Saving Katie Baker

by H. Mattern

  Katie considered the idea of just giving in. It would definitely be easier. Less embarrassing. But then she wondered if she gave in right now, whether or not it would end up being harder in the end to get her daughter to be the kind young woman that she hoped Micah would turn into. There she went again, letting her mind run ahead and out of her current reality. Micah had started the battle, so Katie intended to see it through.

  “If you don’t want to eat your breakfast, that’s fine, we can just save it for you for when you do get hungry, but you are not going to get oatmeal. This will be your lunch. You will not get to eat anything else until you eat your eggs.”

  The little girl looked disappointed. She grabbed a piece of the crispy meat and chomped down. Katie was glad that for now, this battle was over. She had won.

  If only she could figure out the secret to coming out victorious from the bigger battle that loomed ahead of them. There was much to do. So many things, and they would never fit on a piece of paper. Katie was unsure where to even begin cleaning up the mess that had become her life. She saw Blake look at her with questions on his face. She sighed.

  With her head hung down she felt the need to apologize for the tantrum. “It’s my fault. I’ve been cooking her oatmeal ever since she was a baby. It’s what she’s used to.”

  There was so much that Katie didn’t know about Blake. She sat trying to eat her food but he watched her like a hawk, as if editing her every move.

  Katie dawdled about with her food, moving it around on the plate and playing with it, just like a kid, avoiding the unappealing pieces. Each bite felt like torture slowly sliding down her throat. A strip of bacon was about all Katie could manage to get down. She didn’t want to offend Blake for barely touching her eggs but she couldn’t stomach anything else.

  Katie pushed her plate inches away once she was satisfied she’d made a dent and sipped her water, very aware that Blake continued to keep his eyes on her.

  “Want some coffee?” Blake asked her.

  “That would be great,” she replied. “I could use some coffee.”

  Blake placed a yellow cup with a dragon on the front of it in her hands. “I’m sorry I don’t have any creamer for you, I usually just drink it black. There is milk in the fridge though, if you want some.”

  Katie shook her head. “This is fine,” she said and grabbed the hot beverage. “Thanks,” she said with a forced smile.

  Katie looked at the cup. How could it be that this house stood, practically untouched and my house, just across the street lay tattered? She let the coffee warm her hands and took a sip of the dark roast. It was comforting. It was bitter. She usually drank her coffee with sugar and cream but the bitterness that lingered was welcoming. It seemed to fit this specific scene in which she seemed to be living.

  “I want to go back over to the house today,” she said to Blake in a mater-of-fact tone after swallowing another warm sip. “I want to see what I can try to save. Maybe there are a few things still intact.”

  Blake looked baffled at her suggestion and unsure how to respond. “How about I go over there today and gather a few items for you that look untouched while you rest here with Micah? Remember, you lost a lot of blood yesterday. Even though you want to fix everything right now, I think you should stay and regain your energy before you attempt to work.”

  Katie thought about this for a moment and although she felt as though she could totally handle it, she knew this wasn’t a bad suggestion. Blake could go over and get a gage on things, prepare her for the load ahead. The idea of taking Micah over with her—there were just too many dangerous things for her to get hurt on—it made sense for them to stay and rest while he went over; at least for now.

  “I guess that sounds good.” Katie picked up her plate, still full of eggs and a strip of bacon. “Where’s your garbage?”

  Blake stood up and said, “You barely touched your food. Are you sure you don’t want me to fix you anything else? Oatmeal?”

  “No, that’s alright. I’m not very hungry. I’m usually not a breakfast person, anyways.”

  “You need to eat, Katie. You need fuel for energy, especially if you want to start picking up the pieces. Do you understand? How about we save this for you for later. Besides, it may be a while before we can make it out to the store.”

  Katie found herself growing irritated at him. How could he expect her to eat if she wasn’t hungry? There was no use arguing with him though, she just wanted him to hurry up and see what he could find from her house so she simply said, “I understand,” and scraped her plate into the gallon Ziploc that Blake held out to her knowing full well that she wouldn’t be touching the food. What a hypocrite I am, she thought remembering the battle with her daughter.

  Blake took her plate and scraped the bits that remained stuck on the edges into the garbage that he kept hidden in the pantry. Katie watched him and wondered if he was one of those people who couldn’t stand for his garbage to be exposed, thus it got hidden away behind closed doors. High maintenance, she thought to herself.

  “So, who do you think we should try calling about the road? Well . . . about all the mess in general,” Katie asked Blake, as if he should know the answer.

  “I think the best thing for us to do is to just wait it out. The clean up crews usually head over to help out as soon as they can, once the other main roads are clear. We can try the cell again later, maybe contact your insurance company.”

  “I just hate waiting around. Don’t you think the fire department would come out and clear the roads for us?”

  “Listen, if this tornado did this to our houses, just think of what it’s done to others. Actually, lets check the news and see what’s going on,” Blake said as he walked to the flat screen that was bolted to the wall in the living room.

