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To,

Anyone who has felt the world on his or her shoulders.

Know that you can turn the weight that is crushing your soul,

and turn it into fuel for success!

- Weatherly

Know,

“You are an exceptional person, and a person complete in your own right.

You must not seek reassurance of any kind, which is not of your own fastidious standards.

It is in your indomitable and singular talent; you must never compromise for others approval.

ALWAYS FOLLOW YOUR OWN STAR!”

- Fran

Based on real events.

TABLE OF CONTENTS INTRODUCTION THE WONDER OF A SHOE ROOM 1 CHAPTER 1 WHERE THERE IS A BEGINNING, THERE IS AN ENDING 7 CHAPTER 2 PLAYLIST FOR A FUNERAL 13 CHAPTER 3 THE FORK IN THE ROAD: THREE MONTHS LATER 17 CHAPTER 4 THE SCENIC ROUTE: UPWARD AND ONWARD 21 CHAPTER 5 IN HER SHOES: BUT NOT IN HER FOOTSTEPS 24 APPENDIX 27

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Introduction

The Wonder of a Shoe Room

Deep in suburban Los Angeles was a two-story Tudor house with wood and brick. Inside

the house, behind two lacy adorned French doors was a special place where a girl could go to

imagine the possibilities of her future life paths. The room had white walls, big windows and

streams of natural light pouring in during the daytime. A view of a big pool of water was seen

from the windows. This room had been many things over the years: a music room, a closet, and

for a very short period it was a security cove. With these uses, the room itself was no bigger than

a mid-sized balcony. The right-hand side of the closet was lined floor to ceiling in L-shaped

white shelving, spaced perfectly for a collection shoes.

There were rows upon rows of shoes. Every type of shoe was present in this shoe room;

boots, heels, tennis shoes, platforms, flats, ballet, boxing, sandals, loafers, oxfords, and the shoe

list goes on. On the left side, shoeboxes were stacked to the ceiling. Underneath the two

windows on the middle wall was a big chestnut dresser filled with pajamas, gloves, scarfs, and

many frilly things that a girl could play dress up with for days on end.

Most women love shoes, and for good reason. While the human body may fluctuate in

weight and measurement, after puberty the size of feet tends to stay the same. For most women,

this is just another reason to love shoes. For Fran, there were many reasons to love shoes. Some

might call Fran’s shoe collection a sign of addiction; others would call the collection a work of

art. Fran had a shoe collection that would leave most in shock and awe and she shared

similarities with this collection. Like her shoes, Fran had a personality to fit every occasion.

On Monday, Fran could be funky like a pair of white platform sandals embroidered with

red roses. Tuesday, Fran could have been feeling like a smarty-pants, so she would choose the

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perfect black and white wingtip oxfords. Wednesday was wild with beige thigh-high suede

laced-back boots. On Thursdays, she could show some western attitude with mid-calf eggplant

cowboy boots with a silver T-chain around the ankle. For Fridays Fran was fierce with the

freshest Adidas superstars that coordinated with her outfit; she had them in every color.

Saturdays were typically scandalous because anything from stilettos to slippers was an option.

Sometimes on Sundays Fran would head down to the Marina, or boardwalk wearing either red

striped wedge espadrilles or blue dockside flats. Fran was different on any given day, thus why

she must have felt the need for various shoes as a form of expression.

Fran was many things: a daughter, a sister, a wife, a mother, and a career woman. One of

two of Fran’s professions was as a psychic. The other profession was an accountant. Being

Jewish and an accountant was no stretch of the imagination, but the psychic part was shocking to

most. There was an essence of effortless charm to Fran, it was a type of magic. Fran’s two kids

Al, and Leah grew up admiring their mother’s hypnotizing personality and friends of Fran, were

under the same spell. A longtime friend of Fran’s shared with Leah a memory that encompassed

the powerful magic of Fran.

“Fran made me laugh so hard all the time, she was the funniest! She was a force. We

went to Paris together, a while ago. She had a friend who was letting her use their

apartment in Paris. What we didn’t know until we got there that the friend was letting a

guy stay at the place too. Fran talked to the friend, who assured Fran that we would have

the bedroom and the guy would stay in the living room. The guy was a jerk and said, ‘I

was here first.’ He made us stay in the living room. Every night the guy would bring a

girl home to have sex, and we would be forced to listen to it. They were loud. Fran and I

couldn't believe it. Fran kept saying to me, ‘She's faking, she has to be!’ We weren't

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getting any sleep, and finally Fran yelled out, ‘Oh cum already!!! We know you're faking.

You are not impressing us!’ It was completely silent after that. You could hear a pin drop.

We laughed the rest of the night, and the rest of the trip about it.”

Memories like this makes Leah smirk; her mother really was a force. As stereotypical as it

sounds, Fran was the kind of lady that men wanted to be with, and women wanted to be. Fran

was as funny, as she was charming. Plus, she had brains, and beauty to boot.

When Leah was a little girl, Fran use to read her a bedtime story, Love You Forever. The

gist of the story was about being there for your family, forever. At the end of the story Fran

would whisper in Leah’s ear, “I’ll love you forever. I’ll like you for always. As long as I’m

living my baby you’ll be,” which was the song the mother in the bedtime story would sing to her

baby throughout his life. The song confused Leah, she specifically wondered about the last line

of the song, as it never made any sense to Leah. In fairness, there were a lot of things about Fran

that never made any sense.

