I’m thinking that you must have been teaching music.”

“Now how did you ever guess?”

“Too easy! That’s a discipline where you either have talent or you just don’t. Did you think of suggesting another instrument…or maybe play a sport…like rugby?”

Their spontaneous laughter echoed around the otherwise quiet cafe. Suddenly the center of attention, they continued chatting more quietly.

“There were so many times when I could have used some courage to do that! Yep! I was teaching the violin. I guess I won’t be buying any shoes next break. I have severed ties with all but one student. Such is the barren desert of musicality!” she added with a dramatic sigh.

“Sounds like an escape from hell to me.”

“Unfortunately the statistics for musical talent are depressingly low. I have no idea why this is so, but yet it seems that every parent wants their child to play an instrument. Why?”

“I’m told it’s a science.”

“Correct! BUT, it’s also very much an art form. The first weeks of tutoring are nothing short of an insight into Hades…or what I imagine hell might look and feel like!”

“I can only try to imagine. And as for the shoes and spending, there’s no to need to explain Helen. I was only teasing. I have three sisters myself and all of them are shoe-aholics! I’m pretty sure they spend more on shoes than on food, just going on how skinny they are. I also have a suspicion that their husbands have had to build extensions solely for their wives’ shopping habits! They’re pretty vain women. As for the shoes, their tenet is that, if God gave you trim ankles and long feet, he’s telling you to support the shoe industry.”

“And do they?”

“Do they what?”

“Have trim ankles?”

“Yes! They certainly do. Trim everything actually. The vanity part is a gift they have bequeathed on themselves.”

“I think I’d like them…and what about you? Do you have lots of shoes to show off…” but she stopped in her tracks, blushing ever so slightly…priests and trim ankles…probably best not to go there! But fortunately he seemed unaware of her potential gaffe.

“Me? I have two pairs, plus one pair of sandals and one pair of joggers. That’s it!”

“That’s it…TWO pairs of shoes? You have to be joking. Did you work yourself up to this extreme state of poverty, or did it come naturally?”

“I’ll have to remember that line. Actually I only have the second pair because my sister Sara bought me them just before I took my vows. Her exact words were, forgive the language, ‘Poverty my arse! You need more than one pair of shoes whether God approves or not, and, if you fall and break your neck when you wear them, well, we’ll take that as a sign. Right now just be grateful for small favors!’”

“Oh I like her already. She sounds just a wee bit irreverent.”

“Oh she is, and not just a wee bit. AND she’s funny…makes us all laugh. Her kids are even crazier. I love visiting them. But hey, one pair or two, there’s not a lot of scope for a priest splashing out on clothes, let alone shoes. The vow of poverty still applies! Can I get you a coffee?”

“You COULD, but can you afford it? I mean…that vow of poverty…”

“I’ll cut out breakfast for a year if it makes you feel better,” he answered, a smile once again playing around the corners of his mouth.

“In that case I’ll have a hot black with cream please…not stirred by the way! They know me here, so they’ll know what to do.”

“Mine is usually a boring flat white, but maybe for today I will change and you can educate me on the benefits of the cream.”

Once the waitress had put the coffees in front of them, Helen explained that whilst she loved black coffee, sipping it through cream was just a deliciously different experience. She had wanted to say an orgasmic experience, but thought better of the idea.

“I’ll take your word for it,”’ he replied. But as he was about to stir it into the coffee, she stopped him abruptly.

“No no! Let me show you. I learned to do this in Paris.”

“Name-dropping I see.”

“Something I try not to do…oops! I went there with my parents, just for a few days as we were flying on to Italy. Just watch. Hold the spoon downwards in your right hand, turn the bottom of the spoon to face your right hand (or left if you are left-handed), then carefully drizzle the cream down the back of the spoon, and let it float ON the coffee, not IN it! There. Now try it.”

“Wow! Well I never. That’s magical,” he said, taking his first sip through the creamy layer, “and it’s such a pleasant way to enjoy the contrast. This may well become my preferred style.

“Now, where were we before I had to involve myself in my congregational duties last Sunday? Actually, I’m so glad I bumped into you,” he smiled, crinkling the far corners of his mouth, his deep, dark eyes lighting up, sending them twinkling in her direction.

“OMG!”What am I thinking?” she asked herself as a small thrill, a shiver coursed through her body. “He’s a priest for heaven’s sake.

“We were actually talking about Maslow, or more correctly I suggested that you must have studied him.”

“Correct! You did, and you were also right. I have studied him…fascinating stuff from so many perspectives, and it all makes sense when you think about it. It’s true what he says about motivation in order to achieve particular needs.

“And also, that some needs clearly take precedence over others. I like how he states that our need to survive propels and molds our behavior. Motivation begins after this, but being able to survive must come first.”

“It makes sense for me as a student. I wouldn’t be able to move forward even from one day to the next, or one hour to the next, if I didn’t have the basics, food being one of the most important.”

“Oh dear, was that a hint? I should have asked if you’d like some cake, or a sandwich, given it’s close to lunch time.”

“Thanks, but no thank you Father. After shoes, food is my next most serious vice. If I caved into every temptation to eat, cake especially, I’d be the size of a house.”

“Oh I doubt that…you look pretty perfect from where I’m standing… and please, my name’s Alistair. Do you know there are three in my family with the name Alistair? Even my uncle and grandfather have the name.”

He was babbling on and he knew it. He should never have alluded to anything as intimate as a girl’s figure. But his breathing soon returned to normality when he realized she clearly hadn’t noticed.

“Well at least they only have to call one name for dinner,” she laughed. “All these name traditions…you just can’t escape them, can you?”

“You can’t, but please, you will call me Alistair, won’t you! Father sounds a little bit over the top, almost as if I am an older generation that needs respect. I’m twenty-eight and I suspect you might be nineteen…maybe twenty?”

“As of last week, I have lived twenty years on this earth, yet another reason to come home! Big parties are ‘de rigueur’ in my family I’m afraid. I’d have been happy with a collective Skype call and a first-class flight to Paris, but no, tradition prevailed.”

“Not much to ask,” he grinned.

“Well, as it was, I…” but they were interrupted by an older parishioner who was just leaving the café.

“Settled in yet Father?” she asked

“Not sure I can say that I am…I wrote the book on procrastination, as you can see. Another six months and I should be right. Helen and I have been having a good chat about her psychology course, and you know what they say about time.”

“Ah well, you have to have some time out. Besides, looks like Helen has probably got more to pack away than you…bit of retail therapy I’m guessing?”

“Guilty as charged Mrs Smith, BUT, this is the first bit of spending I’ve done in a whole year. To be honest I didn’t know where to begin.”

“Well I can see you managed to work it out. It’s like riding a bicycle. Best go. I’ve a hair appointment in a few minutes. If I miss that I’ll have to put myself in exile until the next vacancy! See you later.”

“And I must away too, Helen. It’s been great talking to somebody closer to my age. I’ve been caught up with the church committees these last few days, and you know what? I shouldn’t say this, but I feel when I walk into a room that I reduce the average age by twenty years at least.”

“Oh that’s mean Alistair. Time will catch up with us too…one day! Thanks for the coffee…and don’t forget the cream!”

“Thanks so much for the coffee lesson,” and he was off, leaving Helen with a warm glow that she hadn’t felt in a while. Who would have thought…a country town…some bargain shopping, and some great conversation…with a seriously attractive priest. The last part was nearly as good as buying shoes.