by H. Mattern
He opened the latch and found a bunch of tiny tubes of paint. Little black sketchbooks were sitting underneath the many colors. He flipped through some pages and found paintings of what he guessed were watercolor on the pages. He wondered if Katie was the artist or if it might have been Micah, her husband. He held onto the piece of luggage and continued rummaging through the other items nearby.
Moving a chair out of his way, Blake noticed a photo that sat alone behind some of the glass. He recognized Katie and her husband, Micah. It was a beautiful photo. It looked as if it was taken somewhere in the tropics. Hawaii, maybe, he wondered. Katie was wearing a pink bikini, squished up next to her husband, behind a waterfall. She was glowing in the image as she stared at her man. Both of them sported huge smiles.
Blake wondered if Katie would ever share their story with him. He hoped she would find a way out from the place she hid deep inside, locked up and caged by her own hands. Would she forever be lost? Would she ever bloom again? Would she ever smile like she did in this photo?
He continued to walk through the clutter and toward the back. A quilt lay crumpled on the ground with colors of bright pink and lime green.
Micah, he thought to himself, realizing that this must have been her room before the storm. He bent down to grab the material and was surprised to find it dry. Blake shook off the glass and wooden splinters from its grip and hoped that this little blanket would at least bring her some comfort—some stability. Maybe he could help a little in that aspect.
There was so much. So many little things he debated picking up, dusting off, and taking back to the house in order to give Katie the opportunity to decide whether each thing were worth keeping. He realized, standing in the midst of this rubble and looking around at another person’s life in pieces on the floor, that there were memories here within each item, memories he didn’t know. Each small piece of debris held stories of it’s own, and he knew he couldn’t do this for Katie. She was going to have to come dig through the damage for herself.
It wasn’t going to be fun or easy, but Blake determined right then and there, between shards of glass and watercolors, that he would stick by her side while she figured out what her next few steps would be. He wouldn’t leave her to fend for herself. Katie was stuck with him, and she was just going to have to suck it up and learn to accept his help. She was going to need it.
Katie thought she was so strong and, to a degree, she had been. With a little girl to take care of, he didn’t begrudge her need to be strong; he didn’t blame her for hiding her feelings. But it was time that she also started to think of herself. She’s got to put her oxygen mask on herself before helping anyone else. Blake surprised himself at his own flight attendant analogy. Yes, he would be there for her. He would teach her how to put her oxygen mask on and he would help her find her smile again.
Blake walked back to his house with the luggage swinging by his side, the quilt under his arm and the photo between his fingers. What should I tell Katie? How should I tell her that she’s got lots of hard work ahead of her? How could he make her go back into that house when it had been exhausting even for him, who had no sentimentality attached?
Blake struggled to get the door open with his hands full of what he hoped would be a little bit of consolation for the girls. Neither Katie nor Micah was in the living room. Blake quickly glanced in the kitchen, but they weren’t to be found in there either. He pondered whether or not he should check on them in the bedroom. Would it be uncalled for? What if Katie was having a bad reaction to the injury? He had to check on her.
The door was closed. He knocked but received no answer. He tried knocking louder. When he was still left standing without an answer, he began to panic and decided to open the door.
“Katie?” Blake spoke her name aloud as he slowly cracked open the door, careful not to be intruding. When he didn’t see the girls anywhere, his fear began to rise. He pushed the door all the way open and entered the room. “Katie; Katie are you OK?” He noticed his race shirt, the one she had been wearing earlier, lay crumpled on the floor. As soon as he realized his mistake he turned around to head back out of the bedroom.
Just as Blake turned, he knew that the door to the master bath had been opened and Katie’s gasp made him jump.
“What are you doing in here?” Katie screamed.
Blake was smart enough not to turn around. He was afraid of what he would find if he did, so he just froze. He heard Katie scramble around for clothing. Micah came waddling up to his legs, in only a diaper.
“We take bath,” she said to him. Her hair in tight wet ringlets dripping water down her chubby cheeks.
“Was it fun?” he asked her. Not knowing what else to say. Blake made two-year-old small talk to give Katie some time to put some clothes on.
“No toys,” she said, rubbing her eyes as if it was coming close to naptime.
“I’m sorry, sweetie, I’ll find something for you to play with next time, OK?” He picked her up and swung her around not thinking about Katie. As he circled, he noticed her bare legs under his race shirt. He couldn’t keep the red from his face.
He walked out of the room with Micah still in his arms and hoped that they could avoid the topic of his barging in. They needed to move past enemy territory and into a friendship, but he was less than hopeful at the moment.
Blake sat on the couch with Micah in his lap. He thought about her in the little diaper, wondering why Katie hadn’t gotten her dressed yet. And then he remembered, how could he be so naïve. There was nothing else. This little girl had only what she was wearing the day before, and everything else was gone. Why hadn’t he thought to look through the rubble for clothing? He decided he’d go back after dropping off the items he did find.
