Kat's Fall (8 page)

“Haven’t you heard?” I ask. “I don’t have feelings.”

It takes every bit of control I have not to slam the door on my way out.

T
HE HOURS AT
Sammy’s house seem twice as long as usual. I have to admit, it’s Kat who mostly entertains Sam, and without her I have to work a lot harder. Fortunately Star keeps her entertained for a while, but I’m getting a little tired of dressing stupid Barbie dolls by the time Mr. K gets home.

I thinks Mr. K’s a little taken aback by how fast I’m out of there tonight. We often have a visit, in sign language, to brush up his skills, but I need to get home and find out if Kat is okay.

I find her sitting with Dad at the kitchen table. They each have a bowl of soup in front of them and I spot an empty can on the counter. The scene is so peaceful that a stranger would never guess this is not a typical family moment. Kat jumps up and greets Star as soon as we come in the door. I check her face for signs of tears. She looks perfectly okay.

“Well?” I ask her, signing and speaking at the same time, for Dad’s benefit. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine,” she signs, returning to the table.

“And?” I ask.

She smiles. “It’s okay, Darcy,” she signs. “I met her. She seems nice.”

I stare at her, waiting for more, some rush of emo-tion, some hysterics. She goes back to eating her soup.

“She’s changed a lot,” Dad says. “She’s like a different woman.”

I plunk myself down at the table. “What do you mean?”

“She’s been drug free for a long time. She’s no longer paranoid or worried about where she’s going to find her next fix. It’s made her really calm compared to her former self.”

“I thought you said she’s borderline crazy.”

He shrugs. “Maybe not.”

I watch him slurp up a mouthful of tomato soup. “Why didn’t you tell me you were taking Kat there today?”

“I didn’t know until this morning. I had a light load, so I knew I’d be finished work early. Today seemed as good as any.”

“What did you guys do?”

“Just sat around and visited.”

Kat must have read his lips. She drops her spoon and begins to sign. “She’s really good at signing,” she says, way too enthusiastically for my liking. “She’s been practicing, just for me.”

Something snaps in my head. Here they are talking about my mother as if she’s just come back from an extended holiday, all refreshed and ready to carry on. I can’t stand it.

“That woman tried to kill you!” I tell Kat. “Her learning sign language doesn’t make that fact go away!” I turn to Dad. “And if you think she’s so wonderful and calm and safe and uncrazy now, why don’t you invite her to come and live with you here? You think it’s fine to dump Kat on her, but what about you? Are you willing to live with her again?”

I can’t stand the tragic look on Kat’s face. I push away from the table and nearly trip over Star. It’s too much. With a swift kick the dog is out of my way and I’m back out the door.

D
AD PULLS UP
beside me when I’m walking home from school. The Kippensteins are home this week with Sammy. Kat’s been going over to Mom’s place every day after school and Mom’s parole officer supervises their visits. Me? I’m out playing sports, hangin’ with my friends, having a regular holiday.

Right.

“Hop in.”

I toss my pack into the backseat and climb in.

“She wants to see you,” he says, pulling back out into traffic.

“Not a chance.”

“C’mon, Darcy. Do it for Kat.”

“Forget it, Dad. I have nothing to say to her.”

“Listen, Darcy, you might as well get this over with. Kat is enjoying her visits, so I’d say if you don’t make some kind of peace with her, you’re not going to get to see much of Kat.”

I don’t have an answer for that. I’ve seen how content Kat is when she comes home from visiting her each afternoon. Things are working out for Dad, for Mom and for Kat. Of course, I don’t count. All the years of being there for Kat? Forgotten already.

Dad’s right, though. I am going to have to go eventually, even if it’s just to pick Kat up or drop her off sometime.

“All right.” I try to sound resigned, but my heart starts slamming around in my chest. What will she be like? Will I remember her at all?

Will I feel like killing her?

A few minutes later Dad pulls up in front of an apartment tower. “Suite #504,” he says.

“You’re not coming?”

“No, Darcy. This is something I think you need to face on your own. Besides, Kat’s already there, and so is the parole officer.”

I look up, counting the floors until I reach the fifth one. Nothing but empty balconies. I’m surprised she’d take another fifth floor apartment.

“I’ll be back for you in a couple of hours.”

