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Tuesday August 20, 1996
Give me hunger,
But leave me a little love,
-Carl Sandburg
Tonight Simon and I are going cruising. He finally saved enough to pay for the insurance on his Jeep so tonight's his night to celebrate. We're gonna pick up Troy and Brian and drive around downtown, wasting gas. It seems pretty pointless to me but I don't have the heart to tell him this. I guess he figures it will be some big male bonding experience. Who knows.
I've only known Simon a few weeks. We met through Troy. Turns out we both golf at the same golf club. He's pretty good but he doesn't put as much time into it as I do. So far we've golfed together almost every afternoon since we met. It's cool having someone halfway decent to play against. Troy sucks and Brian doesn't take it seriously.
Simon has a twin sister named Kate. She's incredible. Sometimes I feel guilty, like I'm using Simon to get to his sister. But it's not as though I don't enjoy hanging out with him. I guess it's just an added bonus that his sister's extraordinary.
Kate has shaved black hair and icy blue eyes so pale they're almost clear. Trust me, I've had a lot of time to study them. Something about her is so completely different from any girl I've ever met, I can't help but love her. Love being a relative term, of course.
She's got this really cool attitude like she doesn't exactly care how other people see her but not in that store-bought, Seventeen magazine, Shannen Doherty's-doing-it-so-I-should-too way that a lot of other girls do. Hers is genuine, kind of like the way a little kid won't make a conscious effort to impress someone. In fact, there's a lot about Kate that's child-like. I don't know if it's the child-like part of her personality that I love (love being a relative term) or what. I hope not. That idea kind of makes me feel like a pedophile.
I told Simon I'd meet him at his house at seven, so I'm on my way now. I want to get there early so I can maybe spend some time with Kate before we go. Even if it's just five or ten minutes, it'll be worth it. Any time with Kate is time well spent.
No one answers the door when I knock so I just walk in. Kate and Simon live in a great house. It's really open and spacious, with lots of windows and skylights. It almost appears as though the entire house is made of glass. I guess their parents really like the outdoors.
Turns out that they live really close to me, on the court behind mine to be exact. So close that I can see their rooftop from my bedroom window. If I was in my backyard and they were in theirs we could have a conversation easily. I really like this situation. It's kind of reassuring to know that Kate's just a few steps away.
I wander through their house calling out their names periodically. I stop to look at all the pictures of Kate when she was younger. She was not a beautiful baby and an even less beautiful child. She's not smiling in any of the pictures. I've seen all these pictures before but they still fascinate me. How did the unhappy little girl with unruly black hair and knobby knees in those pictures turn into the fabulous girl I know? Change is a remarkable thing.
I wander out the sliding doors to the backyard because that's where Kate is. She's sitting on a patio chair sculpting something out of clay.
"Hello there," I call to her.
"Hi, Emil." She smiles up at me. She holds out her sculpture, "What do you think?"
It doesn't look like much of anything to me, just a great big lump that she's smoothed over with her thumbs.
"Look's great," I say, sitting beside her.
"Simon's in the shower," she continues, beaming at me, "You're early."
"Am I?" I say in mock surprise, "I hadn't realized."
"That's okay," she shrugs, "You can hang out with me. Keep me company, y'know?"
"Sure," I reply, agreeably.
She giggles, "Do you want a drink?" She points to her cup.
"Sure," I say again, "What're you having?"
"Wine," she giggles again, "I like to have a glass or two in the evenings. Helps me relax."
She giggles a little louder, leading me to believe that she's had more than a glass or two. She grabs her nearly empty plastic cup and heads inside. I follow.
"Have a seat," she offers, opening the fridge and pulling out a half-empty bottle of wine. I sit.
"Simon says you guys are going cruising in the Jeep," she says, conversationally, "I tried to tag along but he said no. He said it was a guy thing."
"Maybe I could ask him," I offer. An entire night with Kate. Is there a God?
She shakes her head, "Don't bother. I made plans."
I wonder if she has a date. She's never mentioned seeing anyone but who knows? I wish I could ask her.
I watch her pour wine into a plastic cup identical to hers. She fills it right to the top and then adds more to her cup. I watch her take a swig right from the bottle. She puts the bottle, uncorked, back into the fridge and contemplates picking up my cup.
She frowns at it, considering, and finally she smiles. She slurps some, takes a moment to scrutinize it and then slurps some more. She brings the cup to me, smiling brightly.
"There you go," she giggles.
I smile back and take a small sip from the cup, trying to place my lips exactly where hers had been. Since she isn't wearing lipstick, this is no easy task.
"My parents are having a barbecue tomorrow night," she says, "Are you gonna come?"
"Sure." I nod. Anything to see Kate.
She beams, "Good."
She's so exciting. So happy and pleasant to be around. It's like, no matter what it's like outside, she's sunshine.
Simon finally comes bouncing down the stairs, "You're early," he tells me.
"Emil came early so he could keep me company," Kate points out, "He thinks Mrs. Stowitz from next door is a vampire too, don't you Emil?"
I shrug, "Sure."
Simon frowns, "She's not a vampire, she's a werewolf. Anyone can see that."
