a novel by Tracey Langford
The wind blew gently and leaves fell steadily from the trees lining Jamison Street. The brisk air was a stark reminder that football season had rolled around once again, that the holidays loomed right around the corner, and that life kept repeating itself over and over. Stoughton, Wisconsin, just outside Madison, was nothing more than a cycle, like a ferris wheel going round and round. Sometimes you found yourself on the top looking out over your life thinking, This is good; I could go on like this forever. But as soon as you'd get really comfortable with that thought, you'd feel yourself slowly slipping over the edge, descending toward some unknown yet familiar pit that consumed you until you felt the wheel slowly ascending to the top again.
These were the feelings of the young girl getting out of the black Camaro that pulled up to the curb. An enshrouding restlessness came over her without warning until she thought she couldn't breathe. But, just when she was about to finally suffocate, ever so gently the feeling disappeared, leaving her to wonder if she'd really experienced it.
Katie Montgomery had learned to ride out these emotional storms so gracefully that no one ever knew of the battle that raged within. She leveled her emotions day in and day out, causing no waves and bringing no attention to herself.
"Hey, I'll be back to pick you up around 6:30 for the game, okay?" said the guy in the driver's seat of the car. Katie leaned through the open window and gave Eric a quick kiss on the lips. "Thanks for the ride."
"For you, baby, any time."
With that, Katie turned and started up the walk to the front door of her apartment building, an old, three-story Victorian home converted into separate apartment units.
Eric watched her for a moment, and, indeed, he liked what he saw. Katie may not have been the most fun girl in the school--in fact she was really a little too quiet for his taste--but she sure did look good. At five-feet-five-inches she fit perfectly under his arm as they walked through the halls at school. With her slim figure she could have been a model had she been taller. Her brown hair with its soft blond highlights reached to the points in her shoulder blades. Today, wearing faded blue jeans and a white sweatshirt, she presented a picture of the quintessential all-American girl.
Not a bad little prize I've got there, Eric smirked to himself. I know a lot of guys who wish they were in my shoes. With one last wave of his hand out the window, he sped off, squealing the tires of his car in the hopes it would impress Katie and anyone else within earshot.
Katie slowly opened the third-floor apartment door and quietly called, "Mama?"
"She ain't here. She don't get off work till five." The owner of the voice appeared in the room as Katie closed the door behind her.
Rick's southern drawl grated on Katie's nerves. For some reason she never believed it was genuine. Why would anyone want to talk like that on purpose? But she'd given up trying to figure him out and just accepted the fact that her mama wanted him around.
"Well, you sure look pretty today, little Katie."
Repulsed at the sight that met her, Katie mumbled "Thank you" and then said a little more loudly and clearly, "I have some homework to do. I'll be in my room."
"You tellin' me you're gonna do homework on a Friday night? Now, I don't know much, but I know a pretty little thing like you must have better things to do on a Friday than homework, now ain't that so?"
"Well, I am going to the football game with Eric, but I just wanted to get my homework over with so it wouldn't be hanging over my head all weekend."
The dark-haired, bearded man broke into a sly smile. "Well, that Eric sure is a lucky boy, now ain't he? I can remember going to my high school ball games down in Georgia. OoooWeeeee! We'd sure have us some wild times. Chasin' the girls, drinkin' a little . . . well . . . okay, drinking a lot!" He bellowed as if it was hysterically funny.
Whatever the joke was, frankly, Katie didn't get it.
"Yeah," he continued, lost in nostalgia, "I remember this one game. Our team was losin' so bad . . ."
He kept talking, and Katie knew this was her time to escape. With any luck he wouldn't even notice she was gone. He was already pretty wasted. She quickly ducked through the door off the kitchen into the closet-sized storage space she had claimed as her room.
Closing the door, she sighed, shook her head, and flopped down on the mattress that lay on the floor. A small chest of drawers just fit into her little cubbyhole, and she had installed hooks in the wall for hanging clothes.
Katie kicked her tennis shoes off and stared up at the ceiling as if looking for answers. She'd never found any during all the countless hours she'd spent in this very same position in this very room. But again today she looked. She searched that ceiling, sure she must have missed the answers to all of life's questions in all those little whirling patterns. It was such a perfect picture of life. A series of swirls going round and round, no beginning and no end, just an endless cycle; not good, not bad, not leading anywhere. The occasional crack, like the ones in the plaster above her head, and the intermittent dark stains cast a gloomy glow on everything. But she threw a thin towel over the lamp in her room, and it dimmed the light just enough to make everything seem almost ethereal.
Katie marveled at the change an old flour sack towel made. She lay back and re-studied the ceiling. This time she saw no cracks and no ugly stains, just pretty little swirls like you might find in a pond on a breezy day; or the marks left by an ice skater pirouetting across a frozen pond. She closed her eyes, took a deep breath and held it to the point of being uncomfortable, then slowly released it. When the last drop of air had been expelled, she opened her eyes and whispered to no one in particular, "I wish I could throw something over my life to cover all the cracks and imperfections ... and be ... beautiful." The last word wasn't audible, just a faint expulsion of air released almost reverently into the atmosphere, the closest thing to a prayer that had ever crossed her lips.
Katie slept and when she awoke, she had an urge to not move and just be totally silent. She could almost hear the words Be still filling her tiny room. Acquiescing to the unbidden desire, Katie remained motionless for several minutes. Why am I doing this? What is this going to accomplish? But still the desire deep inside her won out. After another moment or so, Katie vigorously shook her head and began to rise. She then noticed the clock sitting atop her chest of drawers. It said 6:05; she sprang to life.
Rubbing her hands over her face to wipe away the last remnants of sleep, she muttered, "I try to be philosophical about the meaning of life, and all I end up doing is being late!" Semi-laughing at herself, she entered the kitchen.
"So Sleeping Beauty finally awakes, does she?"
Katie smiled at the woman sitting at the small, square kitchen table. "I can't believe I slept for over two hours!"
"Rick said something about a football game." The woman cocked her head toward the snoring mass sprawled on the blue and tan plaid sofa in the living room.
Katie crinkled her nose. "Yeah, Eric'll be here to pick me up in about twenty minutes."
Daria Montgomery frowned in frustration at her daughter. "Well, don't you think you should be getting ready, sweetheart? Guys like Eric don't come along every day; and if you want to keep him, you'd better fix yourself up a little."
"Mama, it's a football game, not the prom!"
"Well, scoff all you want, but mark my words, men don't stay around long if you don't do something to make 'em want to stay."
Katie had heard all this before. She knew to tread lightly. "Well, what if I'm not sure I want Eric to stick around? I mean, he's nice and he's certainly good looking, but ... I mean ... well, Mama, I'm only seventeen. You make it sound like I should be getting married or something."
Daria took a drink of her soda mixed with bourbon. Then she leveled her gaze at her daughter. "Well, I do know this much, Katie: I've been with a man and I've been without a man. And trust me, even with all the trouble they bring, it's still better with than without. Bein' alone is no sweet ride." With a wave of her hand she added, "So you go do like your mama says and doll yourself up a little."
Katie saw the sadness in her mother's eyes and knew she wasn't thinking about her and Eric. Daria often retreated to some far away place in her mind. Katie was fairly certain that mysterious place had something to do with her father. He was never mentioned; Daria made it quite clear she didn't want to talk about him, ever. So Katie rarely brought it up. At least she wouldn't have to "doll" herself up: her mother was now oblivious to everything except the amber-colored liquid in her glass and her tortured memories.