Katie and Micah were both left without the familiar, without clothing, without comfort. His logical mind began to figure out a way to help them; his heart broke for this little girl. There was nothing he could do. He couldn’t run to a store and buy them what they needed. Right then and there, he felt helpless.
He glanced over to where he had placed the items he found amidst the rubble and saw her quilt. He leaned over with the babe still on his lap, and pulled the little blanket close, glad it wasn’t wet and nasty—a little miracle in itself. “Is this yours?” he asked with a smile.
The child’s eyes widened at the sight of this piece of home. She reached longingly for the blanket and immediately pulled it up to her cheek, snuggling close into its warmth. Blake pulled her in closer to his chest and wrapped the rest of the blanket around her little body holding the child tight in his arms.
Micah relaxed, balled herself up and snuggled in his embrace. She stuck two of her little fingers, the middle finger and tiny ring finger of her left hand, into her mouth. Blake had never seen a child do this before. He had seen kids suck their thumb but this, two fingers? She was a unique child, indeed, he thought to himself.
It didn’t take long for Blake to notice the little girl’s eyes had slowly begun to close. It was rhythmic, magical, and peaceful. They would open, then they would close, open slower, and close yet again. He watched as if she was singing her own little lullaby to him. Eventually her eyes stopped opening and he could tell that she had officially entered the land of dreams.
He continued to hold her, rocking slowly, as if they were in an invisible rocking chair. Blake admired the innocence in a child sleeping, and it was then he knew he wasn’t satisfied with being alone for the rest of his life. He never thought he wanted a child, but now, he began to wonder. He began to crave a family. And he missed his sister. He wanted a daughter, perhaps a son, and a wife. For the first time, he got a taste of what a connected family might be like and he wanted it.
As soon as his thoughts were formed, Katie came walking into the room, her hands on her hips as if she was prepared with a rehearsed lecture. But when she stood in
front of him, her stance, her face, everything softened.
“Look, I didn’t think you’d be showering. I figured the bath still needed to be cleaned and cleared up. Truly. I never would have entered the bedroom. I was worried that something happened.”
Katie’s eyes looked down at the bundle in his arms, the blanket, and her daughter who continued to suck on her fingers, asleep. Katie sighed and sat down beside him.
“I cleaned the bathroom up for you while you were at the house. It was the least I could do after all your hospitality.”
Blake sighed in relief. He wasn’t ready for them to have another fight. That last one was plenty for the rest of my life, he thought.
“She likes you.” Katie said. She pulled a hair tie off of her wrist and contained the wet unruly strands of hair that were dripping water droplets down onto the race shirt she’d put back on, leaving their prints on her shoulders and down her back.
“I’ve heard I’m a pretty likable guy,” replied Blake as he winked in Katie’s direction. She didn’t look amused. He had hoped to coax perhaps a little smile out of her—no such luck.
Katie looked down at the blanket Micah clung to. She hugged her arms across her body and fought back sobs. Blake now debated whether or not bringing the quilt back was the right decision.
Carefully and slowly, Katie began to caress the quilts corners, the different textures of fabric: cotton, linen, and silk. She stared, flipping it over and admiring it in slow motion as if seeing it for the very first time. Katie then glanced up at Blake when she realized that he was watching her intently, and even though the tears still interrupted her breath, she somehow found her words.
“I made this.”
Blake wasn’t sure what to say. Was she about to let him peek into a previous chapter of her story? He didn’t want to jinx anything by saying something wrong or stupid, so he played it safe.
“The quilt, it really is beautiful. You did a wonderful job.”
Katie looked up and rolled her eyes, as if throwing off his compliment. Blake wondered if it was a reaction to a stranger’s compliment or if she had difficulty receiving them in general. Does she know how beautiful she looks right now? Blake found himself wondering, as he sat mesmerized by her.
“It was therapy for me. After he left.” Katie paused as if those few words seemed to take energy away from her. She then went silent, remembering, reliving, and daydreaming. Blake wondered if she had given up and was going to end her story on that note, but just as he was about to break the awkward silence she surprised him and spoke again.
“I needed something to do; the silence tortured me during her naps, so I learned to quilt. I searched and found videos online. It took me six months to do this little blanket. Pitiful huh? I haven’t made a single thing since then.”
Honored that Katie was actually opening up, Blake felt as though she had just shared a secret with him. Something so intimate, so painful, so special. He was speechless. He didn’t know what to say, so he decided not to even try.
Blake didn’t know why he did it, other than the fact that his heart was softening toward Katie. A mountain had been moved in this moment, a door had been opened. Blake felt it signified something sacred. He reached over with the hand that was free from holding the little one and placed it upon hers. She stopped feeling the quilt and began to tense up under his fingers. Blake strengthened his grip and looked into her eyes.
