Spoiler! :
Kate’s full brown eyes came up as she lowered her coffee cup. Big white teeth split her milk-stained lips and a touch of cream slipped from the tip of her nose.
“I’m sorry I ordered for you already,” she said as she lifted herself from her chair to hug me.
On the other side of the table, a creamy caffeinated concoction sat; In front of me in a tall glass was a hot chocolate, neatly lavished with cream, marshmallows and stencilled cocoa.
“So, What’s new?” Kate said, rising through the attuned whine of steaming milk and clinking cups against saucers.
“Nothing. I wish I had something interesting to tell you, but I’ve adjusted back to my boring old life, living back with Phil, and I go back to work next Monday. ”
“You’re looking very smart with a haircut and manicured beard by the way,” Kate said, with lips drawn into a smile. My cheeks felt warm.
“Things got a little messy back there, so, how are your parents and are you happy to be home?”
“Well, I guess so, they have both retired. Dad putts about the house watching TV, and in the afternoon, he chops firewood. He still plays golf; he said he plays with your Dad once every couple of months,” Kate paused for a sip, “how is your Dad?”
I swallowed the scolding chocolate, “He’s fine.”
Kate reached down into her chic leather camera case, which looked as though it was plucked from the 60’s; remembering she had once proudly asserted it was ‘the genuine article.’ From it she drew a USB stick and held it over the table.
“This is for you.”
“Oh, what is this?”
“I put all the photos from our trip on there, in case you wanted a copy.” I felt something when she handed it to me, at first I felt sad, and then my chest seemed to expand with content. I almost wanted to reach out and take her hand, but I retracted with only the USB.
“Thanks Kate, that’s really kind of you.” She smiled and buried her nose back into her latte for another long sip.
“So what are the plans from here, start the career?” Kate’s eyes darted from mine to the side and then to her hands; She studied the languid movements of her fingers caressing her cup, fingers parting and entwining then hands drawing apart. That typical coy smile seemed to invert.
“I’m torn Rocky.”
I frowned, trying to read her waning expression, “How so?”
“I’m lost, back to square one. I don’t want to leave home, but I don’t want to live with my parents,” at first her eyes grew wide, adverted my own, her hands again occupying her idle gaze, and her voice gained tempo, then she reclaimed her calm, but pushed on.
“I’m thinking about going back to university, keep studying. Four years isn’t enough for someone to find their true calling. At least that will put off growing up for a while.” She opened her mouth as if to laugh but only let out a sharp chesty breath.
“Why don’t you have a year off, spend some time with your family at home?”
“I love them, but life at the Little household is so mundane, I couldn’t last a year of Dad’s cooking and Mom’s soaps. I have thought about travelling again but I can’t afford it,” Kate let out an embellished lengthy sigh then smiled and finally asked,
“What should I do Rocky?” I knew the question was coming but her problems were trivial, at least your living with your parents was an option.
“Well University begins in only a few weeks so it may be too late to enrol, and what would you study? You’re too smart as it is. I can’t think of anyone else with the courage to do what you have done, change you’re course every semester. Photography, journalism, creative writing, commercial law, Politics, and -” I paused, scratched the back of my head and let my gaze wonder up, in fallacious muse.
“-Anthropology” She interrupted and by now her smile was growing as though every word hooked the edges of her mouth and drew them wider.
“-Anthropology, of course how could I forget? You have studied how everyone should, studying things you want to learn, knowledge you want to attain, not studying things merely to gain a career. Yet somehow after everything, you have managed earn a degree.” Kate shined, and then she began to giggle. Her head rolled back, her mouth fell open, and laughter came first in snorts then in a torrent. Familiar warmth flushed my face; reaching out across the table I placed my hand on hers.
“I think you should take time for you Kate, get back into your writing and take some photos at home. You don’t have to decide your future overnight”
The room seemed much quieter now. The sentiments soon made way for stories from our trip. Kate’s eyes shaped into quarter moons and held a beam; her laughter not yielding to her words.