  How could this silly television sit untouched on his wall and yet Katie’s whole home was destroyed? Katie looked over at Blake, guilt seemed written across his face as if, once again, he could hear the ramblings in her head.

  Blake’s house was the one that the big bad wolf wasn’t able to knock over. Katie felt very much like one of the three little pigs, yet it didn’t matter how strong her house had been built, it still would have gotten knocked down. That’s how her life went. It was never a fair game.

  Katie walked over to Blake as he flipped through the channels until they came upon a station that worked. The view was one that both of them least expected.

  “I can’t find anybody,” one woman wept as she was wrapped in the arms of another woman’s embrace. Behind them was what appeared to be the scene of a war zone. Demolished. Wood was everywhere. What was once loved belongings now looked like trash. Everything was dark. The scrolling message on the bottom of the screen read: TORNADO LEAVES 26 DEAD.

  Katie was taken aback. She walked over to Blake and sat down next to him. Her little girl was cradled in her arms. Blake sat starring at the screen while another man was speaking to the reporter, “I was lost walking through my own neighborhood. There are houses down everywhere.”

  “It’s going to be a long time before things are back to normal again, Katie.” Blake said with tears surfacing in his eyes.

  “Life hasn’t been normal for me in two years,” replied Katie as she stood up and walked with her daughter back down the hall to Blake’s room, where it appeared they would be remaining for another day—at least.

  Blake continued to sit with his eyes glued to the screen, captivated, overwhelmed. They were calling it a massive EF-4 tornado. The victims were many, and the devastation was great. Grocery stores where he shopped, motorcycle shops . . . they were all gone. Cars were sitting upside down atop rubble.

  He sat staring and instantly felt the desire to send out prayers. He wasn’t sure what Katie’s beliefs were. Hell, he wasn’t even sure what his own were, but he knew that the only way the
y were going to get through this was by some miracle. So that’s what he asked for: he asked the universe to bring them a miracle.

  After he sent his request out into the world, he stood up, picked up the debris that had fallen in his living room, grabbed his untouched coffee along with the bag of garbage, and walked out the door to see what he could find from Katie’s belongings that might bring her some form of comfort.

  CHAPTER

  6

  There was an uncanny chill in the air that surrounded Blake as he walked across the street. It was a feeling that he couldn’t quite describe. It wasn’t cold, technically, it was supposed to be spring here in Phil Campbell, but often Alabama weather had a hard time making up it’s mind on whether or not April should be Spring or Winter. The wind was blowing all around him; the clouds were grey and angry looking—like they were preparing for another attack.

  He shivered, noting goose bumps that had just made their way to his arms. Blake debated whether or not he should turn back to grab a sweatshirt, but he decided against it. He didn’t want to go back inside the house and face Katie without some type of positive news for her.

  Blake’s heart was heavy, full of compassion for this new family that had become a part of his life. He couldn’t help but think about them. Even though he wouldn’t wish this horrible situation on anyone, he did feel a bit of relief to not be going through this tragedy alone. He dreamt about them in his sleep last night. He wondered how he could best help them? He thought of all Katie and Micah lost, not just the loss surrounding the storm, but surrounding everything. How far do they still have to go before healing takes place? It was going to be a very long road—for them all.

  He remembered a verse from his childhood days in church about loving your neighbor. It seemed so easy to understand when he had first heard of it. But now, actually living it out in action was a completely different matter. This loving, it sounded so simple but in the scheme of things, it felt so impossible. He actually had a neighbor that needed his help. He remembered voicing his feelings during a religious conversation with some of his old church friends that love was his religion now. What did this really mean? Once again, he pondered the irony in all things.

  “How do you love someone that is so . . . resistant like Katie?” He said out loud as if by throwing out the words into the air, he would actually receive an answer from the heavens. He no longer believed there was some great big deity sitting up high and mighty on a throne in the sky with a royal scepter in his right hand ready to smite anyone who questioned or doubted.

  He now knew that the universe didn’t work like that, but right now, he wished he could have some sort of answers speaking back words of wisdom to help him fight against Katie’s ongoing stubbornness. It seemed like such an impossible task.

  He thought about signs and omens. He had tried to live his life in a state of positive thinking: glass half full rather than half empty. After all, perception is reality. He knew that right now positivity was needed more than ever. Blake closed his eyes, took in a deep, slow inhale then exhaled, as if meditating. Then he opened his eyes towards Katie’s home in the hopes that something, some manifestation of magic, would be there waiting to be discovered by him.

  This search reminded him of the same treasure hunt for seashells and sand dollars. His eyes were wide, searching in the dirt for some sign of beauty.

  The first thing that caught his eye from the place where Katie’s house once stood was the big, black wood stove. It sat unscathed. Sturdy. It looked high dollar. He walked closer and noticed the arched decorative glass cut out in the front, meant for fire watching, with the letters JOTUL engraved underneath. It was so beautifully sculpted. Wow, I’m sure the fires in that thing were gorgeous, he thought.