I watch them debate. I love this about them, the way they talk about ridiculous, nonsensical stuff but make it seem of the utmost importance.
"Whichever," Simon shrugs it off, "We gotta get out of here. Mom and Dad'll be home around ten."
"Doesn't matter," Kate replies, "I'm going out."
She drains the rest of her cup and waits for me to do the same. I oblige, cringing all the way. Wine is death.
"You're drunk," Simon says to her, not at all surprised.
"Am not," Kate counters, "Emil says he's coming for some barbecue tomorrow, right Emil?"
"Sure," I say again, wishing I could think of something else to say.
"Cool," Simon says, "Let's go."
We make our way to the front door. Kate follows.
"Thank you for hanging out," Kate says to me, "See you tomorrow, right?"
"Right," I concur.
Simon kisses her on the cheek. Guess they're really close. Wish I could do the same.
After hours of cruising, we finally decide to call it a night. I have convinced Simon to take me to his house. I told him I want to borrow his Zamfir c.d. I'm inadvertently hoping that Kate will be home and still awake. She seemed so receptive earlier, like she was genuinely glad I came over early and like she really wants me to come by tomorrow.
When we get there, Simon's dad calls us into the den.
"Hi boys," he greets us. Simon's dad is nothing like his dark twins. He's blonde and fair and really tall. I liked him the first time I met him.
"Simon, I can't get this program to work," he continues, looking blankly at the computer screen, "Could you explain it one more time?"
Simon rolls his eyes so only I can see, "The c.d.'s in my room, Emil. On the desk. Help yourself."
I tread upstairs feeling a little apprehensive and expectant because Kate's probably up here. I walk silently down the hall and slow down as I near her bedroom. The door is open.
She's sitting cross-legged on the bed, in the dark, facing the wall. Her room is lined with clay sculptures. She even holds one in her hands, loosely, as if she's forgotten it's there.
"Hello there!" I poke my head in and greet her cheerfully.
She slowly turns to look at me, frowning. She pauses for a moment, "What are you doing here?" she asks.
My smile fades, "Just saying hello," I reply.
She's silent for a moment, watching me with the oddest expression on her face.
Finally she turns back to the wall, "Go home, Emil," she says.
I don't reply. What are you supposed to say to that? I just grab the c.d. and leave. I don't even like Zamfir.
At home now, I sit in front of my open bedroom window and look at her rooftop. I'm more than a little confused. What happened? She seemed like she liked me earlier. Why did she brush me off like that? Did I do something?
I sit in my boxers and a T-shirt, enjoying the cool night air. I gaze at her backyard. What had I done wrong? It startles me to find that I have such intense feelings for her. I was sure she felt it too. She has to feel something, doesn't she? Doesn't she?
And there she is, stealing through her backyard, wearing a transparent night-shirt. It has no sleeves and just barely covers her nudity. Something inside me is stirring. This is the most of her body I've ever seen and she is beautiful.
She creeps into my backyard, hopping the fence and showing me she is not only bra-less but panty-less as well. She tip-toes to stand right below my window.
"Hi, Emil," she whispers up to me, completely serious.
"Hello there," I say, politely.
We stare at each other for many painful moments.
"I'm sorry," she says, breaking away from my stare, "Really."
"What happened to you tonight?" I ask her.
She glances back in the direction of her backyard before answering, "Sometimes I get depressed," she replies.
She looks up at me and the wind blows playfully at her night shirt, "I guess I should have told you sooner."
I don't reply, I just stare at her.
"What do you get depressed about?"
She shakes her head, "I don't know."
I have nothing left to say to her. A few more moments go by.
"Will you come down here?" she asks.
"It's late," I hesitate.
"Will you anyway?" she asks, "Please, Emil?"
I sigh, resignedly.
Once outside, we sit and dangle our feet in the pool.
"When I was first ill, no one seemed to notice," she starts, "I was screaming inside, y'know? I was hurting and hoping someone would just do something."
She pauses and tests the water with her fingertips, "Maybe I would have told them to mind their own business, but I don't think so. I think I would have said Thank God."
It amazes me how much I love this girl. I barely know her, have only met her on a few occasions. I am entirely conscious that this is the closest we've ever been. I've never touched her, held her hand, cupped her elbow or smelled her hair. Yet I want to save her and make her pain my pain so she'll never hurt again. Does she sense this? Has she any idea?
She grabs hold of the edge of the pool and slips into the water. I slip in beside her. We swim in slow solemn circles around the outer edge. She's a very graceful swimmer. I hold the edge and watch her tread water for a while. Finally she pulls herself out. I do too.
She stands in front of me with her hands at her side. Whatever the nightshirt had attempted to hide before is brazenly obvious now. I can see everything and everything I see is beautiful. She doesn't say anything, she just lets me stare at her. This is the most intimate moment we've shared.
Eventually, she turns and heads toward her backyard.
"See you at the barbecue," she tosses casually over her shoulder.
On my way to the barbecue now and feeling stupid. My mom's forced me to bring a Jell-O mold. Does anyone really like Jell-O molds, with the small slices of fruit suspended in gelatin perfection? I never have, so I doubt it.
