Lifelines: Kate's Story by Vanessa Grant

She’d gone dancing so many times over the winter, romance returned now
Kate wasn’t under their feet all the time. Things got even better when Evelyn
fell sick in January. Han took her illness seriously, and she made him see how
much the stress of Kate’s constant energy harmed her health.
    He
began keeping Kate on the job site after school, and even picked up dinner on
the way home. Evelyn made sure he knew how much she appreciated it, and he kept
it up into the summer. Such a wonderful spring, warm and sun-filled. Han acted
like the lover she’d once fantasized him to be.
    Until
Kate ruined everything.
    Evelyn
glared through the window for long seconds after the sound of Kate’s car faded.
She reached for the back of the sofa, balanced on it, then transferred her
steadying hand to the corridor wall.
    Surely,
after all these years it would be impossible for Kate to find Han. He’d bounced
around the world like a yo-yo, California to Brazil to Indonesia to Alaska. So
romantic, she said when he got the job in Venezuela. They never stayed anywhere
long enough for it to get old. She loved the life, and Han was the best part.
    Evelyn
braced against the doorway to the spare room. After Han sent them away from
Anchorage, this was Kate’s room until she went to university. The week after
her daughter left, Evelyn hired a neighbor to pack Kate’s possessions in boxes
and paint over the too-bright wallpaper. She decorated this room as a sewing
room, although she never took out the sewing machine once the decorating was
complete.
    She
threaded her way through boxes, using a hand here, a hand there to balance.
Kate said Evelyn needed a cane, but she wasn’t ready to look like some old cripple.
    The
box she sought stood in the corner. She found the photo album and hugged it to
her chest as she carried it back to the kitchen, balancing herself with box,
doorway, wall, and kitchen stove. She laid the album on the table, then
shuffled to the counter where she plugged in the electric kettle. She heard its
noise almost at once; it hadn’t been long since Kate made coffee.
    She
used counter and chair to balance back to the table, picked up the now-cold cup
of coffee Kate made her, carried it to the counter and carefully dumped it down
the drain. Then she spooned instant coffee in, and since no one could see,
three teaspoons of sugar and two of coffee whitener. When the kettle boiled,
she stirred the mix and carried it to the fridge. She set the timer on the
table for five minutes, by which time the coffee would be the perfect
temperature.
    She
adjusted her chair to the right distance from the table, lit a cigarette and
placed it precisely in the ashtray. Then she carefully opened the album.
    Her
wedding day. Han had been so handsome and she looked good, too, slender and
brunette. They stood locked in each other’s arms outside the Seattle church,
creases from the sun crinkling the skin around his eyes as he stared at her
with adoration.
    She
felt tears leak down her cheeks. So unfair. Once, he’d loved her, until Kate
destroyed their marriage with a careless accident ...
    His
letters waited at the back of the album, but she turned each page slowly and
delayed contact with the letters by clinging to the memories trapped in old
pictures. Evelyn and Han dancing, New Year’s night in Jakarta. She turned the
page and stared at Han holding a big fish he’d caught in Alaska. She’d refused
to cook it and he’d wrapped it in foil and baked it himself. Next page:
pictures of Kate with a hammer in her hand. On the right side, Han outside the
Anchorage house, a big grin on his handsome face as he showed off the new
snowmobile, no sign of Kate in the picture.
    She
turned the page, but as always, the pictures ended here. She should have taken
more that last year, hadn’t known the end was so near. The back of the album
now, the envelopes wedged into the place where the paper stuck together.
    She
pulled out the first letter. Blurred