Kate
The storm
I stood staring up at the steps that led to the light of an open door. I could hear voices. Muffled sounds from within. A staccato rhythm of baritone noise and easy laughter. Up those stairs at the end of that dark corridor, was the woman I once vowed to marry.
The voices grew louder. I could hear the slow thump of bass vibrating off the walls. This was a mistake. I should never have come back. Outside, the air was frigid and hung in clusters surrounding my breath. I shivered, drawing my arms closer, hugging myself for extra layers of warmth. I needed to act. I could not stay grounded on the stoop for much longer.
It was snowing the last time I was in this city. I had sat parked outside a library in my small two-tone Fiesta. It was a car that promised a party but delivered nothing but broken radiators and endless bills. The wipers barely moved that night as the snow became a blizzard.
“Hey Chief, what’cha upto?” came a voice from behind. I looked round to find myself staring into the face of a young woman. She looked familiar but I could not place where I had seen her before. Wrapped tight behind a scarf, her smile lingered as she asked me the question. Caught eavesdropping on strangers, my cheeks flushed with embarrassment. I stuttered out a response.
“Relax,” she replied, “you here for the party?”
I nodded yes. She tilted her head upwards and invited me to follow.
“Get out of the cold,” she said, “and warm up with some red.” She shot me a conspiratorial wink. “You’re not too late, the party hasn’t got started. Did Steve invite you? It’s gonna be a big night!” She emphasized the last two words placing a hand on my arm and smiled.
She reminded me of Kate who would meet me at the library after school. Kate of the auburn hair which always smelled fresh and trimmed with precision. Kate, who would wear a pin on her chest that aligned with her shirt pocket. The bedazzled button would glint in the afternoon sun projecting a catchy tagline like ‘Being dumb is not a smart choice’. Kate and I would stroll to the Palais and order coffees, jet black. She was a no-nonsense kind-of-girl. Kate, who was full of stories about her great Aunt, the widowed dowager. She claimed she had ruled a country full of stout men with bad breath. Kate had a way with stories. Kate, who talked as if the day were about to end and there will be no more time to speak of the fortunes of man. She of the blue eyes that sparkled as her arms stretched and rolled and spun like a dreidel as she wove her tall tales. My Kate, a woman who could spend hours perfecting the art of baking a chocolate cashew cake. She said the smell of roasted cashews with chocolate was a pleasure that could arouse the dead back to life.
The cake
That night, Kate had sent me out into the snowstorm to buy a packet of cashews. She was in an exuberant mood and wanted to celebrate by baking her favourite cake. She was missing that one last essential ingredient. It was clear she had something to say, a secret to whisper. She would only tell me when the mood was right. An idyllic scene where we were both relaxed enjoying her delicate chocolate cashew cake. The short journey to the store gave me time to compose my thoughts. I had met somebody else and wanted to break up with Kate. I wanted to end our relationship. Like a perverse coward, I figured the best time to tell Kate was when she was at her merriest.
The young woman began to ascend the stairs. I watched for a moment before I followed. At the top of the stairs, the doorway opened onto a cramped hallway. A red-carpeted floor lay worn and tattered from over-pacing. The air spoiled from the fragrance of perfume and baby powder. Opposite us was another door where the muffled sounds of a party mingled with the stale air.
“Wait here. I’ll go get Steve,” the young woman said as she disappeared behind the closed door.
I had left Kate that night, behind a closed door, in a bathroom stall, weeping into her cashews. Her alphabetized spice rack had been mishandled. The garam masala wedged between the chicory and the cloves. Chilli flakes lay spread on the dining table like a murder scene in essence and spice.
“What do you mean, you want to break up?”
“It’s over.”
“What is?”
“Us. We’re finished. Through. The end. I’ve met somebody else. I want to be with her.”
“But I’m making a cake. You love my cake.”
“I know. But I love somebody else. I’ve met somebody else.”
“But you can’t go now. Why do you want to go? Why now? I’ve made a cake. I’m baking a cake. You MUST stay. It’ll be cooked soon. You’ll love the cake. You love MY cake. You can’t go. Not now. I’m baking. You can’t do this. You can’t leave.”
“I have to go. She’s waiting for me. It’s…”
“Yes?”
“It’s too late for cake.”
“It’s never too late for fucking cake. Not today. Not now. Not like this. I wanted to tell you…”
“What Kate? It’s over. We’re done. I’ve met somebody else, and we’re finished. It doesn’t matter what you’ve got to tell me. Nothing will change. I’m in love with somebody else. I don’t care what you say, it won’t change a thing.”
Kate stared. A long pause between us as tears began to slowly run down her cheek.