I'm arriving at the barbecue late, hoping Kate will wait impatiently for my arrival. Now that I'm here I see she's not so I guess my plan has failed. I start to eat.
A half hour passes and then another; still no Kate. Simon informs me she's out but she'll be here later. On another date, I wonder? Who knows. I sit and listen to Doc Jones from down the road talk endlessly about golf, while inconspicuously watching the sliding doors for her to appear.
I'm finishing my fifth hot dog when Simon tells me Kate's finally home and points out she's watching from her bedroom window. I see her waving frantically at Mrs. Stowitz. She looks very animated. Finally, she settles her gaze on all of us.
"Hi guys!" She calls to us, beaming happily.
"Hi Kate!" Brian calls back to her, grinning. I think he has a thing for her too.
"Kate, today I got a personal best out on the course," Simon tells her, "I even beat Emil!"
She chuckles, "That's great, Si."
Her eyes settle on me and she smiles, "Hi Emil."
"Hello there," I reply.
"Are there corns down there, Emil?" she calls.
I frown, and check the table, wondering why she calls them corns and not corn on the cob like everyone else, "Yes!"
"Great!" She beams at me but she makes no move to come down.
Doc Jones is calling me over so I have to leave my perch below her window. But when I look back, she's still there, waving and smiling. It seems as though she has no intention of coming down. Another hour passes with her sitting at the window watching the party, with her chin cupped in her palms and resting her elbows on the window ledge. I decide to escape.
I use the bathroom as an excuse and sneak up to her room. I gawk at the many sculptures in her room. They're really good! I had no idea she was so talented.
"Hi," I say.
She doesn't reply, she just moves over so I can sit to. I watch her carefully.
"You're crying," I tell her.
She absently wipes a tear away and goes to sit on her bed. I sit beside her.
"You're afraid your father will catch us up here," I say.
"I don't care," she replies.
We sit in silence, while tears spill down her face.
"What do you need me to do?" I ask her.
She looks at me unhappily, "Just hold me, I guess."
So that's what I do.
Exactly four days have passed and I haven't heard from Simon or Kate. Very uncharacteristic. I don't know if I should call or just wait. Maybe they went out of town. But Simon would have told me, wouldn't he? I'm sick of watching their rooftop and waiting for Kate to sneak over for another moonlit swim. Maybe this is her way of telling me that she doesn't want to know me any longer. Maybe I should just take the hint.
I've barely slept. This not knowing is killing me. I dial the number and wait impatiently.
"Kate's not here," Simon tells me, "My parents took her to the hospital."
"She's sick?" I ask, alarmed. Why didn't he tell me sooner?
"She's been sick a long time," Simon confirms, "She's been very unhappy. My parents think the hospital will make her better. She hates it."
"When will she be back?" I ask him.
"I don't know, Emil," he replies, sighing, "Soon, I guess."
"What's wrong with her?"
"She's been very unhappy," he repeats, "Sometimes it's more than she can take. She tried to kill herself Tuesday night." His voice is devoid of all emotion.
"Can I see her?" I ask.
"No," he replies, "She's asked about you. Says you should keep an eye on Mrs. Stowitz. There's no telling what she might do, after all."
"Think she'll be home tomorrow?"
"Maybe," Simon replies.
"Tell her I'll wait," I say, "I'll be here when she gets back."
"All right, Emil," Simon says and we hang up.
Kate gave me one of her sculptures the day of the barbecue. It's of a girl sitting cross-legged with her head in her hands and her shoulders hunched. I pick it up and appreciate the cold, smooth heaviness of it in my hands. I go to my window and sit; I stare at her rooftop and wait.
Sitting in my window wearing my favorite blue jeans and no shirt. The night air is humid and my hair is damp already so I push my fingers through it. Can't tell if it's the humidity or my own nervousness that's making it damp. Kate comes home today.
She was in the hospital a month and a week exactly, which surprisingly is a long time to wait for someone. I never saw her, and Simon was no help. He never talked about her. I overheard my parents talking about it, that's how I found out she was coming home today.
It's probably stupid of me to wait, after all it's unlikely that she'll be able to sneak over tonight. But I can't sleep, I'm much too wired and I've nothing better to do so I may as well. Staring at her rooftop is amazingly relaxing.
Finally, here she comes, wearing a plain tank top and the briefest cotton shorts. I have to smile in remembrance of our last rendezvous like this. She's let her hair grow back into a short, spiky crew cut and lost even more weight. Somehow her eyes seem even more blue, even here in the dark.
She tiptoes carefully and purposefully to a position below my window.
"Hi, Emil," she smiles tentatively up at me.
"Hello there, Kate," I reply.
"I got home today," she continues.
"I know," I tell her.
An awkward silence fills the space. Is there nothing left to say? I rack my brain.
"I don't know why I'm here," she goes on, looking away, "I wasn't even sure you'd be waiting up..?
I watch her tug apprehensively at her spiky locks and I shiver with the anticipation of seeing her up close, "Where else would I be?" I ask.
She smiles openly at me and giggles a little.