“So I am considering dinner at Dads this Friday with Phil, I could catch a bus out early if you’re free to hang?” I had decided to perhaps take Dad up on his offer; it would post an opportunity to visit Kate at home and maybe collect a few of my childhood relics, collect my mint Hockey cards, before he realises their value. Now I didn’t want to leave her behind without some form of commitment, our next ren de vous.
“Yeah that sounds great, I will clear my super busy schedule,” she made her eyes wide, brows high as she said ‘busy.’
We left the café and strolled to her father’s Prius. Coins clanked into the til as she paid the due parking then we traced our way across the city.
When she parked outside my building, twilight watercolours stained the cloudless sky.
“Thanks for this Rocky, I needed to escape our shitty little hometown even if only for a day.”
“Any time Kate, if you’re free and in the city whenever call me. Also I’ll come by and see you before dinner with dad, I promise.”
Leaning over she grabbed me and awkwardly pulled me to the center console. I felt her breath then her lips. As she pulled away from my cheek, she spoke, “Thanks again Rocky, take care.”
“You to.”
***
I laboured through the heat, entering the apartment and suddenly realised the air con was left blaring at 85 degrees. I unbuttoned my shirt and let it slip from my shoulders. Falling back in the cool leather sofa, I flicked through the channels until I found a story about veterans from World War 2.
On the screen, they awkwardly sat on stools, side by side. One had a chest full of brightly coloured honours and metals. In an aged green cotton- balled combatant suit, which may once have been full and bolstered, but now it wore as though there was no flesh or muscle that separated the cloth and bone beneath; a man with droopy hanging skin, and no younger than ninety, with a holey grin and white eyebrows.
The other wore a common place suit, well would be common place thirty years ago. Skin sagged over his narrow dark eyes and white whiskers protruded from his upper lip.
The camera cut to the interviewer, a young prim looking man in front of a dark screen, sat opposite the two. I unmuted the television.
“So you two fought in World War two, which in itself is an exceptional thing, but to have met in those circumstances and both still be alive it must be a strange feeling” The reporter wore a neat blue suit and spoke with a quaint London accent, almost pompous.
“I am jus’ so happy to be here an’ I am glad we both walked away from it with our bodies in tac’” The American veteran spoke first, in a thick savannah drawl with long rolling vowels, next the other man spoke.
“I had won many dogfights. I was an elite pilot. My new friend had taken down my allies. It was lucky because we are both good pilots. It is strange, I have my great grandchildren now in American schools.” The man spoke with Japanese vowels, imperial tones and long pauses between words.
“So how does it feel?” The two veterans flashed holey grins in unison, “ I mean how does it really feel? in a different age you two had orders to kill each other.”
“It’s- ” the American choked down a sob.
The interviewee glanced beyond the camera at a producer or an aid he seemed out of his depth as tears rolled from first the American than the Japanese man’s eyes. He gathered his cool and smiled a full charming smile, lips tight, eyes half open.
It was tragic. Something had hit me in the gut, It came hard, first in wet gushing tears, then in sobs and finally silent reverence. But, I had to stop, something was stirring, an emptiness had dawned and the tragedy of it all was agonising. I grasped the control and in a moment, I stared at a blank screen as the trail of cold tears, left my cheeks wet.
It was a moment, perhaps an hour. I recollected myself and brushed a sleeve across each cheek. Phil would be home any minute now. I pressed on, forcing fresh thoughts into my mind, I thought about the weekend gone.
I had taken Phil to the ice. He had opted for Golf but I insisted. I needed to get back out there. He still had it, god knows he can skate. Moving about upright, tall, and slender, making elegant incisions as he pushed forward. I almost envied how he skated; I wondered if ten years of high contact hockey had afforded me the ability to skate with such graceful languid outward strides. I found myself low with heavy shoulders; acting instinctively; I would tense as I approached the boards and prepare to cut in as I reached either end of the neutral zone. He could have been anything he wanted Phil, anything at all. But, he was happy and his life was good – for now anyway.
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