Very few people knew why Fran was so colorful. Most only saw Fran for what she

displayed on the surface. The chronological order of Fran’s marriages best describes her

progression as an addict and manipulator. Her first husband was a pharmacist, her second

husband a doctor, and the third was an addict. Fran never married for love, unless the love of

drugs counts as a type of love. Being a manipulatively charming addict has its upsides, like the

fact that Fran could score drugs anywhere! Watching Fran chat up a bellboy in a random city is

like watching a prima ballerina doing the most awe inducing pointe work, a balancing act of

technique and grace. The bell boys felt desired by her to the point of helping Fran get whatever it

was she wanted, even if it could cost them their job, or jail time. Flirting with danger can be fun,

but flirting with Fran was a work of art, by a true con artist.

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Social animals like Fran look to others for validation, kind of like the high school popular

girl and her lemmings: they need each other. In the life of Fran there was never a true moment of

loneliness because there was always someone to listen to her stories: whether it was her friends,

her children, or a stranger. A high school friend of Fran’s recalls being captivated by her.

"When Fran and I were 17, she took me to a modeling gig with her. It was a billboard

advertisement for the movie American Graffiti. Wardrobe dressed her in a gingham

poodle type skirt, a white crisp short sleeve shirt, bobby socks, black and white saddle

shoes. Her hair was set in curlers that when released, sprung golden curls all over her

head. When Fran smiled, the entire room smiled. They had her do pirouettes and twirl

around so her skirt and curls floated like she did. I sat with a producer in awe of her

joyful personality, and unabashed performance. I wanted to be her but being her friend

was incredible. Fran was petite as she was graceful. She slid across the stage in the tiny

saddle shoes. One of the shoelaces came untied; she stopped and kneeled to tie it. When

she looked up at me with a huge smile and blew me a kiss. I felt overcome with feelings

of privilege to be her friend, as well as awe of her grace. I knew from that day on that

Fran was special."

Indeed, it is almost a fact, that Fran was special and especially good at charming people. Her

friends thought they knew her but they bought into her bullshit, just like Fran wanted. Fran’s

friends were like a drunk audience; they were gullible.

Being the manipulator that Fran was, she would prey on a person’s weakness to get what

she wanted, by telling them one of her fabricated sob stories. Fran called the cops on Al, when he

was 15. The cops arrested him outside of his own house under the assumption that he was a thief.

It was a late night when Leah came outside to witness her older brother being treated like a

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criminal. There is only so much a 10-year-old can say to a cop without being called a clueless

child. Fran watched from her bedroom window as her children tried to explain that Al was no

thief but that their mother had a twisted sense of punishment. The cops did not listen and Al was

arrested that night because he had crossed Fran.

Family abandoned Fran when she was 39 because Fran was too far-gone for help. By

then, Fran was doing narcotics daily. It is sad to say Fran did not have many people to motivate

her towards greatness, the saddest part being that Fran was not self-motivated because she did

not see her own potential. Since Fran had only fake friends it debatable who Fran’s best friend

was: her addictions, herself, her children, or more specifically her daughter. There is some bias

from the author of this story, as she happens to be Fran’s youngest and only daughter.

Fran’s only son Al is known for being a socially charming animal who dances to the beat

of his own drum, and he would not have it any other way. Al has spent much of his life much

like Fran did, living out every daydream. He is married to his wife Beth, who graduated at the

top of her class in college, and while simultaneously fighting cystic fibrosis and diabetes. It is

great to be a dreamer like Fran or Al, but sometimes it is also great be realistic. The reality is, no

one must follow in their parent’s footsteps.

The year of 2011 there was not much to complain about. Leah was contentedly

independent, Fran was being Fran, Al and Beth were happily married. Fran did not change much

over the years which means 2011 was no different than the years or decade before; she was still a

using addict. There were no men in Fran’s life. That was the only difference in 2011. Al was in

his second year of marriage with Beth, and he was attending his first year of law school. Leah

was working as a server at a famous Austrian chef’s restaurant in Hollywood, and living in a

three-bedroom house with eight people. Co-workers at the restaurant became Leah’s work

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family. One co-worker stood out from the rest, Stewart who was an early thirty something, tall,

blonde haired, blue eyed sarcastic writer who had a devilish sparkle behind his eyes when he

smiled. It was only a matter of time before the flirting started. Leah would leave her phone on the

restaurant’s bar countertop unlocked and open to a sexy photo to catch Stewart’s attention, and it

did. Though Stewart innocently flirted back, it never went anywhere because they respected the

vows Stewart had with his stupidly hot blonde wife. The two co-workers flirted as a need to feel

desired, but the line remained firmly in place. 2011 was good, but as the saying goes, “all good

things must come to an end.” The year had to end and so did the luck of the characters in

question.

Little did any of them know that things would change forever in 2012. Fleetwood Mac’s

song, Landslide, plays in the background minutes before the New Year rings in. Al and Beth

celebrated with their friends at an apartment in San Jose. Fran was already at home in a drug

induced sleep when the ball dropped. Leah was working at the restaurant avoiding the advances

of drunken patrons. Leah watched Stewart turn on the charm for his tables to get bigger tips, and

then later listened to him bitch about having to work on the holiday. It may not have been the

most glamorous New Year’s Eve but it was the last New Year’s Eve they spent carelessly in the

moment. 2012 changed everything; it is debatable whether it was for the better or for the worse.

