They Left Me Twice, I Stopped Following Chapter 07

They Left Me Twice, I Stopped Following Chapter 07

In December, the first snow fell over New England.

The school disbursed the winter need-based stipend.

Eight hundred dollars.

The day the funds cleared, I went to a local outlet and bought a pair of insulated winter boots.

The cheapest pair on clearance, sixty-nine dollars.

I tried them on twice.

The soles were thick, and my toes could finally stretch out comfortably inside.

The clerk asked, “Do they fit?”

I lowered my head and stomped on the ground

“They fit.”

On the bus back, I kept staring down at the toe of my boots.

In my past life, I was always reluctant to replace my shoes in the winter.

Because Grandma took a long time to make a pair, and I was terrified of ruining them.

Later, when those shoes grew too small, I curled my toes inside and still claimed they fit fine.

Turns out I didn’t have to wait for someone else to prepare things for me.

Some gaps, once you patch them up yourself, can feel plenty warm.

I folded the purchase receipt neatly and tucked it into my wallet.

This was the first time I bought winter for myself.

I liked it a lot.

When I returned to the dorm that day, I washed my old canvas sneakers clean.

The torn sole had been stitched over three times.

The threads were dense and messy.

I couldn’t bring myself to throw them away.

The following afternoon, the dorm supervisor mentioned I had a package.

A large cardboard box.

The sender was Grandma Rose.

I carried it back to my room.

Inside were dried sweet potatoes, peanuts, and a pair of hand-stitched crimson wool booties.

My movements halted.

I recognized those booties.

Grandma spent half a month stitching them.

I had picked out the little flowers on the fabric myself.

Now, a small patch of red cloth on the left toe was scraped off, and the soles were already blackened.

My mind flashed back to that video call.

It was on Chloe’s foot.

At the very bottom of the box lay a scrap of paper.

Grandma’s handwriting was crooked and uneven.

[Chloe thought they looked tacky and refused to wear them.]

[Didn’t you always like them? Grandma will mail them to you..]

I squatted in front of the box, unmoving for a long time.

My roommate leaned over to look.

“These are so cute! Did your grandma make them for you?”

I nodded. “Yeah.”

“Why aren’t you wearing them?”

I touched the surface of the shoe.

The stitches were still tight and neat.

When I was little, Grandma always measured my feet in advance.

She said children’s feet grew fast, so shoes needed to leave a finger’s width of space.

I used to think that as long as it was something Grandma stitched for me line by line, it would be mine forever.

The next day, I dropped the crimson booties into the campus donation bin.

The volunteer pulled them out to inspect them.

“These look almost new.”

“You don’t want them anymore?”

My hand lingered on the edge of the bin for a second.

“I don’t.”

The booties hit the bottom with a soft thud.

I didn’t reach in to pull them back out.

That night, Grandma called.

“Did you get the shoes?”

“I got them.”

“Do they fit?”

I looked down at the new boots on my feet.

“I didn’t try them on.”

Grandma went silent for a moment.

“Sienna, are you still mad at Grandma?”

I retied my loose shoelace, pulling it tight.

“I’m not mad.”

It was the truth.

In the past, I got angry because I still wanted to ask her why she didn’t give them to me first.

Why she promised to see me, only to go to Chloe instead.

Now, I didn’t care to ask anymore.

There was no sound from the other end for a long time.

Suddenly, Chloe shouted in the distance:

“Grandma, I can’t find my socks!”

Grandma answered almost instantly.

“Coming!”

Then she hurriedly said to me, “Sienna, Grandma has to…”

“Go ahead.”

I spoke first.

The line disconnected quickly.

The screen went dark.

I sat on the edge of the bed and tied my shoelaces into a fresh, firm knot.

The next morning when I stepped outside, a thin layer of snow had accumulated on the ground.

I stepped onto it.

My new boots were warm and completely windproof.

By the time I reached the academic building, my feet were still completely dry.

I glanced down at them.

Some things I could buy for myself.