"Be down in a sec," I tell her.
We sit in the patio chairs this time because she says she doesn't feel like swimming. She shows me her toenails, which she's painted peach. Now they sparkle. I ask her about the hospital.
"It was hell on earth," she rolls her eyes, "They just couldn't get it that I don't eat meat. And everyone wears these starched white lab coats and speaks in hushed tones. It was quiet enough to drive anyone crazy."
I nod.
"They gave me these pills." She looks away, ashamed, "Lithium or something. They're supposed to help with my mood swings but all they ever do is make me want to sleep," she contemplates it a second, "Sleep or have sex. Whichever."
Is that a hint?
"Anyways," she continues, "They're like the size of golfs balls and they taste like dirt. I hate taking them."
"So don't," I tell her.
She scoffs, "Great advice, Emil. Don't you want me to get better?"
I consider it a second, "Well, what do you want Kate?" I ask her.
She looks at me surprised and a little shocked. Then she smiles as she thinks about it, "I want to sit in the grass in my backyard and sculpt."
"So do that then," I tell her, studying her sparkling peach toes. I feel her eyes on me so I sneak a look at her.
She smiles at me and then she starts to laugh. She laughs so much I have to shush her before she wakes up my parents.
"You're the first person who's asked me that Emil," she tells me. And then she kisses me. Our first kiss. Her lips taste like rain and her nose is cold. Even though it's short, it seems like forever. I have to wonder, could this be any more perfect?
I guess I've finally found a way to make her not hurt so much.
"Can we go inside?" she whispers to me. She doesn't take my hand or run her fingers through my hair, but from the look in her eyes I can tell. That's a big hint.
"Okay," I say and we both sneak up to my room.
Nothing happens. Once inside she spends most of the night marveling over my obsession with photography.
"Did you really take all these pictures, Emil?" she asks me, picking one up. The way she studies them so closely make me nervous.
"Yeah, um, that's a really old one," I say, frowning uneasily, "I haven't taken any in a long time."
Am I making excuses in case she doesn't like them? Probably. Having her here in my room is so foreign and unnatural and it's making me very uneasy. My parents don't even come in here anymore so having her here, touching my stuff, seems all the more strange. I want her out.
"Don't lie," she tells me, putting the picture down, "I'll bet you took pictures tonight even. Didn't you?" She watches me carefully when I don't answer, "Didn't you, Emil?"
"Yeah, I guess I did," I finally reply hesitating just a little, "I guess you wanna see?"
"I guess I do," she replies, giggling at me, "Is that okay? If I see, I mean?"
I nod decisively and lead the way into the closet that I've converted into a darkroom.
"There they are," I say nervously, pointing to the photos hanging to dry.
I watch her study them and I flinch with every one of her facial twitches. They're all the same shot, about six altogether. I wonder if she'll get it, I wonder will she know?
She turns to me frowning, "You took pictures of a rooftop?" she asks, unbelievingly.
My heart is crushed; she doesn't get it at all. I search for an excuse, "It just reminds me of something."
"Of what?" She scoffs at me, sarcastically. She heads back into my room and I follow. Now I really want her out.
"That's so excellent that you take pictures though, very artsy, like something you'd talk about in a coffee house or something." I watch her touch everything, "My uncle takes pictures too. One time he photographed the rain and everyone laughed. He never did that again." she goes on as I watch her, "I thought it was kinda cool in a way, I mean, rain is nature and nature's supposed to be beautiful, right? Hey!"
She strides over to the window and picks up the sculpture she gave me at the barbecue from its place on the window sill, "You kept it! I never really thought you would. I made this two years ago, see, the year's on the bottom." She beams at me and turns back to the window, "That's so excellent that you kept it, Emil, I-"
She stops short and stands in silence for a moment. I watch her wearily, wanting her out, still stinging from her sarcasm. Finally, she turns to me and the look on her face scares me.
"You took pictures of a rooftop," she says, slowly, "My rooftop."
I watch her carefully, still scared for her reaction, "I guess I did."
She's flustered, "I didn't know, didn't recognize. I thought it was just another...Emil, you didn't say..."
I shrug, "Didn't think you'd get it." I'm brutally honest.
She turns back to the window, "That's what it reminds you of. Me." She says it thoughtfully.
"I guess I just missed you, Kate." I'm going out on a limb.
She nods. Suddenly I don't want her to leave anymore. Somehow now she seems to fit into my room. I've never felt as close to anyone before.
She turns towards me and smiles happily, "Hey, Emil, you could take pictures of me, couldn't you? You could make them all artsy, like take a picture of my hands or of the freckle on my ankle, y'know? Or..." her eyes become rounder and she beams even wider, "I could take a picture of you! I need one!"
I cringe and shake my head, "I hate posing," I say, "Besides which, I'm not photogenic."
She frowns, disappointed, "But I need a picture of you. What if I forget what your smile looks like? If I had a picture then I could just look at it."
I pick up my phone bill and a pen. On the back I draw a lopsided half moon, "There." I hand it to her, "A picture of my smile."
She studies it and nods, "Now I won't forget," she tells me.
