Ruthlessly

Ruth was a woman without faith, but she had one creed.

Never ever admit it.

It had helped her a lot. It helped her through that terrible accident when she reversed to park her car in the office garage, knocked down the caretaker's bicycle and sent the waste paper containers skidding down to the next level into the PR officer's new mercedes.
It helped her innumerous times in arguments with her husband. "No, I never promised to go to the shop". "No, I didn't forget to pay that bill". "No, I didn't break that cup". It was somebody else's mistake and she couldn't take any responsibility for what other people are doing. How would she know.

Now she was walking home in her usual stride, arms swinging energetically, her eyes staring past and through her fellow pedestrians. She scared a couple of kids and caused an insecure traffic warden to drop his pen, but hardly noticed. Her mind was elsewhere.

This morning, one of her stiletto-heeled black shoes had got stuck in the escalator in the metro. She had continued walking as if nothing had happened, for good reasons, because behind her the morning rush had come to a sudden, confused stop as the emergency alarm went off.
She had continued in the same manner all day. One stiletto-heeled black shoe, one tiptoing foot in a threadworn but formerly very expensive silk stocking. Her angry eyes daring anyone to take notice. In and out of meetings, all day. Now at last she was heading home, finally she would be able to drown her humiliation and frustration in a very stiff gin and tonic. Only a couple of blocks to go on the uneven pavement.

That evening would later turn out to be a defining moment in her existence. It took her completely unaware, and there was nothing she could have done to avoid it. A soft hand on her shoulder, a kind but sligthly worried voice talking straight into her ear.
- Excusez-moi Madame, il me semble que vous auriez perdu un de vos chaussures.
"It seems to me that you would have mislaid one of your shoes", what an understatement!
Ruth searched furiously for words but her French seemed completely evaporated. She considered brushing the woman aside, but suddenly her arms were feeble like spaghetti. She looked down at her hopelessly ridiculous bare foot in its broken stocking, and took a deep breath to keep her voice steady.

- Oops, she said.