She shoved past me, grabbing the cashews, and stormed out into the night. I did not know why I gave chase. After all those years together, I could not let her go, distraught, fearing she might have an accident. Through the storm, I ran. Into the library and pass the studious onlookers. Down the corridor with bleached walls. Round the shelves labelled Z for Zoology. I crashed into the bathroom stall where Kate sobbed clutching the cashews. And there I left her.
Outside, my party Ford lay beneath a blanket of white. A wing mirror, half-cocked, stuck out defiantly. The storm had become a raging blizzard.
The party
Faint noises leaked from behind the closed door. The sound of glasses clinked and chimed. A party of sorts with laughter and merriment. I needed to calm down. I inhaled deeply, holding my breath, and began to count to five. One Mississippi…Two Mississippi…Three Missis…The door opened to the sound of laughter. A crowd of people in groups stood around the room engrossed in conversation. Soft music played in the background. It was the perfect soundtrack to the warm vibes that echoed from within. The young woman greeted me at the door, holding it open as she beckoned me inside.
“Come in, come in. Can’t have you standing out there catching a cold. I couldn’t find Steve but he’s here somewhere.” She spoke with conviction. I could see her clearly now in the light. She had auburn hair and sparkling blue eyes. There was a hint of mischief on her smile which reminded me of Kate. She was almost the spitting image of the woman I had left behind all those years ago.
“I thought that was you when I saw you walk through that door. What are you doing here Jim? What do you want?” Kate had come over from across the room. She looked divine. The years had been kind and she still glowed with that quiet intensity I had always loved.
“Oh Mum — have you two met before?” the young woman asked. “I thought he was Steve’s guest.” She looked, with curiosity, from one face to another. Kate continued to stare at me.
Above us hung a sign that read ‘Happy Birthday Dad’ in Comic Sans for added hilarity.
“Problem here Kate?” asked a man hovering close to Kate’s side. His mane of blonde hair flopped indulgently over his face as he flicked it to one side. On his chest was a pin that neatly aligned with his shirt pocket. It was bedazzled and read ‘Birthday Boy’ in ten-point utilitarian characters. An institutionalized Ariel that had as much charm as the man that stood before me. I took an instant dislike to Steve despite his ruggedly handsome allure.
“No honey, this man has the wrong address,” replied Kate as she turned and pecked Steve on the cheek. “You go back to the party, I’ll help this man out,” continued Kate as she pushed me out of the door.
“Hannah?”
“Yes Mum?”
“Can you get me another drink…I’ll be back in a minute. Thanks Hon.” We both stood outside in the compact hallway.
“You were supposed to meet me next week. Why did you come here tonight?”
“I couldn’t wait. When you left a message, it…it sounded urgent. I thought…”
“What? You thought what? No. Fuck it. It doesn’t matter. This was a mistake. I shouldn’t have called. I was having a moment. It doesn’t matter now. You need to go Jim.”
“I’ve missed you, Kate. All those years…”
“Go now Jim. This isn’t happening. Not now. Not ever.”
“But Kate, you called me. What is it? There hasn’t been a day gone by that I haven’t regretted what happened. We should never have broken up. I’m sorry. I really am. I didn’t mean…I didn’t mean…”
“It doesn’t matter, does it? It doesn’t matter what you meant to do years ago and it sure as fuck doesn’t matter what you mean to do now. You need to leave. I’m sorry for calling you. It was a mistake. I’m happily married. I loved you once Jim, but not now. Not here. Please leave. I’m sorry I called you.”
“But it must have been something, right? You don’t JUST DM someone after twenty years asking to meet and then go blow them off the moment they show up. That’s not fair. What did you want to tell me? Is it Hannah? Is that it? Is she mine? Am I her real father?”
“Fair? D’you want to talk about what’s fair? You broke up with ME! You left me all alone to cope…when I was…when I was…with… Look, I’m sorry. I thought…I thought for a moment that maybe, you know…marriage is hard. We fight. We make up. We love each other. I wanted to feel wanted. It was a moment. Nothing more. And now you need to go. This was a mistake. I’m sorry. I really am.”
“Wait. When you were what? I left when you were what?”
“Go Jim. Just go.”
With that, Kate opened the door and reached inside. Momentarily the party slipped out. The raucous noise slicing through the tension. The spell of the past shattered once and for all.
“Before you leave,” Kate said, “you should take something for the ride home.” She handed me a small packet and slammed the door shut.
Outside the storm continued to rage. I stood there, on the stoop, staring into the night as the snow hurled itself ferociously into my face. In my hand was Kate’s parting gift, a crumpled bag of cashews and I began to sob.
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What a strong opening paragraph 👌