Cracked! The Modern Nutcracker
As I bent again to yank my heel out of the grate in the parking garage, I wondered why on earth I had worn the most ridiculously high heels when I knew, I knew walking was involved. But I already knew the answer to that question. I am sick, you see, afflicted with the curse of loving shoes. This pair was quite lovely. Three inches high (a reasonable height to me), strappy and metallic. Everything a girl could ask for in a shoe with one tiny flaw. Shoes such as these were not meant to be walked in, barely even stood in. They belonged on some Hollywood red carpet, on a starlet's perfect foot, not in a dingy parking garage in Chicago in the middle of winter.
"Claire! Hurry up! We're going to miss it!" My little sister Jo (short for Josephine) called impatiently. I grunted something noncommittal and tugged again with no success. My family and I were on our way to see the Nutcracker ballet. It was our little family tradition. But instead of being meant for quality family time, it was a chance for my father to schmooze VIPs and CEOs. He's the chairman on some kind of investment board and the his company sponsored the ballet. I thought it was quite ridiculous I was still being dragged to a kids show when I was about to hit seventeen but my mother insisted and so here we were, dressed to the nines, walking from the Siberia of the parking to the elevator on the other side of the building. Although we could have easily gotten front row, valet parking, my dad insisted on being treated as a common man. I know. He's crazy.
"Here, let me help you with that," a low voice announced. I looked up to find a young guy about my age in a tux smiling down at me. He was tall, a little on the skinny side with curly dark brown hair and a smiling pair of eyes, which in this light were impossible see the color. He reached out a surprising large hand, and grasped my ankle, deftly pulling my heel out of the grate. I wobble a little, then caught my balance while my good Samaritan held my elbows and helped me get up. I brushed some hair out of my eyes and got a better look at my rescuer. I caught him doing the same thing and I thanked myself for reason number two I loved shoes. I looked good in them. Paired with my little black dress, I looked hot.
"Wow, thanks," I said giving my hair a little toss. I was about to introduce myself when my mom, now some feet ahead of me, yelled back,
"Honey!"
I winced hearing her shrill voice.
"Sorry," I grimaced at the stranger. He seemed to be laughing but shrugged good naturedly.
"I'll see you around Claire," he said and turned and walked back his own way. I hurriedly tottered to my family, welcomed back with exclamations at my slowness. I was so frazzled, it didn't occur to me until later to wonder how he knew my name.
As much as I proclaimed to distest going to see the Nutcracker, I secretly enjoyed watching it and I'm sure I would enjoy it more if I hadn't been forced by the threat of disownment to come. I loved seeing the dancers in their glittering tutus and hearing that time old tune as Clara watched the sugar plum fairy dance in her court. I always thought it was funny how similar my name was to the main characters. Claire and Clara. I was named after my grandmother however, so it was a simple coincidence. So I watched the show with some delight but my foot was tapping impatiently in that metallic heel. On this particular night I had plans. My best friend Eliza had been testing me throughout the performance with details for our big night out. It was one of our friend's birthday's and he was having a party at a club downtown. It was one of the perks of being a part of the privileged society that is wealth. Children under age? Rent out the entire club. During the second act I snuck to the bathroom to call Eliza. The lobby was mostly deserted as the show was still going on. A few bartenders mingled about waiting for the intermission rush. A table was set up selling souvenirs from the performance. DVDs, tee-shirts, and even your very own Nutcracker. I rolled my eyes at that. How many little girls would hope that that ugly doll would turn into a handsome prince? I always thought the Nutcrackers were a little creepy. An old woman at the booth was eying me speculatively but I was not interested. I turned away and flipped open my phone. No service. Mumbling curses about the architecture of the concert hall, I wandered around holding up my phone searching for a signal. I spun around in frustration about to head back to my parents and let out a little scream to find that the old woman from the booth had appeared behind me.
"Jesus Lady! Are you trying to give me a heart attack?"
She looked sheepish for a minute but recovered quickly.
"I'm sorry dear I just thought you might want your Nutcracker."
"Ma'am I don't need a Nutcracker, I really need to get back to the show and I forgot my wallet-"
She looked confused.
"But it's yours!"
"What? I never bought a Nutcracker?"
After a few more forceful rejections on my part the woman shoved the doll into my hands and walked away. I sighed heavily but knew it was just a waste of time. Senile old woman, I thought bitterly and shoved the unsightly soldier into my purse without another glance.
After the show I waded among the hoards of people, milling about with no known purpose to my dad.
"Ah, here she is! My little girl, Claire!" He smiled warmly, creasing his tanned face.
"Not so little anymore dad, "I objected with a force grin. The few portly men in his circle laughed and exclaimed over how much I had grown. This was my chosen arena to manipulate my father.
"So daddy, I'm off to Steven's birthday party with Eliza. I'll see you at home." I started to leave quickly, without giving him time to absorb the words but he caught my arm.
"What party sweetie?"
"Oh daddy! I told you all about it this morning. It's at his parent's estate. They're throwing him a big to-do."
"So they'll be there?"
"Of course," I sweetly, innocently wide-eyed. Yeah, getting smashed upstairs in the VIP room.
"Okay," he said brightening a little, ready to return to his friends.
"Be home by 11!"
"Oh Rick!" One of the portly gentlemen exclaimed. "So early! Don't you remember what it was like to be young!"
"Oh alright, 12. no later young lady."
I threw my arms around my dad and winked over his shoulder at my savior.
"Thanks Dad! Love you!" I called over my shoulder as I hurried away.
As planned Eliza was waiting with her vintage mustang at the side entrance.
"Hey girl! How the show?"
"Lame, as always."
She giggled.
"Now the real fun begins!"
"Oh yeah!"
There was no way I could have known of course just how fun that particular night was going to turn out.
