by Sue Seabury
Queenie gave her the once over. Kat’s lungs weren’t working right. It wasn’t possible that Queenie knew she was currently doing math, trying to figure out how to scrape together enough money to get back down here ASAP. Kat inhaled so she could say casually, “When I get home, I’m going back to work.”
Queenie’s nostrils could flare quite wide. “Seriously?”
“Well, doyou have some big plans? I was planning on going for a hike in a rainforest today, then eating some wild ice cream, followed maybe by another massage, but that’s all shot to hell.” Actually saying the word “hell” rather than h-e double hockey sticks gave Kat a bit of a shock, in a good way.
Queenie patted her shoulder. “Lemonade from lemons. I’m planning on stickin’ around Miami for a while, unless the stupid storm is gonna screw things up there too.” She pursed her heavily glossed lips. “Stan’s got a condo there.”
An image of Hugo battening down the hatches in gale force winds popped into Kat’s mind. She felt ill. She forced herself to say, “Nice.”
“Then, who knows? Maybe I’ll head up to Vancouver. Hangin’ out with you is really making me miss my gal Molly. And if she’s busy, maybe I’ll come visit you.” Queenie gave her a crooked grin. “Newark, right?”
“Princeton. Here’s my number.” Kat hoped she would call. If nothing else, Queenie had taught her the value of being true to herself.
Their flight was called. While Josie and Pete kept up the lovey-dovey whispering through the first hour, Kat’s mind looped through the scenes of Hugo’s first kiss in her room when she cut her foot, then the hot ‘n heavy five minutes on his office floor, then back to when they first met when she fainted at reception and he held her ankles so gently . . .
Pete said something about a “safe investment.” It hit Kat with the force of a hurricane that she liked Hugo precisely because he wasn’t a “safe” choice. Because she’d already tried that and sacrificing everything to practicality wasn’t the route to happiness.
First, she’d objected to his working at a resort, thinking that meant he was flighty and unstable. She was proved wrong about that one pretty quickly.
Next, she’d imagined his youth would make him fickle, or at least not ready for a serious relationship, but he’d proved her wrong with Gianna.
She’d also thought that with a constant stream of women at his disposal, he’d be a player or worse, but he’d only had one serious relationship so far, just like her. And his ethics seemed stronger than hers.
How prejudiced she’d been against foreign culture she’d been when she first arrived at The Retreat, but it hadn’t taken her long to realize that people were the same everywhere, and the differences only added spice.
There still remained one real barrier: the distance between New Jersey and Puerto Rico. That was a problem she didn’t have an answer for.
34
Now that she knew what she wanted, it was out of reach.
Misery was useful in one way: she was so wrapped up in despondent thoughts, the flight to Miami went fast, and their connecting flight to Philadelphia was scheduled to depart in thirty short minutes. Kat pulled herself out of her funk long enough to give Queenie a quick hug. She also managed to shake hands with the Cigarbellies without feeling repulsed. With their flabby stomachs covered by neat clothing and no cigar screwed into the corner of their mouths, they was almost bearable. After some friendly waves and false promises about meeting up with the PTAs at The Retreat sometime in the future, she, Josie, and Pete ran for their flight.
A nap saved her most of the second round of giggles and whispers. After the drink service and a longer than necessary discussion of Reasons Why Pete Should Come To Princeton, they landed.
Following a few heart-stopping moments at baggage claim during which Josie thought her makeup case had gone missing, Pete conducted them to his silver Jaguar. No matter how shiny, Kat didn’t feel the faintest twinge of jealousy.
“The trunk’s kinda small though.” His proud smile was marred with consternation.
So was the backseat, but Kat didn’t say anything.
“Let me use my amazing powers of spacial understanding to see what I can do,” Pete said. He barely fit half their things in the trunk and the lid wouldn’t shut even then.
“You’d never make it as a chauffeur,” Josie teased.
“Good thing I’m a financial planner then, hey?”
“Let me have a go,” Kat said.