"Right," I agree.
"Maybe we could sleep now?" she suggests, "I'm tired."
I nod. She sits on my bed as I pull off my jeans. She pulls off her tank top, so that we're both wearing shorts, I guess. She curls into a ball on one side of the bed and I curl around her. We lay unmoving for an eternity. I want to kiss her neck or rub her shoulder but I can't. That type of stuff isn't me. Or Kate. Ultimately, she turns over towards me and we watch each other.
I'm too incredibly nervous. I've never done this before, I don't know how to be. I'll bet she already has and she's disappointed in me. I'll bet she knows exactly what to do.
"I'm not...I mean, I've never..." she stammers. She considers it a second, "I'm glad you took pictures of my rooftop, Emil," she finally whispers.
"Okay," I say and we kiss.
Sex for the first time is not what I expected. It goes so fast, there's barely time enough for anything. And before you know it, it's over. I wonder is it like that for everyone? I guess Kate was overwhelmed because she's letting me hold her. Finally, she wiggles from my arms to lie on her stomach, propped up on her elbows and pull feathers from my pillow. I lay on my back and stare at the ceiling.
She's not saying anything but I have to know, "Kate, how did you do it? I mean, what did you do to have to go to the hospital?" I ask.
She seems taken off guard that I would ask. She sighs and finally replies, "I-took some pills and I cut my wrists."
She pauses to show me the scars that I hadn't noticed before. They're really faint.
She turns away, ashamed, "And I sat in the car with the garage door closed. Simon found me."
We sit in silence again. I consider what she's said.
"It just hurt so much, y'know?" she tells me and she's crying although her voice doesn't waver, "I just wanted it to go away. I just wanted peace for a space, y'know?"
"Do you still want that?" I ask her, trying not to sound alarmed or afraid although I am both.
"Yes," she admits and I can feel her eyes on me, "But I kinda feel like I have peace right now, y'know?" She starts to giggle, "If I'd known sex could do that I'd have had it long ago!"
We both giggle and I roll over to face her. She glances at my alarm clock and I know what's coming.
"I guess I'd better go," she says to me.
I prop my head up on my hand, "You could stay," I suggest, "We could do it again."
A little greedy perhaps?
She giggles at me, "Yeah, I could," she agrees.
The second time is a lot different. It takes longer and this time she lets me kiss her all over and watch. This time her face changes and she holds my hand like it should be. Afterwards, she lets me hold her but I fall asleep.
A typically male move I guess.
When I wake up she's gone. She's left a note at least:
took the I check the clock and see it's already noon. I notice a piece of paper propped up on my desk. It has five bumps coloured peach and outlined in black marker drawn on it:
I prop it back up on my desk and go downstairs.
My parents are in the kitchen, sitting at the table like they've been waiting for me. I'm usually really happy in the morning (or noon, as the case may be); my mom says it's my one saving grace. But something about the way they're watching me puts me in a lousy mood. I lean up against the counter and wait.
"Emil, we talked to Simon's parents this morning," my dad starts, tentatively. He looks at my mom, hoping she'll help him out.
My mom glowers at me, "Simon's dad says Kate wasn't in her bed when he went to check on her last night. He thinks she came here." She narrows her eyes, "Did she?"
"Why doesn't he just ask her?" I retort.
"She's been completely unresponsive," my mom continues, "Emil, I don't know how much you know about Kate-"
"Plenty," I interrupt, "I know plenty about her."
"Did she spend the night here, Emil?" my mom asks, although from the look on her face I can tell she already knows.
"You don't have to answer," my dad says, I guess because he doesn't really want to know.
"She's not mentally stable, Emil," my mom goes on, "It's called BiPolar Disorder. She's got a neurological imbalance. She'll probably have to take antidepressants for the rest of her life."
She sounds so clinical. I just want to kill her.
"Her father didn't go into many details," my mom says, "Regardless, Kate has been put on a strict regiment and obviously late night trips to your bedroom aren't part of it."
My father looks like he will die of shear embarrassment if my mother implies any more. I want to say something to put them both at ease but I cannot think of one thing. How do you justify it anyway?
My mom clears her throat with finality, "We've all decided that it would be in Kate's best interest if you didn't see her again."
I do a double take, "You've all decided?" I contemplate whether I should just let it go or if I should make some smart ass remark. I remember something Kate once told me: when in doubt, go with the smart ass, "No, Mom, I think you decided that one all on your own, didn't you?"
"Her father seemed to think it was no big deal, seemed he was glad she'd found someone to confide in. I think that's ridiculous, after all she's got a therapist for that. You're life is complicated enough without having to counsel some neurotic psychologically unstable girl." Her voice softens maybe an eighth of a notch, "You can't help her, Emil. So whatever it is that you've started, this is where it ends. Just because her life is messed up right now doesn't mean yours has to be too."
I fight the almost uncontrollable urge to defend myself. There would be no point. My mom's not exactly the type of person you can argue with once she's made up her mind.
I look at my dad, "Fine. So is that it then?"
He looks at me helplessly, like he wants to help but can't. Finally, he nods, "Yeah, that's it."