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Chapter 1

Where There is a Beginning, There is an Ending

A hot day was an understatement; it was 104 degrees in the San Fernando Valley on

August 25, 2012. So, hot, that you could not only fry an egg on the sidewalk but you could fry

the bacon to go with it. At 10 AM, Leah woke up to the sound of her phone’s ringtone, The

Beatles I am the Walrus, exploding due to the mass amount of incoming text messages, phone

calls, and voicemails. Leah had almost 50 notifications lighting up her phone that morning,

which was unusual. The day before two things happened; Leah had talked to her estranged

mother, Fran, for the first time in three years, and Leah’s sick sister-in-law, Beth, was told she

had a match for a kidney transplant.

When Leah saw a text from Beth saying, “Call me ASAP,” Leah did not even bother

completely waking up before she called Beth. The next thing Leah knew, she was a hot potato on

the other end of the phone as her older brother and his wife, Beth, argued about who was going

to break the news. Al took the phone and simply said, “Our mother is dead, go to her house. I’m

flying in.” Leah grabbed her keys, and ran to the front door. Before Leah knew it, she had run

into the front door face first, and woke up her roommates because she was screaming at the top

of her lungs one word, “WHY.” Two out of eight of her roommates found her flat on her back on

the hardwood floor crying before she bolted out the door to her childhood home. You would

think Leah would have noticed that she was running out of the house barefoot in boxers and a

tank top, but that did not even cross her mind. Little did Leah know that when she got to her

mom's house, it would be a crime scene.

Greeted by her family, her mother’s supposed friends, a whole team of cops, her 80-year-

old grandparents, her aunt, and uncle were there hours before Leah arrived. Or least it seemed

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that way when she pulled up and saw them sitting in the front yard in the patio furniture from the

backyard. Leah assumed the cops were nice enough to get her elderly grandparents chairs

otherwise she had no idea how those chairs got there. Fran had Minerva, a housekeeper who was

an incredibly sweet individual who had given birth to a daughter while working for Fran. The

daughter was now six-years-old and sitting in front of the house. Minerva’s daughter was named

after Fran- Franny. Everyone sat outside in terribly hot weather because the cops were

investigating the scene and Fran’s cause of death.

When Leah arrived, it was 10:30 AM. By the time the cops guarding the front had let the

family in it was about 3:15 PM. Before opening the air-conditioned gates of hell that was her

mother’s house everyone watched as the stretcher that carried her mother in a body bag was

wheeled out and into the coroner’s van. Standing in silence and disbelief Leah watched as her

family wept. Leah does not remember crying in that moment. However, Leah does remember

feeling like her eyes were popping out of her head, and her right hand was clutching her mouth

in its palm. Leah’s disbelief grew as her mother’s “friends” attempted to fling their body on the

stretcher to see her. Leah lunged forward to stop the unnecessary antics, and possibly let her

anger out on the wrong person. One of the speedy police officers that was walking to the van

denied her mother’s “friends” that “privilege.”

The policeman gave Fran’s “best friend” a push away from the body; Leah wanted to

vomit at the sight of the outrageous antics of her mother’s “friend.” Their actions had Leah

asking the cops to have Fran’s friends removed or asked to leave the scene, her childhood home.

Leah only remembers the time her mother was carried out because Al, her brother, had not

shown up yet, which means Leah was the next of kin who had to sign forms for the coroner. The

cops quickly ushered her grandparents, her aunt, her uncle, and Leah into the living room where

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the coroner handed Leah all the jewelry Fran was wearing. Fran had been wearing multiple

necklaces, rings, and a bracelet. The coroner explained the three possibilities for cause of death,

which were infection, heart attack, and overdose. Leah spent the rest of the day trying to figure

out how to put the pieces back together. A self-proclaimed expert of picking up the pieces, Leah

was at a loss for what to do next.

Fran left behind a war zone to clean after her sudden death. She was going through

bankruptcy, she was being evicted from her house, and the things she left behind were not the

most pleasant to find. The family had one month to get everything out of her two-story house,

and most of them were only there for the first two weeks. Leah got the opportunity to be there for

the whole month. The last two weeks, it was up to her to clean up the wreckage. Everyone can

learn a lot about a person through his or her material possessions. Leah was not surprised by the

things she found in her mother's house for Leah already knew exactly who her mother was. Fran

was a smart woman who made extremely poor choices, and that might be an understatement.

Unfortunately, Leah was not the only one going through the mess her mother left- as

there was a team of friends and family helping clean. The team was there day and night helping

any way they could. There were days where Leah would turn the corner into the kitchen and see

her cousin who has her own kids to worry about sitting at the table arguing with the bank. It is

crazy to see so many people come to help. Every corner of that two-story house had someone in

it helping in any way they could. Al and Leah decided it was best to shield their family from

seeing the obscene things that made their way into their mother's life by keeping them out of her

bedroom.