I find the apartment numbers and a phone on a wall plate beside the front door. Each number has a corresponding name beside it, except for Mom’s. The place for her name has been left blank. I pick up the phone and press in the number. I’d rather be just about anywhere else at this moment, even in the dentist’s chair, having all my teeth removed. Without anesthetic.

“Hello?”

“It’s me, Darcy.”

There’s a pause. “Hi, Darcy.”

A long beep. The door unlocks. I enter the building and push the button for the elevator.

She better not get too close to me.

The elevator doors slide open and I step inside and press the button. The doors shut again and I watch the floor indicator as the compartment climbs past them. Two. Three. Four. I don’t want to be here. Five.

The door slides open, I step off and then Kat is there, wrapping her arms about me in a huge hug. A flood of emotion overcomes me. I shut my eyes, willing the tears to go back to where they came from.

I feel Kat’s warm hand in mine, tugging me. “C’mon, Darcy,” she encourages, pulling me down the corridor.

I allow myself to be led.

Then I see her, standing in an open doorway at the end of the hall. Ten years melt away in an instant. She’s standing there, cigarette in hand, telling me I can come back now. I’m pushing baby Kat up and down the hallway in her stroller. Mom has a friend over and needs me to keep Kat happy while he’s there. I’m delighted to have the responsibility, jiggling the buggy if she starts to whimper. I’ll get candy later, if I do a good job. When I see her friend leave I can bring Kat back in. It doesn’t take long. It never does. I hope I get Smarties. Or maybe a jawbreaker.

“Hi, Darcy,” she says when we reach the end of the hallway.

I’m dropped back into the present with a thud. She’s still standing in the doorway, arms crossed, smoke from her cigarette curling up past her face. She’s smaller than I remember. I glance quickly at her face, but look away. Her eyes are Kat’s eyes, only a million years older and sadder. I just nod. I have no voice.

“C’mon in,” she says, stepping aside. Her voice sounds a little shaky. She better not start crying. I’m out of here if she does.

I enter the small apartment, stepping past the tiny kitchen and into the living room. The furniture is old, but the room looks comfortable. A woman who must be the parole officer is sitting in the far corner with a book. She looks up and nods. I nod back and she resumes reading, trying to look invisible. There’s a plate of cookies on the coffee table and recent school photos of both Kat and me on top of the
TV
.

“Katrina brought them to me,” Mom signs, indicating the pictures. Her signing is slow, but it’s clear.

I just nod again and sink onto the couch. Kat sits beside me, looking anxious. I guess she’s worried that I’ll do something stupid and shake up this tenuous relationship she has established with her mom; the mom who once tried to kill her. Maybe I should.

“Would you like a Coke?” Mom asks with her hands. “And help yourself to a cookie. Kat and I baked them while we were waiting for you.”

I glance at Kat and she nods proudly. How nice. Mom and daughter baking together. A Kodak moment, I’m sure.

“No, thanks,” I say. I’m not participating in any of this.

She sits down on a chair facing us. She stubs out her cigarette in an ashtray. Her hair is pulled back into a ponytail and she’s barefoot, wearing only jeans and a pale yellow T-shirt. She looks exactly the way I remember her. An ugly conflict begins to stir inside me. It’s like I’ve been transported back in time, and the feelings I had for her as a little boy are trying to sneak out of the place they’ve been stashed for ten years. The grown-up me roughly pushes them away. Those little boy feelings didn’t know better.

“Kat’s been telling me that you’re a wonderful big brother.”

I glance at Kat. “Someone had to take care of her.”

She nods sadly. “That’s for sure.”

It isn’t the reaction I was hoping for.

“I know you’re mad at me, Darcy. You have every right to be.”

I don’t say anything. What is there to say?

“I was hoping you’d give me a fresh start,” she continues, using her hands and speaking slowly.

“Why should I?”

She shakes her head. “Because I need you to.”

The phone rings.

“Hello?”

I watch Mom’s face pale. She hangs up.

“Another one?” Kat asks.

Mom nods.

The phone rings again. I see the parole officer look up. Mom reaches for it but Kat jumps up. “No!” she says. She picks up the receiver and pushes it under a cushion on the couch.

Mom laughs. “You’re catching on, Babe,” she signs. Babe? I’m about to barf.

“Mean people keep phoning and bugging Mom,” Kat tells me.