"Fine," I say again, "I'm going out." I head towards the door.
"Where are you going?" my mom asks.
"Out," I reply.
"You're not going to go see her are you?" she calls after me.
"No. I'm not going to do that," I reply and slam the door. Sarcastic, sure, but at seventeen what else is there?
I walk around the block twice before I go to her house. I almost expect my mom to be there waiting to drag me back home, but she's not. I go into the backyard because that's where Kate is. Risky, considering my parents could probably see us from the kitchen window if they just looked hard enough. I don't care though. Kate's worth the risk this one last time.
She's sitting in the grass, sculpting something out of clay. She's wearing cutoffs and a white tank top. Her hair is wet. So beautiful.
I drop a kiss on the top of her head, "Hello there."
She beams at me as I sit across from her, "Everyone went for ice cream but I can't eat it. It gives me a headache. So I'm just sculpting, y'know like I said."
I nod.
"Simon says he may have people in tonight, just to hang out and stuff." she goes on, "My mom's excited 'cause now she has an excuse to make Rice Krispie squares. I mean, Rice Krispie Squares, like what grade was that? He doesn't have the heart to tell her though. He's sweet like that."
My heart is breaking, watching her babble so animatedly.
"Anyways, we might go swimming or watch a movie, y'know nothing much. Will you come?" she asks.
I search for an appropriate reply and when none comes she narrows her eyes at me, "What's going on, Emil?"
Looking for the right words proves hopeless so I just plunge ahead, "We can't see each other any more. My mom doesn't want me seeing you."
We sit in silence while she digests that.
"Well," she begins, "What do you want?"
"I wanna do what's right for you," I reply.
"Well," she says again, smiling happily, "It's settled then."
"No, Katie, you don't understand," I explain, "I cannot see you anymore. I'm not even supposed to be here now."
"Well," she begins, annoyed, "If you want to do what's right for me-"
"Katie, I just can't," I interrupt, "It's just too much, y'know? I can't do it."
There's an unbearably long pause where she doesn't even look at me.
"So, I guess it's settled then," she finally says again. She drops the sculpture and stands up, "You know, Emil, I can't help what I am. It's not like I asked to be like this."
"I know it," I reply.
"I mean, that's what made us so great, that was the whole point." Tears stream down her face but her voice remains clear and unwavering, "You didn't try to help me, you never once tried to solve my problem. It was never about Katie's illness, no one ever mentioned Katie's insanity."
"You're not insane," I tell her, my tears spilling over as well, "You're not crazy."
"Then why are you leaving me."
It's more of a statement then a question. And she doesn't wait for a reply. She just turns on her heel and runs back into the house. I don't stop her although something nags at me and tells me I've done the wrong thing. I don't care though, it's already over.
I leave the clay sculpture there and walk back home.
"Here's some money if you wanna rent a movie or something tonight." My father says as he presses a ten dollar bill into my palm, "Here's some more if you wanna get pizza or something." He gives me another twenty.
I take his pity money without comment. If paying me off will make him feel less guilty for not standing up to my mom then who am I to argue?
My mom breezes into the den reeking of some expensive perfume, "We'd better go or we'll be late," she tells my dad, "You'll be all right, won't you Emil?"
I don't respond, I just stare at the TV, determined to ignore her.
"Well, if your aunt calls, just tell her we're on our way," she goes on, oblivious to my unresponsiveness, "We'll be back around one."
Just go already.
They finally turn to go and I sneak a look at them both. Not a care in the world, it's like nothing's happened. My dad throws a sheepish look over his shoulder, asking with his eyes for me to forgive him or something. I ignore it and look away. He's not worth the effort.
At long last they leave. As soon as the front door clicks shut I bolt up to my room to change into a pair of black jeans and a blue golf shirt. I end up throwing on a baseball cap because combing my hair proves futile.
I sneak through the backyard to Simon's house.
Simon doesn't answer the bell so I just walk in again. I wander down the hall to the den because that's where everyone is.
Simon grins at me when I come in, "Hey, Emil, I was beginning to think you weren't coming."
I shrug and smile, "Here I am," I say.
Troy and Brian are there, along with some other kids from school. There are some people I don't recognize too and Simon doesn't bother to introduce me. No Kate. No one mentions her, so I guess she went out or something. On a date? The idea tears me apart.
"My mom's gonna harass you with Tang and Rice Krispie squares so take some and humour her, okay?" Simon warns me.
"Oh, stop it, Si," Vanessa, a girl in my trig class interrupts, "You make it sound so bad."
"I think it's very sweet of her," I contribute.
Vanessa's smile broadens and she tips me a wink. I quickly look away. Is she flirting with me?
"We rented Interview with the Vampire but so far Vanessa's the only one who hasn't seen it," Brian tells me, "Have you?"
I shake my head and Simon laughs, "But you probably read the book, didn't you Emil?" he asks.
"Well, let's start it," Vanessa suggests and then she turns to me, "Here's a spot." She points to the ground directly in front of her chair.
I stare at her wide-eyed for a moment, "I'm just gonna go to the bathroom first," I say and make a quick exit.