Leah remembers vividly sitting in the middle her mother’s wooden king-sized bed on top

of the sky blue fluffy sheets while watching four friends sort through Fran’s stuff. A good friend

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of Leah’s, Kit, asked what she wanted her to go through; Leah pointed Kit towards the shoe

room, which was filled with a dresser and racks upon racks of shoes. Two of Leah’s roommates

entered the room to visit with her for a moment. It was mere seconds before Kit emerged from

the task requesting a trash bag, when another friend, Brent, offered her a grocery bag. Kit denied

the small bag. A look of horror washed over Leah’s face, to which Kit responded with a heartfelt,

“Oh you know what I found don’t you?!” Leah was speechless because Kit was right; she knew

exactly what horror she wanted to hide in a trash bag- a neon pink, foot long, double-headed

dildo. It felt like hours to Leah, but it was only minutes before Leah begged someone, anyone, to

find a big trash bag to dispose of the embarrassing horror show that lurked inside that dresser

drawer. Out of nowhere, a trash bag emerged, and Kit disposed of the monster dildo. Six people

watched as Kit exited the shoe room with the filled trash bag in one hand, held as far away from

her as her arms would allow. There was no way to read the room for the reactions varied. Shock,

awe, terror, disgust, laughter, and shame had all shown up for that moment in time.

Fran was already considered a black sheep; the family did not need to know the degree of

how different she truly was. The conservative Jewish grandparents Leah knew and loved would

have been more heartbroken then they already were, had they known who their daughter had

become. The grandparents are such conservative Jews that they read the Jewish Journal daily,

which is published weekly.

Fran had become the poster child for drug addiction, sex addiction, shopping addiction,

food addiction, and abuse. Fran had turned her old bedroom into just another storage unit for

drugs. When Leah went to clear out her old closet she found nothing but boxes of unused

syringes, filled opiate drug vials, and various medical supplies. If Leah had known at 21-years-

old, when she left home that in three years she would be back in Fran’s house cleaning out drugs

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and sex toys on a larger scale than ever imagined, because her mother’s habit reached new

heights, Leah would not have bat an eye at the idea. Leah would have probably asked, “How

large of a scale!” Then laughed it off. The scale is an immeasurable quantity but what fun is life

if we dare not to do the impossible. Al and Leah paid thousands of dollars for a garbage truck

company to clear out some of the filth. A truck was filled to the brim in a matter of two hours,

with a load that barely made a dent in the junk that had piled up in the three-car garage. The

truck did make a dent in their wallets- about $2,000 dollars’ worth of a dent. Leah could have

paid her whole house’s rent with that money.

A mountain range of black trash bags filled with enough prescription drugs to fully

supply a pharmacy for three months filled the truck. It was a drug addict’s paradise jam-packed

with pills, injectables, and lollipops, all of which were laced with the hardest-to-come by

pharmaceutical death traps-- some say medications. All the big players were there Morphine,

Demerol, Codeine, OxyContin, Phenytoin, Percocet, and other designer drugs filling the bags to

the brim-- piles of what seemed to be an endless number of drugs. Seeing all those drugs, Leah

only thought one thing. Leah knew in that moment she was not her mother’s daughter because

had Fran found those drugs, Fran would have partied, HARD. Fran was known for letting drug

addiction get the best of her, and Leah refused to be Fran. Leah could feel the wonder in her eyes

looking at the mountains of drugs but not for the reason most might think. Leah wondered how

does one dispose of such a large amount of prescription drugs without them getting into the

wrong hands, or if it was legal to dispose of drugs in the first place.

Beyond the drugs, there were also various sex toys, which kept popping up out of

nowhere. Fran was never shy about sex, and yet, there are things kids would rather not see in

their mother’s possession, such as her double-headed dildo. In fairness, Leah stumbled upon that

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one night she was “borrowing” the cutest knee-high tan suede boots. Fran had left the dresser

drawer in the shoe room open. Leah was not supposed to be in there and yet she was, and so was

the dildo. As Leah grabbed the tan boots she turned around and saw it starring back at her. Leah

was 13 when she first saw it, and she was 24 when Kit found it. Leah had gone 11 years without

seeing that pink monster, and could have gone with the rest of her life without every seeing it

again. You might think that was the worst of it but that was just the tip of the sex toy iceberg.

In the two weeks, that they spent cleaning out the house, the kids spent every night

together at the dinner table. Al, Beth, Leah, and friends would talk in the kitchen after the family

went home. One of the nights the group ended up talking about the weird items they dug out that

day. Leah looked across the table and told her brother that she had found vibrators in a fanny

pack inside the master bedroom closet. The next thing Leah knew, it was like a game of Clue and

everyone was going around the circle sharing which room they found what sex toy in. Kit with

the pink double-headed dildo in the shoe room; Beth with the magic wands underneath the bed in

the master bedroom, Al with the pocket rockets in the master bathroom, Leah with the vibrators

in the fanny pack in the closet. Leah does not remember who it was, but someone came across a

leather S&M gimp mask, and bondage gear.

Fran was a believer in magic. It was expected that tarot cards, sage, and crystals in the

home of a psychic, however, finding family photos inside compact mirrors with the faces crossed

out and spells on the back, is a bit unusual for most households. Leah’s picture was the first

bound photo to be found, it was inside the master bedroom’s middle desk drawer and the most

recent picture Fran had from three years ago. Leah found it and was originally upset at the idea

that Fran tried voodoo on her. But, as the time passed, Leah had a laugh because she found that

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everyone in the family had been bound. Everyone else was not the problem Fran was the one

with the issues.