She should tell someone who cares.

“Do you remember much about our life, Darcy? Before…before I went to prison?”

“Enough.” That’s an understatement, considering the memory that rushed back at me when I got off the elevator.

“I was a mess, wasn’t I? I can’t believe it was me when I look back on those days. It’s like looking into someone else’s nightmare.” She lights another cigarette.

Kat tries to lighten the mood. “Mom says I can have a sleepover here next weekend,” she tells me.

I look at her. “Oh yeah?” God, a whole weekend without her? I’m not ready for it. “What are you going to do with your dog?”

“You’ll look after the dog, won’t you, Darcy?” Mom asks.

“But she’s mine,” Kat argues. I see the signs of a puberty moment coming on. I can’t believe she hasn’t thought of this before now. “Dad just got her for me. Her name is Star, and I’ve just started training her to sense when I’m about to have a seizure and to protect me. Especially when Darcy’s not there.”

I glance at Mom’s pale face. “You remember about the epilepsy, don’t you?” I ask, pointedly.

I don’t think she catches my meaning. She crosses one leg over the other and her foot begins to twitch nervously.

Kat glances about her. “I can bring her here, can’t I?” she asks, her own alarm beginning to register on her face.

“Kat,” Mom says, resting her cigarette on the ashtray so she can sign, “I don’t think I’m allowed to have dogs here. It’s such a small place.”

Kat slumps a little lower on the couch. I hear the parole officer turn a page in her book.

“It’s a big responsibility to have Kat for a whole weekend,” I tell Mom. “She has to take medication for her seizures, but occasionally she gets them anyway. Are you sure you’re up to it?”

But Mom’s still thinking about the dog. “Kat, I’m going to be straightforward. I’ve promised myself to always be honest with you.” She picks up the cigarette and takes a long pull on it. Her hand is shaking. “I’m afraid of dogs. Deathly afraid. Have been since I was a little girl and got this.” She pulls up one leg of her jeans to expose a mass of scars twisting around her leg. It looks a lot like the underside of my arm. For a brief second I wonder if it really was a dog, but then I notice the shaking hand again.

“You were attacked?”

Mom nods.

“But Star isn’t like that!” Kat signs. “She’s gentle and sweet and—”

“It’s an irrational fear, honey. The same way other people are afraid of spiders or snakes. I’ve tried to deal with it, but I’ve had to face up to so many other things. That one hasn’t been high on my list.”

“You’ll get used to her,” Kat insists. “I promise.”

Mom stares at her. “I don’t know. One thing at a time I think. We’re just starting to get to know each other and I want to get reacquainted with your brother and find a job. There’s so much for me to do already.”

Kat sighs. I can see from her expression that Mom’s hero-status has just taken a giant nosedive in Kat’s estimation. It’s like in the game of Snakes and Ladders when you almost get to the top to win, but then you land on that last snake and it swoops you down, practically back to square one. I’d say Mom’s just made that slide.

Mom knows it too. I try hard not to look smug.

Seven

K
at decides not to visit Mom the next day, so we’re home after school with Dad and with too much time on our hands. Kat mopes about the house, Star constantly at her side.

Dad finally gets fed up. “What is the matter with her?” he shouts at me after Kat has burst into tears for the fourth time.

“I think she’s trying to decide which she wants more, a mom or a dog.”

“Tell her she doesn’t have a choice.”

“You tell her. The dog was your idea.”

“I’d forgotten about Sherri’s stupid fears,” he admits, then adds, mumbling, “God, you’d think she’d have outgrown it by now.”

“I told you that you’d regret this, Dad.”

He doesn’t say a word.

I'
M SURPRISED WHEN
Kat decides to do the weekend sleepover. She’s pulled herself together, and on Thursday night she packs a bag to take on Friday. She’ll go straight to Mom’s after school.

“You promise to feed and walk Star?” she signs, for the umpteenth time. Her anxious face makes my heart ache.

I nod and wonder how this is all going to resolve itself. I’m actually surprised that Dad hasn’t called and asked Eileen to come and collect the damn dog.

Kat must have read my thoughts. “And I’ll never forgive you if Dad gives her back while I’m away,” she says.

“Dad blew it, Kat,” I tell her, using my hands. “He should have checked with Mom before he got the dog. We both knew that.”