I steer clear of the kitchen where Simon's mom is cutting up a new batch of the squares and wander to the laundry room. On top of the washing machine is Kate's favourite T-shirt, and on the floor is a pair of her jeans. I know this because they're covered in clay. I escape out the laundry room door to the backyard because that's where Kate is.
She's sitting on the step, wearing a pale blue dress and sipping from an orange plastic cup. There's a bottle of wine at her feet as well as a mauve coloured candle in a big glass jar. I sit alongside her.
She gulps the wine, "Didn't think you'd come," she tells me.
"Didn't think I'd come either," I reply.
She offers the cup the to me but I refuse, "You're drunk," I tell her.
"Yeah," she agrees.
"What does your mom think?" I ask, picking up the nearly empty bottle of wine.
She scoffs, "She thinks it's great, like I'm French or something. They drink wine with every meal, y'know."
"Do you think that's such a good idea?" I ask, "I mean, to drink while you're on medication?"
I am saying all the wrong things, why can't I just shut up? This is no way to get her back; this will only drive her further away.
"I stopped taking the pills," she replies, not the least bit annoyed, "They weren't helping and they tasted so bad."
We sit in silence for a full two minutes straight. I rack my brain for something to say to her.
"You'd better go inside. They'll start to miss you," she tells me.
I don't reply and I don't leave. I just can't let it end like this; I have to do something to stop it.
"Did you hear me?" she asks and I nod. Without a word, I rise. I stare down at her and wait.
"Y'know, sometimes it hurts so much and all I can do is sit and wait for it to end. You don't know what it's like, to hurt like that," she tells me. She takes a generous swig from the wine bottle and sighs, "I didn't know I could cry in my sleep, but I can. Thanks a lot."
She reconsiders, "But then I guess everyone needs a holiday."
She's drunk, like close to passing out and that's why her talk makes no sense. Her feet are dirty and the polish on her toes has started to chip. There's a smudge on her arm that I hadn't noticed before and it's all I can do not to wipe it away.
I realize now that I can't fix her problem. I can't make her stop hurting after all, not even for a little while. And I don't want to. I just want to be with her.
"What should I do, Katie?" I ask her, my voice just barely a whisper.
She stares at me a long time before she answers, "You can't hold me," she sighs, "No one can."
"Could you hold me then?"
This is the most I've ever asked her, or anybody, for that matter. It's a lot to ask, I know. But I'm tired of always doing the right thing and worrying about everyone else. I'm sick of always being too strong.
"Yes," she replies and that's what she does.
The next morning Simon invites me over for a swim but when I get there he's washing the Jeep.
He's using the hose to rinse off the wheels, "Grab a sponge," he tells me.
"Maybe I could go see Kate..." I suggest.
He looks up at me for a moment and then goes back to rinsing, "Kate's sick."
"Sick?" I repeat, "But she was fine last night."
He shrugs, "Today's different," he says.
"Well, maybe I could just say hi," I offer, desperately wanting to see her, "Is she contagious or something?"
He drops the hose and straightens up, "She's just sick is all. Needs some time. You can understand."
"But-"
"Emil," he interrupts me. He doesn't look angry or annoyed. Just fed up with the whole situation, "Just leave her alone."
He squints at me in the morning sun. I know I should do what he says, after all, I was his friend long before I was Kate's boyfriend. And he probably knows a lot more about her being sick then I ever will. But I just can't do it.
Without a word I turn and walk into the house.
I poke my head in her door, "Hello there, Kate," I say, cheerfully.
Her room is untidy and muggy although the window is wide open. It seems to me as though there are twice as many sculptures lining the walls as there was the last time I was here.
Kate sits at the window, wearing her fuzzy red robe. She turns and looks at me, vacantly, "Emil," she says, as though she's saying my name for the first time, "I'm really not feeling well today, Emil."
I nod but come in anyway, "What's wrong with you?" I ask.
I go to stand behind her, "You can't be that sick if you're out of bed," I rationalize.
She rubs her temples like she has a monstrous headache, "Really, Emil, today's just not a good day."
I watch her take a swig right from a bottle of wine, "What are you doing?" I ask her. How can she drink now?
"Riding the cyclone," she replies, taking a larger swallow.
"Yeah?" I ask, taking the bottle away from her, "It's nine a.m."
"Yeah," she snatches the bottle back, "But I haven't slept in days."
I sit down beside her before saying anything more. I can tell she's annoyed with my presence and she just wants me to go but I have to ask, "What's going on, Kate?"
She shrugs, tepid, "It just hurts more than usual today, all right?" She takes another swallow of wine, "No big deal."
"And wine helps?" I ask, ignorantly.
"It relaxes me," she confirms, "I get all these crazy, racing thoughts...y'know, a second's action could end everything."
I study her a minute longer. The peach toe nail polish has completely chipped off and her hair is a spiky halo framing her head, "I think you should go back on the pills," I tell her.
She throws the empty bottle onto the floor, "I think you should just go," she says, placing her head in her hands.
"Maybe you're right," I reply, rising and making my way to the door.
"Emil," she calls out to me.