The discomfort in her side from a sharp suitcase corner was a pleasure compared to the hole in her heart where thoughts of Hugo lay.
The ride took even less than thirty minutes, so intent was Pete on showing them “what his baby could do.” The State Police must have been on vacation too. Somehow they arrived in one piece and without getting a ticket.
Walking up the steps to her apartment complex felt like a dream. She hoped to wake up and find herself back in Puerto Rico.
No such luck.
It was a nice enough fall day for late October. Not too cold, blue sky with only a few clouds, but many leaves had turned brown and fallen since she left the week before. Her apartment smelled stale. She left her bags by the door, sat on her saggy couch with its awful floral slip cover, and retrieved her phone. Carver shocked her once again by answering.
“Hey!” she said. “It’s me!”
“I know. Are you okay? The TV said Puerto Rico’s right in Hurricane Valerie’s path.”
Kat’s breath caught; she clutched at her throat for the missing locket, but now it didn’t seem to matter as much. She had the real thing; a symbol didn’t matter. “What I meant to say was, I’m home. The nice resort owner made some calls, so we got out, no problem.”
“Oh.” To anyone else, the quiet syllable would have sounded disappointed but Kat knew it was relief. Her darling son cared about her well-being. It worked like a balm on her heart. So many people never got to experience such love. She shouldn’t need more to feel complete.
But she did. Greed was a deadly sin for good reason.
“Hey,” Carver said. “I’m glad you called.”
“Me, too.” Kat beam at the phone.
“Yeah, I’m going to the shore with some friends for fall break. Don’t want you to worry that I won’t be home. I mean, coming to your apartment.”
“Oh.” Her smile faded.
“Also, Jimmy, my roommate, you know, he invited me to his place down in D.C. for Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, but Carver, our first Thanksgiving. . .” Not as a family. She couldn’t blame him for wanting to be elsewhere, but still.
“His dad’s a lobbyist,” Carver continued. “Said he might be able to get me an internship in his office next summer. Maybe even a short one over Christmas too.”
Now she was losing Christmas with him too?
Kat took a deep breath. She would never stand in the way of his trying to get a real job. “Of course you should go. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity.” She picked up Carver’s black Pittsburg Penguins hoodie she’d turned into a pillow after he outgrew it. He’d wanted to get rid of all his hockey paraphernalia, but Kat had kept this one thing. He used it as a bolster when he lounged on the couch to watch TV and it still smelled like him, boy-salty mixed with that sugary hair gel he used. She inhaled deeply. “When will I get to see you?”
“I’ll stop by one of these weekends. I’ll need clean clothes and money before I go to D.C.”
Kat laughed. “At least you’re honest.”
“Teasing, sort of. I’ll stop by one day and surprise you.”
Kat’s heart swelled to bursting. “I love you.”
“You, too. Glad you’re home safe. Have a good time?”
Tears welled up. “The best. Can’t wait to go back.”
“Take me with you. I wanna go surfing.”
“If I can swing it financially, we’ll do it. Or maybeyou’llbuyme a trip with this awesome lobbyist job you’re going to land.”
“Mom, it’s just an interns
hip.”
“Don’t be afraid to dream big. Maybe you’ll wow them so much, some bigwig’ll offer to pay for the rest of your college.”
“Now you’re talking crazy.”
Kat heard mumbled voices in the background on Carver’s end. He said, “Lemme go.”
“’Kay. Call me whenever. Love you.”
“Got it.”
He didn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his friends. She choked back the tears and whispered her goodbye.
Things with Hugo weren’t definitely over. All she had to do was fly back.
Unless the hurricane destroyed the island first.
That kind of thinking wouldn’t help. She needed a distraction and almost called Dominique to tell her she could take her usual Sunday shift, but then she heard Queenie’s voice clear from Miami yelling at her to get a life. Now that Silvertime was replacing her with some electronic gadget, she should work and save up as much as possible, but she didn’t want to. She watched the storm progression on the news instead. Like Carver said, it was headed straight for Puerto Rico.
