Killing Kate Read Free Page A

Devin is right now, particularly
with the news.
    My hands are shaking a little, and
the pit of my stomach feels empty and fluttery, but I call.  “Hey,” he answers.
    “Meet us for dinner?” I ask him.
    “Us?”
    “Me and Kate,” I say.  He is
silent.
    He sighs.  “I should have guessed
she’d be back,” he replies.  “Where?”
    “How about some Pho?” I ask him.  
I indicate the station closest to where I can get a bowl of Vietnamese hot beef
noodle soup.
    “Okay, in an hour?”  I tell him
I’ll leave after I shower and hang up.  I spend about ten minutes in the shower
washing my hair and body because I smell like sweaty cage dancer and I’m still
grimy from last night’s run at the beach.  After I step out I wrap a towel
around me and wrestle with a comb to get the snarls out of my hair.  It never
does what I want it to do, but it acts like a curtain and falls midway down my
back in a shiny brown sheet.  As long as I can detangle it sufficiently, I
don’t need to really do anything else besides let it air dry.  In the winter,
that would be insane, since it freezes in stiff strips but it’s a warm night. 
I should buy an air conditioner soon, I have a feeling it’s going to be a hot
summer.  For now I let the open windows air out the staleness that’s pervaded
my environment all winter long.  I look around at the clutter of shampoo and
lotions and makeup products in my bathroom and realize it extends throughout
the entire place and mentally note to spring clean as soon as I’m up for it. 
But tonight I’m going to see Devin and tomorrow I will be at my father’s
funeral.  At least it will be the last time I have to see Jack.
    *
    I’m dressed in faded skinny jeans
and a cap sleeved sheer white top with some light blue embroidery that I’d deem
a “hippie top”.   I got it from a little shop that sells dashikis, incense and nitrous
oxide if you know how to ask nicely.  I slip on some white flip flops and grab
my purse and phone and a fresh pack of smokes before I lock up and head over to
the El.  Kate follows me.  I smoke on the way to the Morris station, walking
past college kids who are out drinking too late on a Sunday evening, young
couples who haven’t yet figured out that they should really leave East Riverview
and move to the suburbs before they begin to breed, and the occasional drunk
and/or crack head.  I got mugged once walking down Morris and was out a cell
phone, so I’m glad it’s early, still somewhat light out and a short walk from
my apartment.  The station is empty and I ascend to the platform and light up
again.  As a general rule, the train comes faster if I am just starting a
cigarette, and lo and behold, it’s crawling up from the previous stop just as I
do.  I pitch the half smoked cigarette off the platform onto the street and
Kate and I get on the train.
    Devin is parked by the El and
leaning against his motorcycle.  I wave, walk over and give him a tentative
hug.  Kate hangs back.  “I wish you’d wear a helmet,” I say to him.
    “I wish you’d quit smoking,” is his
retort as I pull out my pack and begin to light another one.  He takes one for
himself.  Devin never buys cigarettes, but he’ll smoke them if they’re
available to him.  We walk together to Saigon Noodle, which is this weird
Vietnamese place that appears to simultaneously embrace and ignore the Vietnam
War by having their wait staff wear camouflage shirts and serving large bowls
of Pho from menus decorated with tanks and machine guns to white people and
Vietnamese people alike.  We sit and Devin and I order food.  Kate disappears
to give Devin and me some time alone.  “Jenna, I thought you had ended things
with Kate.”
    “She comes when I need her,” I tell
him, unable to meet his eyes.
    “You should get back on meds,” he
replies.
    “Devin,” I plead.  “I don’t want to
fight tonight.”   He leans back in his chair and scrunches
up his face in the