“We WILL get through this, you know that right?” He wanted to give her some form of comfort and hoped that his words might help, even if just a little. Katie responded by nodding and then pulled her hand away.
“Thank you for the blanket. Right now, it feels like a little miracle,” she leaned over and kissed the top of Micah’s head.
“That’s exactly what I thought,” Blake told her, very aware of how close Katie’s head came to his chest during that kiss. He wanted to have her in his embrace, to give her comfort. Blake then remembered the incident earlier and blushed at walking in on her.
“I’m sorry again about walking in on you earlier. I wanted to make sure you were okay. My mind was racing with horrible things when you didn’t answer my knock. I was worried. Honestly. I wasn’t trying to invade your privacy by any means. I didn’t realize that you would be—naked.”
Katie didn’t fight back. Blake wasn’t sure if she was just tired and didn’t have the energy or if she was really starting to accept that right now, she needed him. She shook her head as if she understood and his words made sense to her.
“It’s alright, just don’t let it happen again.” Her tone wasn’t angry, it wasn’t irritated, and it almost seemed a little friendly, flirty even.
Blake wasn’t certain, but he thought he saw a tiny smile appear on her face. A beautiful smile, the possibility of this sent his heart racing—something he hadn’t experienced in a long time. He worried that perhaps something was wrong with him. He had heard of people having panic attacks, and they often described them as an irregular racing of the heart.
Am I having a panic attack? But why would something as positive as Katie’s smile make me go into a state of panic? His heart was still beating wildly and then something else began to happen. His body began to get warm as he felt a feverish blushing coming up to his cheeks and he began to sweat.
It can’t be. I don’t even know this woman. I can’t be falling for her. It isn’t possible. He knew that nothing could ever happen between the two of them, and not just because of their differences. She hated him, smile or not. He had to distance himself. He couldn’t fall for his neighbor. It would only end in painful heartache. His.
I’m not falling for her, he thought to himself. She’s an attractive woman. Any man would react in this manner if he were sitting next to Katie and hearing her open up her heart right after being naked in his own house. This is nothing special, just an attraction. That’s it. He kept repeating thoughts like these to himself in the hopes that he would eventually believe them, but he knew that this was different than the other instances with women in his life. This was a new feeling.
“If you want to lay her down, I can take her to the bedroom,” Katie said, looking at her sleeping daughter still comfortable in Blake’s arms. She hoped that he would accept her offering to relieve him since the sight of Micah in another man’s arms began to unnerve her.
Blake thought about handing the child to her mother but he didn’t want to move. He was frozen in his spot and afraid to speak; he worried that his tone or his words would give away his thoughts. He didn’t want her to know that she had moved him physically, that all he could think about right now was her, the image of her wearing his shirt, and her bare legs that he’d glimpsed only moments earlier underneath it.
She must never know about these feelings, these images that invaded his thoughts. She would definitely flip out if she knew what was running around inside his head. Instead, he simply shook his head no in response to her inquiry.
“Are you sure? Let me know if you change your mind and want me to take her,” Katie replied as she began to walk out of the room. She stopped when she spotted the other items.
Katie leaned over the turquoise piece of luggage that Blake had brought inside and squatted down in front if it. Slowly, Katie began to release the golden clasps that kept the treasures hidden inside. “Did you look at these?” she blushed.
“I saw they were paints and canvases, but I didn’t look inside the journals,” he replied, hoping she wouldn’t be frustrated with him. He hadn’t known what he would find on the inside.
Katie didn’t chastise him. She just rummaged through the items and said, “I used to want to be an artist, before, well, life happened.”
Katie flipped through the sketchbook, glancing and critiquing her own drawings and paintings one by one. Each of the pieces of art held a story for her, Blake could tell.
With each one, her expression changed. One moment she would be looking longingly at a watercolor painting of a lone tree, as if remembering some great adventure with nature. In another moment, she would be sent deep in thought with one glance at a café scene, off somewhere else, as if protecting a heart of fear and pain.
When Blake was brave enough to find his voice again he said, “You are full of talented surprises, aren’t you Katie Baker? You’re a painter, a quilt maker, what else can you do? Magic? Can you turn water into wine?”
He didn’t mean to make her blush. Evidently, she didn’t take compliments very well. Blake wondered in that moment if she had thoughts about him as he’d had only seconds earlier about her. Did she find him attractive? She’s a woman though, she isn’t visual, he thought to himself, in reproof.
Katie shook her head, “Honestly, it’s not that big a deal. I just scribble with color. That’s all these are, colorful scribbles. I did want to be an artist, but that was a long time ago.”
She continued to glance through the pages, and then, after filling her memories with pictures, she looked through the paints.
“I doubt any of these are still good. I haven’t painted anything in years. I haven’t touched the paints since he died.”
Blake decided that instead of leaving her to her own thoughts, instead of allowing her to remain embraced in the quiet, where she would sink back into those sad memories, he’d encourage her to keep her thoughts moving forward.