She called the resort. An automated voice told her the number was unavailable. Horrible images of Hugo battling the elements filled her mind as tears coursed freely down her cheeks. She passed out on the couch that night with the weather channel on.
*
The phone woke her the next morning. She pounced on it.
“Hello?”
“Katherine. I’m glad to know you’re back safely.”
Kat vowed to never answer her phone again without checking the caller ID. “Hello, Darren.”
“I was very worried about you.”
Kat lay back down on the couch. “Thanks. But how do you know I’m back?”
“Carver.”
Kat shut her eyes and thought about this. “He called you this morning?”
Darren cleared his throat. His nervous tic. “I asked him to call when he heard anything.”
That sounded almost . . . thoughtful. “Well, thanks for checking up on me. I’m fine.”
Darren cleared his throat again. “Katherine, I think you should come home.”
Kat’s brain wasn’t yet fully awake. “I am home.”
The throat again. “Tothis home. Our home.”
The silence on the line was like a physical presence. Eventually Kat said, “Cyndy probably wouldn’t like it.”
“It isn’t any of Cyndy’s business.”
“So you . . .” Kat’s mouth was completely dry. She swallowed hard.
“We were never anything. It was all in your imagination. I was very . . . alone when you left. I admit, I allowed her over more than I should have.”
“Allowed or invited?”
Darren’s throat clearing was more of an ominous rumble this time. “Fine. Invited.”
There was another long pause on the line. Kat savored his discomfiture, and waited to hear if an apology might be next.
“Anyway. It was a mistake. She’s very . . . opinionated. We’ve barely said hello in a month. Now, will you come?”
Kat let her head flop back on the cushions. So, Cyndy was no good because she refused to stay under his thumb. “Darren, I have news for you. I may not always know what I want, but I do know one thing. I am done being a servant. Yours or anyone’s. Goodbye.”
“Katherine—”
Kat hung up. This time, she wasn’t shaking.
35
She flicked on the TV. Puerto Rico was getting pounded. Trees strewn like massacred bodies, flooding, boats being tossed about like toys in a bathtub.
Praying while dialing, she got the same electronic message from Hugo’s number. She dug through her things and pulled out the tiny cowrie shell. Some people used these shells to tell the future. She squeezed it until her hand ached.
Worrying about Hugo was making her physically ill. She washed her face, then went to collect Mrs. Robinson.
Helen’s big, grey eyes peeked through the slight crack of the opened door. “I thought you weren’t back until Tuesday.”
“We got evacuated.”
They went through the required conversation about how devastating it had to be for the locals, and what a shame it was to have her vacation cut short. Kat wasn’t looking forward to having to repeat it, especially the bit about what her favorite part was.
“So, thank you so much for keeping Mrs. Robinson.”
Kat moved to walk inside.
Helen blocked the way. “The thing is.” Her big, grey eyes were hollow.
“Did something happen?”
“No. He’s fine.” The words came out in a rush. “It’s just. . .” Helen rubbed her hands together like a mad scientist.
“What is it? Just tell me.”
Helen’s lips quivered. “You’d better come in.”
Kat took a few tentative steps forward. There sat Mrs. Robinson, king of the land on Helen’s couch. It was as if he knew how beautifully his orange stripes contrasted with the dark green paisley cover. Kat exhaled the breath she hadn’t realized she was holding.
“Have a seat,” Helen offered. She looked like she was about to confess to murder.
Kat perched on the edge of a hard-backed wooden chair while Helen sat with Mrs. Robinson who immediately climbed into her lap. Kat felt a bit miffed. He never did that with her.
Helen stroked him from head to tail several times in silence. Kat was starting to wonder if Helen had forgotten she was there.
Finally, a grim-lipped Helen spoke. “Mrs. Robinson ate Tweety. I let him out of the cage, just for a few minutes, you know, let him stretch his wings so he complains less, and he got him.”