When I turn in the doorway she's still facing the window, her head turned slightly to the right, "Y'know, my depression is the most faithful lover I have ever known," she turns to face me, "So it's no wonder why I return the love."
She turns back towards the window. I don't reply, I just turn and leave.
Later that night and for the first time in a long time I don't sit at my window. I don't expect her to come tonight and I don't really want her to. I awfully forebode that my mother was right. I can't help her. So what am I doing?
And yet there she is throwing rocks at my window. The screen's in so they just bounce back to the ground, but she appears not to notice.
I go to the window, remove the screen and wait.
"Hi Emil," she says, timidly.
I don't reply, I just wait.
"Painted my toes again," she tells me, "Pink. I like it better then the peach."
She raises her foot about an inch off the ground, "Will you come down and see?" she asks.
I shake my head, "Not tonight," I reply.
"Well, maybe tomorrow then...?" she suggests, expectantly.
"I won't be here tomorrow," I tell her, miserably, "I'm going to stay with my aunt in the mid-west. My parents just sprang it on me this afternoon."
She stares at me, completely shocked and speechless for a few moments, "For the entire summer?" she says when she finally finds her voice.
I shake my head, "A week," I reply, "Maybe two."
This does nothing to relieve her. She tries one more time, "Can I come up?"
"Kate-" I say, exasperated.
"I know," she replies, defeated.
"You always shut me out and then want me there again," I tell her, "Why don't you just take the pills?"
She looks at me despairingly, "What if they make me into a totally different person?" she asks, "What if I'm not Kate any longer?"
"Who told you that?" I demand because I know she didn't think of that herself.
"Simon." She admits it.
I consider it, "If you had a headache you'd take aspirin. If you had a sore throat you'd take antibiotics," I tell her, "You're sick, Kate. Your brain is sick. Fix it."
She's started to cry, "It's not that simple," she explains, tearfully, "You don't know what it's like-"
"So do something," I tell her, quietly, "Stop being the victim."
This is the end of our conversation. I put the screen back in and ignore it when she throws more rocks. Finally, she leaves. And about three hours later I fall asleep.
I stayed at my aunt's house for two and a half weeks exactly. I figure my mom found out that I was seeing Kate behind her back and that's why she sent me there in the first place. It was punishment enough, but has no bearing on modifying my behavior. I want to see Kate all the more now, cannot wait to see her, and have been counting the hours until I see her, so what did my mother manage to accomplish after all?
I don't bother to unpack or even to tell my parents where I'm going, I just leave. I wonder if she's changed at all since I saw her last. When I think about the way we left things, it tortures me. At the front door, I ring the bell and wait impatiently for someone to answer.
"Emil." Simon says my name like he's surprised to see me there. His eyes are red-rimmed and expressionless, "When did you get back?"
"Today," I reply, overly cheerful despite his languidness, "How've you been?"
He doesn't answer, he just opens the door wider so I can come in. I follow him down the hall to the kitchen and we both sit at the table. The house is eerie somehow; too quiet and too gloomy, even though it's made mostly of windows. For the first time since I've known him Simon lights a cigarette.
"Kate's asleep upstairs," he starts.
"Asleep? Is she okay?" I ask, afraid for his reply.
"About a week and a half ago-I thought you'd already know by now-" He won't look directly at me.
I already know, "She did it, didn't she?" I say.
He nods and his eyes have taken on that vacant, expressionless look again, "No one could help her, no one could hold her. I tried too hard...do you know what it's like?"
He lapses into silence and I can't say anything. He's biting his bottom lip, "I found her in the backyard and I brought her in here. She started the medication again right after," he goes on, "Now she seems fine, y'know, really cheerful all the time. It's just hard to get used to. Do you know what it's like?"
He places his head in his arms on the table, "All my life it was always about Kate. If Kate was sick then so was I. If she was fine, I was fine. I always took care of her," he tells me through his arms, "So what now? Who am I now without Kate's illness?"
The house is uneasily quiet. Simon doesn't cry or sob or scream or anything. I am numb with shock.
My mom burned the picture of Kate's peach toes. She told me the day I left for my aunt's. She didn't destroy the sculpture, probably 'cause she didn't know Kate made it.
"It's like when that part of her died, so did I," he concludes.
Simon says nothing more so I stay with him. I stay with him and the two of us sit and wait an eternity for it to get better while my Kate sleeps upstairs.
O you gods that sit and give
The world it orders.
Give me hunger, pain and want;
Shut me out with shame and failure
From your doors of gold and fame
Give me your shabbiest, weariest hunger.
A voice to speak to me in the day's end
A hand to touch me in the dark room
Breaking the long loneliness.
In the dusk of day-shapes
Blurring the sunset,
One little wandering, western star
Thrust out from the changing shores of shadow.
Let me go to the window,
Watch there the day-shapes of dusk,
And wait and know the coming
Of a little love.
picture of my rooftop,
i hope that's okay. If
you're gonna be around
why don't you stop by
later? if not
i'll talk to you tomorrow,
kate
you a likeness of my
new toes. i figure
that's a fair trade.
k
Copyright 2000 Halima Thompson
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