Consuming Kate
an excerpt

We had an evening of splashing about, surrounded by nude Greco roman statues with strategically placed leaves that I had not seen in art class. Annette ran out of steam before me and Laney did, and we played all her silly kid games for hours and hours. As the sun set and the sky turned a lovely orange, the pool started turning a deeper and deeper blue. Laney was on my back, her arms around my neck. I swam underwater, from one side to the other, as Laney practiced holding her breath. We would break to the water’s surface, and she would gasp for air melodramatically, as if she’d almost forgotten how to breathe, then she would demand I do it again. We’d dive again, and the water would ripple all around us, through our fingers and hair, and her heavy little body turned weightless.

The next morning, my sisters and I woke in the living room, in a fold-out couch that dad purchased for the move. It still smelled faintly of plastic, but mom had put three fitted sheets down to block any possible lingering chemicals from the factory. Light was pouring through the tall windows, and the room looked a mess: boxes were stacked randomly in corners. Shelves were bare. A television sat on the floor, unplugged.

Behind us, mother prepared a fantastic breakfast, finding her way around the bachelor-sized kitchen with ease. She had been up much of the night, finding more and more spaces to sterilize, and as she pulled milk out of the refrigerator, I realized she had found time to purchase two cartloads of groceries. Dad was sitting quietly at the counter, sipping coffee. Mom was in her state of mission – she would not stop moving until breakfast had been served, consumed, the dishes clean, and the counter wiped down with a bleach solution.

They weren’t talking to each other. I could see by her stiffened expression that she had no intention of talking, either, until she saw me.

“Good morning, beautiful!” she brightened up. “How’d you sleep on that fold-out couch? Did you skin do okay? How would you like some strawberries?”

I sat at the breakfast table, which was already fully set. From here I could see dad’s face. He looked tired and miserable. I suddenly was angry at myself again. All the time he’d been here, I had wasted it ignoring him. And now we would barely see him at all.

He looked at me. This time, I didn’t look away. The kitchen faded away, and I I fell into the pool of his deep blue eyes, swimming in the comfort of them.