  Blake wondered if Katie and her husband spent much time in front of this wood stove, did they share sweet moments cuddled up together? He opened up the glass door on the stove; it didn’t appear to have been used much at all and looked practically brand new.

  Blake tried to re-count a few of the memories he had about Katie’s husband. Unfortunately, he never got the chance to really know the man since they hadn’t had very many interactions before the accident. But from what he could gather, the two of them would have gotten along great, maybe even been friends.

  Her husband would always wave to Blake whenever he was heading to and from work. He never complained about the parties or the loud revving of motorcycles that were came and went. Blake often worried about the noise and whether or not it was bothering them. He’d apologized for it a few times, but her husband always shrugged it off as if it wasn’t a big deal.

  He remembered one particular time when Katie’s husband even walked over after he had just grabbed mail from the mailbox and spotted Blake in the garage. He reminisced about the conversation.

  “Hello neighbor.” Micah had said, while Blake was changing the oil on his bike.

  Blake stood up from the ground, wiped the oil off his hands onto a white rag and smiled. “Hey. How are ya?”

  “Hanging in there. The baby is due any day now, just trying to make the wife as comfy as possible while she waits. She’s not digging my motorcycle query.” Micah said.

  Blake shrugged his shoulders. “Give her time, dude. Most women come around eventually. Maybe after the baby comes she’ll chill out about it.” Blake reached for a beer from the miniature fridge that was plugged into the wall of his garage. “Want one?”

  “Sure. Thanks.” Micah had replied as he took the bottle, twisted off the cap and gulped down a swig.

  It had been a pleasant conversation. They talked motorcycles, the need for speed, and living your life to the fullest. Blake thought Katie’s husband was a great guy.

  Blake remembered the Katie he observed back then, too. Though they never spoke, she was different. She never used to complain. She never shot dirty glances his way, no; that didn’t come until after the accident. Something changed. She was no longer the same person anymore.

  He smiled as he remembered the day the Bakers moved in. They looked so young and yet so happy together, always touching, always laughing. Blake remembered envying them. He wanted to find love; it had just never been his turn; relationships with the opposite sex were not his specialty. Many bad relationships piled up in his past often reminded him of why he chose to be a bachelor.

  Blake had told himself for years he was content with his single lifestyle, but deep down he secretly wondered if this would always be the case. Having Micah, the toddler, around caused him to question things. He began to think about himself as a father and became curious about whether or not he would ever get the opportunity, and whether or not he actually wanted it.

  Blake thought about the little girl and it reminded him of the day Katie’s husband didn’t come home with her. There were dark clouds looming in the sky. It had been raining that day—not your typical light summer rain, but a downpour. One that made driving difficult.

  The couple had left together. Blake remembered them being all dressed up under the umbrella. Katie was wearing a red dress; her swollen belly suggested that she didn’t have much longer before a new member of the family would be joining them.

  Blake often felt like a peeping Tom watching the couple as they pulled in and out of the driveway they shared with him. He couldn’t help it; he’d always been drawn to people and their stories. After that day, all became quiet across the street. Blake watched for signs of life. An entire week went by and he didn’t see anything except for a few lights that had been left on inside the empty cottage. When he finally did see movement, it was only Katie, and with a new baby in her arms.

  The husband was gone; he never came home. At first, Blake wondered if they too ended up like the other couples he knew—separated or divorced—but this situation had a different feeling surrounding it. At night, Katie’s shadow would dance through the house, swayin
g back and forth. The living room light stayed on all night as if darkness was banned. There was a silent sadness.

  Katie had never been one to have visitors before, yet cars were often parked one by one in her driveway, most of them contained people dressed in black who would drop off what appeared to be meals in glass casserole dishes. Katie didn’t open the door though. The guests would stand, knock a few times then leave food on the steps, sometimes scribbling notes along with them. He read the signs. He knew then Katie’s husband had died.

  He decided to go over to her house when the other visitors had finally ceased from coming. He wanted to offer his own condolences to Katie. He wanted to tell her he was sorry for her loss, but each time he would ring the doorbell it went unanswered. He had stopped by every day for two weeks. I don’t know why she’d answer my knocks since she didn’t answer the others, he had thought to himself.

  After a couple weeks, he stopped trying. He figured if she wasn’t answering, then she must just want to be left alone. He determined he’d comply with her wishes. That’s what he’d been trying to do for the past two years. He’d been giving her the space she seemed to want. Sometimes though, it’s just not possible. Sometimes the universe has other plans, he thought with a wry smile.

  Blake never knew the details surrounding her husband’s death, but he knew it had really changed her. It was as if her soul had vanished along with her husband’s. It was as if she too had stopped coming home that night.

  Blake heard wood cracking under his feet as he continued his walk inside what used to be Katie’s home. He realized he was standing in what he would guess to be the old living room, but hardly anything was recognizable. The footrest of a chair, wood from a coffee table, and pieces of carpet were strewn everywhere. A turquoise suitcase caught his attention off to his left. He walked over to it, picked it up and dusted the debris from the top of it. It wasn’t a normal suitcase; this one looked vintage and smaller than usual.