Chapter 2

A Playlist for a Funeral

1. Elton John -Tiny Dancer

2. The Turtles -So Happy Together

3. Eagles -Peaceful Easy Feeling

4. Fleetwood Mac -Landslide

5. Beach Boys -California Girls

6. Don Henley -Heart of the Matter

7. John Denver -Leaving on a Jet Plane

8. The Beatles -I am the Walrus

9. Eagles -Witchy Woman

10. Fleetwood Mac -Gypsy

11. Guttermouth -Lipstick

12. Ed Sheeran -The A Team

13. Wilson Phillips -Hold on

14. Young the Giant -Cough Syrup

15. Ani Difranco -Angry Anymore

16. Dixie Chicks -Wide Open Spaces

17. Ed Sheeran -Save Myself

18. Nine Inch Nails -Hurt

19. Terra Naomi -Suffer for her Sins

20. Red Hot Chili Peppers -Under the Bridge

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21. Stevie Nicks -Talk to Me

Funerals do not typically have a soundtrack or a playlist but, like Fran, her funeral was

anything but typical. Leah made a playlist to remember Fran by - playlist that played at Fran’s

funeral. Tracks 1-10 embody who Fran was, tracks 11-21 are triggers for Leah of memories of

Fran. There are a lot of reasons why Fran was the way she was. Fran walked a rocky path, in

stylish shoes of course. Beth once said that Stevie Nicks was Fran’s doppelganger. Leah argued

that Fran looked like Elizabeth Montgomery, but eventually agreed that she shared the same

magical essence as Stevie Nicks. For Leah, there is not a day that goes by that does not trigger a

memory linked to Fran.

A sweet smell of summer, sweat, seagulls, and salt water lingered in the air. It must have

been more than 100 degrees in the Marina on September 7, 2012. Even in wedge sandals and a

sleeveless dress there was no breeze only swampy sweat and the feeling of water falling over

every pore. Fran’s last will stated that she wanted to be buried at sea and used as fish food. There

are only a handful of states that will let you drop a body into the ocean and - it is surprising that

any state allows that type of funeral. Since California is not among the creepy states, Fran’s body

needed to be cremated and a permit had to be acquired, but Fran got what she wanted, a funeral

at sea. Fran’s parents were members of a yacht club, which made getting boats for the burial at

sea simple. Whoever organized the funeral did a good job because they covered elements that

would have otherwise gone completely ignored. Elements like catering, post-funeral event space,

attendee management, alternative ways to hear the funeral when not out to sea, and flowers.

Fran’s kids, Al and Leah never knew who made the funeral arrangements. It was expected for the

burial to be a small family affair but it was much bigger than that.

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Transportation to and from the yacht club was a blur for the kids. Leah was at the yacht

club and then she wasn’t. Three powerboats, and a sailboat set course for a short journey just

passed the breakwater. Boat one had Al, Beth, her aunt, her uncle, the grandparents, a great aunt,

a great uncle, a captain, and Leah. Boats 2-4 had people on them. The grandparents did not trust

Leah standing on the swim step to help Al scatter Fran’s ashes because they thought she would

fall in. Leah did not listen. Standing there holding her mother’s ashes on the back of the boat on

the swim step next to Al Leah felt a lot. Leah felt the sun shining on her face, wind in her hair,

the sea splashing at her feet, and her heart continuing to shatter into unimaginably tiny jagged

pieces. A funny thing happens when the dusty ash hits the ocean; it sparkles like

bioluminescence even in the brightest of afternoons. Tiny Dancer played in the background as

Fran’s remains became fish food. The three other boats circled the area as the people on the boats

threw red roses into the water creating a whirlpool of ocean, sparkling ashes, and red roses-- a

truly haunting and breathtaking sight to behold. After that, the family on the boat just held each

other in a circle on the boat crying, while listing to the playlist.

Back at the yacht club, there was a reception of sorts catered by Brent’s deli. There is not

much to be remembered about the party. A lot of weirdoes came out of the woodwork to harass,

and to ask unbelievably inappropriate questions. One of Fran’s ex-boyfriends from 20 years prior

asked if he could have his mother’s plate back from Fran’s house; Leah responded by walking

away. After putting together a master-piece of a sandwich (an egg bread, pastrami, turkey

sandwich with all the fixings), Leah sat down to finally have a moment to herself, which was

quickly ruined by a nosey cousin. Sabrina sat down in the chair next to Leah’s. As Leah took her

first bite, Sabrina hounded her with questions. “Where are the animals going? What happens to

the house? Who gets Fran’s money?” The last question made the bite Leah just swallowed come

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right back up. Fran’s body had just been laid to rest and yet Sabrina could not let a clearly

emotionally exhausted Leah eat in peace. Leah quickly put the sandwich down and looked for

the nearest exit. Leah would never forgive Sabrina for ruining that sandwich for her. Leah went

home that night angrily took off her wedges; she was mad mainly for having to bury her mother,

and slightly for missing out on that sandwich. Leah found herself floating deep in the bottom of a

bottle that night; she spent three full months at the bottom of various bottles.

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Chapter 3

The Fork in the Road: Three Months Later

For three months, Leah attempted to drink her pain away, which did her little good.

