“Are you ready yet, Nami?” Miucha knocked on the door of the dressing room. Nami called out that she needed a bit more time.
After the foot measuring it was time to try on outfits. Nami had eventually decided on a pair of simple red heels, so Miucha and Nami put together a red and white outfit to match. It was an impromptu selection, but Nami could undoubtedly make it work.
So, shoes you can walk in without pain, Miucha thought. It had been a long time since she’d made shoes based on that concept. She’d go with a wide ankle strap for stability, and use a low-resistance material for the sole. What about material? A shiny enamel? Or would satin impress this crowd more?
Her contemplation of the merits of various materials was interrupted by the emergence of Nami from the dressing room.
“How does it look?” Nami asked.
She was wearing a frilly blouse with an open neckline and bright-red short shorts.
Miucha exhaled. Nami looked perfect from head to toe. The silhouette of her waist with the blouse tucked in, her thighs curving out from her shorts—they were all simply in ideal proportions to one another, like a well-drawn sea chart. Her big, dark eyes seemed at first as innocent and cute as a pet cat’s, until she flashed the occasional bewitching look that made her look as dangerous as a panther.
“It looks very good,” Miucha said, although it was also clear to her that Nami wasn’t well suited to being a model. She was so perfect that no one would be able to focus on the clothes. With that hair and those legs, who was going to notice the velvet ribbon around her waist that was the highlight of the outfit?
“No problem with the clothes, then,” Miucha confirmed. “Let’s try on the shoes.”
“You were just measuring my feet a few minutes ago,” Nami responded in awe. “They’re not already done, are they?”
“I got a stock pair started while you were trying on the clothes. Give me five minutes. There’s no decorative detailing yet, but you should be able to test the comfort.”
Miucha pulled a half-finished pair of shoes out of a large pocket in her apron and quickly resumed working on them. They were far from complete, but a bit of tightening up the loose stitching with the shoe on Nami’s foot was enough to nearly complete the upper. After that, she just needed to attach a toplift with heel nails. The kona wood heel could split easily, so she had to be very careful hammering the nails.
“You’re good at this,” said Nami, watching Miucha do the finishing work on the shoes. “It’s very delicate work. I can tell from a glance that the upper is really sturdy. This isn’t at all like those horrible pumps you sold me.”
“Both made by the same person, however,” Miucha reminded her. “It’s a difference in time and effort, not skill.”
“How long have you been involved with Lebno?” Nami asked.
Crack! The question surprised Miucha so much that she hammered a huge crack into the expensive heel.
“Who told you about that?” she demanded.
“His collar did. I saw your lipstick on it.”
It was that rare shade of cool pink. Miucha put a hand to her lips without thinking.
Nami continued, “Is that the reason why you’re compromising your own principles to obey his requests?”
“My principles?”
“You want to do better, more careful work, and make every pair of shoes as fine as the first ones, don’t you?” Nami continued with her line of inquiry.
“I didn’t—” Miucha started, but she couldn’t deny it. She sighed. “What makes you think that?”
“It’s obvious. You’re really talented at what you do.”
Miucha glanced down at her hands—the palms that always smelled of leather, and the stained prints of her fingertips. She always wore nail polish and perfume to distract from these details, because she was ashamed of them.
“I have friends who are cooks and ship carpenters, and you looked just like them when you took measurements—instinctively reaching for the exact tools and materials that are needed, when I can’t even tell the difference between them. I space out for a minute, and you’ve already completed the job. All of those complex steps, performed as easily as if they’re written in your genetic code. It’s like magic.”
“Wow, that’s impressive,” Miucha said, before realizing that Nami was complimenting her. Her cheeks slowly reddened. Like magic. No one had ever spoken about Miucha’s talent in that way.
“You’ve got all of this skill, but you’re using it to make these awful shoes. It’s such a waste.”
That idea was new to her, too. Was it really a waste?
Miucha put down the shoe frame and shook her head. “I’m fine with it. It’s Lebno’s decision. The Lebno Listchaque brand wouldn’t exist without him. And if I opposed Lebno…”
“You’d get fired?”
“I don’t think he’d do that. But I don’t think we’d be…together…anymore.”
“And you don’t want to get dumped?” Nami asked, bluntly. Miucha blinked.
“Don’t want to…? I mean, he’s Lebno Listchaque! It’s an incredible honor to be his partner. He’s a world-famous designer, and being his girlfriend means a lot in this industry.”
“But the initials on his ring didn’t seem to belong to you.” Nami showed Miucha a silver ring out of nowhere. Miucha recognized it.
“That’s—”
“I found it earlier. It’s Lebno’s, isn’t it? Will you return it for me?”
It was clear from Nami’s expression that she wanted more information about those initials. She tossed the ring to Miucha, who caught it.
“Lebno has always had multiple girlfriends. It’s not just me. I think I’m his third. But I’m fine with it. He’s Lebno Listchaque! It’s just amazing that I get to be with him, right?”
“Doesn’t it hurt?” Nami asked. Her tone was straightforward, but Miucha knew that Nami pitied her, and that recognition made her feel terrible. “Maybe this is none of my business, Miucha, but is being Lebno’s lover actually doing anything positive for you?”
“It is!” Miucha protested. “My friends are all jealous…”
“And is that worth giving up on who you really are?”
Miucha closed her hand around the ring. Her throat tensed.
“Yes,” she answered.
Someone as beautiful as you wouldn’t understand, Miucha thought. Ordinary people need some help if they want to achieve a remarkable life. If it means losing out, being true to yourself isn’t worth it at all.