A little laugh of relief escaped Kat’s mouth. She covered it, a second too late. “I’m so sorry. I just, I don’t know, your face, I thought it was going to be something catastrophic. I mean, of course, that is terrible for you. I mean, how awful. Of course I will replace him. Not that he can be replaced. I know how much you loved Tweety.”
Helen stroked Mrs. Robinson some more. Kat could hear the purring from across the room.
“It’s nice of you to offer,” Helen said. “But the thing is, I don’t want another bird. He was messy, and loud. Wasn’t he?” Helen nuzzled Mrs. Robinson’s chin with her nose.
Without thinking, Kat said, “Helen, would you like to keep Mrs. Robinson?”
The only sound in the room was the tick of Helen’s little shepherdess cuckoo clock and Mrs. Robinson purring.
Helen shut her eyes. Kat rushed to say, “Forgive me. I— forget I even said anything.”
Helen looked aggrieved.
Time to go. Kat rose and started across the room. Helen wrapped protective hands around Mrs. Robinson.
Kat stood in the middle of green braided rug, feeling like she was on a lifeboat adrift at sea.
“I know your son is very attached,” Helen said. “He’d be welcome to visit any time.”
Kat blinked. Helen wasn’t insulted. Sheliked the offer.
“That’ll work out fine,” Kat said. “Carver’s busy with school and internships now anyway.”
“By the way, I renamed him Bob. He seems to respond to it better.”
*
Kat returned to her empty apartment, her sagging couch, the cheap IKEA kitchen set, and the fifteen-year-old TV. Now she didn’t even have a cat to keep her company for Thanksgiving and Christmas.
That part was okay. The cat never liked her much anyway. She sat on a wobbly kitchen chair. The ones at the Retreat were so much more comfortable. She’d have to do more thinking about balancing frugality and having some comfort in her life.
She called Josie and got voicemail. Something told her the way things were going with Pete, Josie wasn’t going to be much of a backup for the holidays either.
Her thoughts returned to Hugo. She had to get out. She went for a brisk walk, then did her entire yoga and Pilates routine twice. She tried to read a magazine, but couldn’t concentrate. The weather news was the same, and worse, Miami was also in line to
get hit.
She called Queenie and got voicemail. “What’s the point of having a phone if you don’t answer?” she yelled at the empty apartment.
That’s when it hit her. She could move to Puerto Rico. Nothing was holding her here anymore, not even the cat. She would save up her money and go. The way Carver was acting, she’d probably see himmore if she moved to a surfing beach even though it was a thousand miles away.
She’d have to find out about immigration laws, if there were any. Wasn’t Puerto Rico pretty much just another state?
Hugo said he wouldn’t date staff, but she could get a job somewhere else. Or maybe she could become his partner. She was different than Ramsey. They agreed on how to do things. She didn’t have much in the way of savings, but she was willing to contribute what she had to help pay off Hugo’s loan.
She could handle logistics, make the website more visible, come up with new program ideas like the solitary retreats, boot camp, cooking, and language classes. She’d hit the library tomorrow and pick up some Spanish language CDs. But right now, she needed to find out the rules about moving there.
Booting up her old PC, the jingling tones of TV weather report recalled her attention to the reality of the storm.
The news about the devastation to the island was worse. There might not be an island for her to moveto. Some of it had to be media hype. If only Hugo would answer his phone. She should have asked for his cell number.
She allowed herself fifteen minutes of tears, then changed her mind about waiting to go to the library. Sitting around the apartment with nothing to occupy her mind but stress about the storm was making her crazy. Hugo was all right.
He had to be.
36
Her car just barely turned over; yet another reason to move.
She borrowed a Berlitz CD and a DVD geared toward kids because that’s all they had available. She fell asleep listening to the CD, dreaming of things shegusta-ed.
Monday morning, she checked in with the weather news then did two more Spanish lessons. When she couldn’t take any more storm recaps and wasMe llamo Katherine-ed out, she called into work, just to reassure Dominique she hadn’t come to harm.