Alcohol was not the only thing on her list of bad coping mechanisms. Labor Day was days

before Fran’s funeral. Leah’s coworker, Stewart, had walked into his small Hollywood

apartment, and in on his wife cheating on him, in their bed, but managed to make it into work

that day anyway. The news of Stewart’s heartbreak had spread all the way to Leah, before noon

that day. Sitting in Fran’s backyard with two female co-workers, a drunken Leah came up with a

plan to seduce Stewart. One of the co-workers faked a mass group text, to Stewart and Leah,

inviting them to a work party in a week. This gave Leah a chance to respond to the text and get

Stewart’s attention. Minutes later, she had received a texted from a random number; from the

person, she wanted it to be from, Stewart. This text began, a fun game of cat and mouse for

Leah; Stewart never stood a chance, because he was always meant to be the prey.

Seven days later, Young the Giant’s Cough Syrup track was on repeat, in Leah’s head. As

Leah waited for Stewart’s arrival at the work party, she hummed the hook of Cough Syrup,

“Life's too short to even care at all, oh. I'm losing my mind, losing my mind, losing control.”

Leah wore a tight red dress, a pair of Fran’s black peep toe stiletto heels, and an alcohol induced

smile to the casino-themed party. Out in the smoking section, a group of co-workers chatted, as a

slender figure in black high-top converse, jeans, a black button-down shirt, and a newsboy cap

walked up. Instantly, a spark lit behind Leah’s dead eyes. It was Stewart. Every fiber in Leah’s

body screamed wanting to tackle her longtime crush, but she could barely look him directly in

his beautiful blue eyes. Once Leah locked eyes with Stewart, the gravitational pull was

undeniable. It was the first time that either of them had seen someone without pity in their eyes.

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The two found a sliver of acceptance and understanding. They found a place of comfort in each

other, when their individual worlds were crumbling. Ever since Labor Day, it had been Leah’s

plan to escape into the arms of Stewart, but she had no idea what would come next, or if he

would let her in.

Stewart and Leah were like two magnets of pain. Finding someone who was hurting on

the same, yet completely different level was comforting to the two. The work party helped give

Leah and Stewart a reason to come together. The two pulled together with force that night,

basically inseparable. Leah and Stewart broke a lot of rules that night: they smoked weed in the

walk-in freezer, smoked in the walk-in refrigerator, and drank at the jobsite. They made out a lot:

in the walk-ins, the prep room, the dry pantry, the office, the women’s bathroom, the patio, and

the parking lot. Leah brought Stewart home that night to see how far things would go. The drunk

Leah and Stewart passed out fully clothed while spooning in Leah’s bed. Waking up in the

strong arms of Stewart made Leah feel something she had not felt in a long time, safe, and at

home. She could have lived in that singular moment, forever. There are different ways people

hug. Some hug to be polite, others hug to show sympathy, and a few wrap their arms tight

around you, to prevent you from abandoning them. In his sleep, Stewart subconsciously was

gripping to Leah like an otter to a clamshell. Leah, not so subconsciously, liked it.

The ill-made goal set by Leah, was to numb their pain by indulging in lustful acts of sex,

although, things never turn out as planned. The time spent with Stewart was short-lived. In those

moments they shared, the taste of bitter tears, and burnt sugar hung on their lips. It was

bittersweet. Stewart and Leah, spent every night intoxicated together, because they could not be

trusted to be alone with their pain. Not like being together was any less harmful. Freshly

abandoned does not set anyone up for a stable foundation for a relationship. Many nights were

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spent walking from a Hollywood party, Jumbo’s Clown Room, Harvard and Stone, or a liquor

store near Stewart’s apartment. One night, the dangerously drunken duo stumbled in through

Stewart’s front door and on to his bed. While rolling around on the bed, it became obvious that a

wave of discomfort had washed over Stewart, when he realized he was still in the place where he

had found his wife. Though Leah and Stewart had completely remodeled the apartment, as well

as changed the sheets, it did not remove the feeling of betrayal, and love lost in this room for

Stewart. Leah wanted to cure Stewart’s pain but realized he had to do it himself, which was

something Leah had yet to do.

It was oddly comforting, how quiet Hollywood was when walking down Franklin

Avenue at 3 AM. It was in that moment Leah found something she had not been looking for.

That night while walking away from Stewart’s apartment in Fran’s brown leather mid-calf laced

up heeled boots, Leah tripped on a crack in the cement, because she was too busy staring at the

sky in wonder. With freshly bloody, scraped hands, Leah picked herself up from the dirty

sidewalk while still staring at the sky. Leah realized she was lost and could not find her car.

Suddenly, it dawned on Leah the symbolism that was occurring: she was more than just lost on a

street. Leah was lost in life. There Leah was, walking in her mother’s shoes making Fran’s same

mistakes, like using a man for sexual validation, turning to alcohol, and surrounding herself with

people so Leah would never be alone. When Leah finally found her car, she did not immediately

get behind the wheel. Leah climbed on the roof of her blue SUV laid back on the cold metal to

stare at the stars for a couple hours. Laying there, Leah thought about what she wanted, who she

was, and who she needed to be. Leah could not make the mistakes Fran made; she had to figure

out a way to learn to love herself, or she would never learn to love anyone. Laying there that

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summer’s night on the hood of the SUV there was a decision made, that Leah would step out

from Fran’s shadow and into her own spotlight in life.

Stewart did not deserve to wallow in Leah’s problems, when he had his own to worry

about. Eventually, Stewart laced up his classic black and white high-top converse. Stewart found

his exit stage left, and two-stepped his way to Texas to take up the trade of bar-owning. Since his

departure, Stewart has talked to Leah once. The two very briefly talked about that mutually dark

time, that they rather forget. Stewart told Leah, “I remember burying my pain inside of you, and

you let me.” That conversation was one sided, and short lived. All Leah wanted was to take away

Stewart’s pain while refusing to feel her own. Stewart’s presence during those pivotal

heartbreaking times helped, he made Leah realize she was not alone in her grief. Leah hears,

Stewart really loves the girl he began dating right after her. They have been together for almost

five years now. Nights with Stewart are a blur but Leah will always remember him being there,

falling down the rabbit hole beside her. Leah would never forget him suffering alongside her; the

memory of Stewart’s truly blue eyes might last forever.

Alcohol and sex did not solve Leah’s problem, they only suppressed them for a later date.

Going through the number of boxes containing home movies and pictures that Fran had kept

locked in a closet under the staircase inside in her house. Leah found lifetimes of memories,

spanning multiple generations. Most of the footage surrounded Fran’s life, and Al’s seemingly

happy childhood. Footage was proof of how much Fran had going for her: beauty, talent, charm,

and a sparkle behind her eyes. Revisiting memories of the charming Fran before her downfall

brought that Leah to the realization that she could easily fall from grace just like Fran did.

Luckily, this had a sobering effect on Leah.

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Chapter 4

The Scenic Route: Upward and Onward

When the time came for the three-month party to be over. Leah came to, reeking of

alcohol, cigarettes, weed, and bad decisions. At that point, her room in a shared house in North

Hollywood had become a storage unit filled with mountains of shoes, and crap from Fran’s

house. Inheriting Fran’s closet was great until reality set in that Leah was living with hundreds of

shoes but she had no fabulous shoe room for the collection. Shoes were under the bed, in the

closet, in the corners, and on the back of the door to a point where it became hard to open the

door more than a crack. Every pair of shoes had a story attached to it, and was s symbol for a

piece of Fran. When looking at Fran’s collection of shoes, two things were noticeable; the

woman had style, and gave meaning to the word eclectic. Leah added Fran’s collection to her

own, the two collections mixed effortlessly like they had belonged to one person from the start. It

was scary to see how two individually personal collections could seamlessly merge, especially

when one belonged to the person Leah feared she might become, Fran.

With fear fueling her next move, Leah laced up her black knee-high boots to hunt down a

purpose. Stomping through the streets of the San Fernando Valley, Leah found herself in line at

Los Angeles Valley College’s dingy admissions office. The office smelled like burnt bagels and

strong coffee. People in line were exhausted by life, so Leah fit right in. A radio in the distance

played Gypsy by Fleetwood Mac. It was time to finally start her life over, which meant enrolling

for college. Standing in line looking at the registration form a line read, “expected graduation

date.” Leah was struck with an overwhelming epiphany that Fran would never see what she

would accomplish. Fran would not be there for Leah’s graduation. Tears formed as Leah handed

the admissions woman the forms; the woman’s indifference was obvious when she took her

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sweet time as Leah was breaking down. Leah kept looking at her boots, or Fran’s previously

owned black boots. Looking at the boots, Leah wondered if it was possible to step out of Fran’s

shadow while still wearing her shoes.

Amongst the crap from Fran’s house that was taking up space was a box with a

handwritten label, “Leah.” Opening that dusty brown banker box, Leah expected a Se7en

situation, a “what’s in the box” moment but what Leah found was much worse. Fran had kept

everything Leah had ever made, drew, or written. It was shocking to her that all of that could fit

into a banker box. Looking at a drawing from decades’ past, it occurred to Leah that parents

must be crazy and they must lie. No one in their right mind would look at crayon scribbled six-

legged green dog with wings and think, “yes this deserves praise, as well to be displayed and

preserved.” A bad parent would trash their kid’s work of “art” because it is utter drivel. Fran kept

things that Leah did not recall making like a purple spiked ashtray. Inside that dusty cardboard

box were all of Leah’s journals filled to the brim with every story she had ever put to paper. It

appeared Fran was sentimental, and it was a shame for it to have only come out after her death.

Fran had never failed about being predictably unpredictable before, so there was no reason why

that should change, even in her death.

One thing stood out in the box was the family in a picture collage with a note attached.

The penciled note was in Fran’s handwriting it said, “You are an exceptional person, and a

person complete in your own right. You must not seek reassurance of any kind, which is not of

your own fastidious standards. It is in your indomitable and singular talent, you must never

compromise for others approval. ALWAYS FOLLOW YOUR OWN STAR!”

Finding validation when there is no closure because of grief was incredibly frustrating for

Leah because there was no way to confirm the validation with the deceased. All she could do is

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take the note for what it is: a piece of advice to consider. Cherished bundles of forgotten books

that Leah had handwritten over the years brought a new side of Fran’s identity to light. She was a

proud mother.

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Chapter 5

In Her Shoes: But Not in Her Footsteps

Behind two French doors once stood a world of wonder for a young girl, a room

dedicated solely to shoes. That room no longer exists. Fran was in terrible debt when she died,

she had filed for $2 million dollars’ worth of bankruptcy, and the bank decided to evict her from

her house to pay her debt. The new owners flipped the house into a place Leah did not recognize;

the shoe room is now a balcony. Though the shoe room no longer exists in the physical sense, the

ideas that brought the room to life remain. Ideas like the possibilities are limitless, Leah can try

anything out just like trying on shoes, and Leah is whomever she decides to be.

Fran would be equal parts proud and disappointed that Leah inherited her shoe room--

proud because, who better to inherit her shoes than her only daughter, Leah and disappointed

because Fran was always territorial over her shoes, and her shoe room. Many nights were spent

sneaking into the shoe room and out with a pair of shoes that Fran had not allowed Leah to

borrow. Leah would wait until the cloak of nightfall, or until Fran passed out from self-

medicating via pills or injection, whichever came first gave Leah enough time to sneak in and

out. Even though there were hundreds of shoes in the shoe room Fran always knew when a pair

was missing.

A decade and half ago there was going to be a typical San Fernando Valley high school

house party during spring break. Blasting through computer speakers was The Beach Boys’

California Girls. Leah was wearing black sleeveless midriff high neck sweater top and low-rise

blue jeans, with her hair pulled up into a tight bun. All that was missing was the perfect pair of

shoes. After digging through the bottom of her shoe-covered closet, Leah realized she had to

borrow from Fran. Only there was one problem, it was only 6 PM, and Fran was wide awake.

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With a pair of shoes in mind, Leah walked into Fran’s room. There was no Fran in sight. Leah

headed left to enter the shoe room. Once inside Leah stood there scanning the shelves for perfect

pair. Target located on the middle corner shelf a pair of white platform ankle strap sandals with

roses embroidered on the sides. By the time Fran found Leah, she already had the sandals on,

strutting back and forth in the shoe room.

Caught in the act, Leah sat on top of the dresser pressed up to the windows and waited for

a reaction. Oh, Fran had something to say, “What do you think you are doing? Do I have to start

locking this room?” Leah swung her feet out towards Fran and said, “You have to admit they

complete the outfit.” An unamused Fran pulled a pair of white and black superstar Adidas from a

shelf in a monotone voice said, “I will allow you to wear these, not those.” In her lifetime, Fran

never let Leah wear a pair of shoes Leah intended to. On rare occasions, Fran would let Leah

borrow a pair of her shoes of her choosing if Leah left a spleen on loan, and on even rarer

occasions she let Leah out of the house without any guff in her shoes.

Growing up a couple feet away from the shoe room. Leah spent countless hours playing

dress up in her mother’s shoes. Little did Leah know that would become a way of life for her.

For two decades were spent rarely seen as the individual person Leah. Instead, Leah was referred

to as Fran’s daughter, or Al’s little sister. When her grandparents would say her name, it was

only after they did the family roll call saying everyone’s name in the family until they got to the

right one, hers. Leah had been living in the shadow of her eccentric mother and brother before

Fran’s death. The week Fran died her oldest friend’s mother said, “You were always meant to

fly. Fran was your cement shoes. Now that she is gone you get to spread your wings.” Leah

resented her friend’s mother for daring to say that to her, because Leah always wanted wings and

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still did not have them. Plus, Leah did not understand what the friend’s mother meant by it

because Leah rarely let Fran and addictions weigh her down.

Biologically, Fran will remain her mother but Leah does not have to physically stand in

Fran’s shadow now that she is gone. Nothing will change where and who Leah comes from but

Leah has the power to change the path she walks. Just because Leah is walking in Fran’s shoes

does not mean Leah should or would follow in her life’s footsteps. There is good in the

unfortunate story of Fran’s absence. The good is that Fran clearly marked the paths to avoid: to

not make the mistakes that her mother Fran so obviously made with drug addiction, with men,

and with herself. Leah knows she will make mistakes but Leah does not have to repeat the

mistake that she has seen others make. More importantly just because Leah is Fran’s daughter

does not make her Fran.

On one cloven hoof of a giraffe, Leah can count all her soul sucking addictions: writing

and weed. Sometimes, Leah ponders if her addictions will get the best of her as Fran’s addictions

got the best of Fran. It is possible that Leah could write herself into a corner, overdose on words,

and let the munchies speak for her. If worse comes to worse, Leah could raid the fridge or get a

hand cramp from writing too much. Sitting at the dark wooden desk at midnight, two of her vices

are present in a bong and her laptop open to a page in word-processing software. The clicking

sound of the laptop’s keyboard sounds like the heel of a shoe hitting a hard surface, like a tiny

Clydesdale horse trotting down an unpaved trail, or a woman well on her way.

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Appendix

Chapter 2 the Real Playlist

1. Elton John - Tiny Dancer 2. The Turtles - So Happy Together 3. The Beatles - Michelle 4. Fleetwood Mac - Landslide 5. Beach Boys - California Girls 6. Don Henley - Heart of the Matter 7. John Denver - Leaving on A Jet Plane 8. The Beatles - Leah am the Walrus 9. Jan and Dean - Little Old Lady from Pasadena 10. The Eagles - Peaceful Easy Feeling 11. Wilson Phillips - Hold on

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Appendix

Photos from the Past

Fran’s Billboard Ad Leah in Fran’s Shoes Leah and Fran

Fran and Leah’s Likiness

The Shoe Room Fran’s Final Resting Place