Kate looked down at her mother and then at Jenner, both looked horrified. In the past, she might have felt ashamed, but now she felt liberated. “I’m sorry,” she said with a careless shrug. “I’m not fine with this. I mean honestly, there has to be at least forty or fifty other photographers in Austin, and this is who you pick,” Kate called out loudly, pointing in Sam’s direction. “The only photographer I had sex with and then didn’t have the decency to visit me once when I was dying in the hospital. Yeah ladies, that is the kind of guy Sam is. Just go ahead and ask—he will probably fuck you too.”
At that point, it felt rude to stick around so Kate made her dignified exit with her head held high. Unfortunately, she belatedly realized that she had forgotten to bring her purse and keys. Kate half-considered going back inside for them but decided to get out while the getting was good as her dear Nana Linda was so fond of saying. Besides, a scene like that would bust the liveliest party.
Walking past the back lot, she crossed over a small bridge. Halfway across she stopped and looked down at the nearly dried-up stream that separated the convention center from the neighborhood park. She waited for the remorse to creep in, but discovered that if this was guilt she was feeling, it was one of the sweetest trips she ever made. As if she had shed a heavy ton of bricks from her soul, she felt lighter and freer than she had in months. It felt good to proclaim that Sam was an asshole. Her better self needed to say it aloud.
Kate had no doubt that she would be hearing about this for years to come. On her seventy-fifth birthday, her family would say, “Remember that time at Jenner’s wedding tea…” Kate could live with it because she honestly felt Jenner should have known better. She understood that this was Jenner’s big day, but that didn’t mean she should be allowed to selfishly override everyone else’s feelings.
Kate’s outfit today was just another classic example. Wearing a pastel-violet shift dress with matching pumps and a gardenia in her hair, Kate felt like an Easter egg. She pulled the flower from her hair and tossed it into the stream. Next, she removed the hideous shoes—seriously, who wears pastel pumps?—and threw them as far as she could. She was exhilarated by her brave wardrobe protest until she crossed the wooden bridge and her feet touched the pea-gravel path that had heated under the warm Texas sun. Suddenly, she dashed towards the grassy patch, which wasn’t quite as hot but felt a little prickly.
This wouldn’t do at all. Kate found an abandoned park bench sitting under the shade of a large tree and moved swiftly towards it. Sitting down, Kate looked out and saw that the park was speckled with families all enjoying the pleasant day. In the distance, she spotted an adorable miniature pincher running determinately her way with her purple pump in its month. The sweet-natured dog dropped the shoe at her feet. Kate reached to pet the darling dog. Not only was she well-trained, she also must have a very fashion-conscious owner. She had two pink bows in her ears, a rhinestone collar, and even her nails were painted with a French manicure. She was the perfect little lady dog. Wait a minute—a little too perfect. Kate looked up and saw Sam coming her way with the other pump in his hand.
“Lose something?”
“You painted the dog’s nails?” Kate asked with disbelief.
Sam sat down beside Kate and then made a clicking sound with his tongue. The dog jumped up and settled down in his lap. “It is a formal occasion. I couldn’t have her looking shabby. Loved the toast, by the way. I thought it was fantastic how you went away from all the canned responses. Could have been a bit more rehearsed, but your sincerity made up for it.”
“Thank you,” Kate spat drily.
“Except, it wasn’t exactly true. I did go to the hospital.”
“How kind of you,” Kate shot back sarcastically.
“And waited. After your procedure, Dr. Markson told me that my job was to keep you as calm and stress free as possible. Basically, you were to avoid any strong emotional reactions, and it occurred to me that in the short time I had known you I had caused more stress, anxiety, and highly charged emotional states than probably most people in your life. It was a decision, in retrospect a bad one, but I didn’t want to break your heart, literally speaking. And I thought life would be more tolerable just knowing you were still in it even if you weren’t with me.”
“Was it more tolerable?”
“Not really,” Sam admitted.
Kate looked away. Instead of facing Sam, she watched a young family of three. The flustered parents were trying to console the young toddler who had just lost his red balloon. Looking up, Kate watched the wind carry the globe further and further up, until it became just a dot of red against the blue sky. How fitting. How easy it is to lose something we love by letting it slip through our careless fingers.
“That was six months ago. Where have you been, Sam?”
“Well, after I left the hospital, I decided to get drunk. I came to a few days later in Amsterdam of all places. I spent a few months partying my way across Europe, and two months ago I woke up in a strange apartment, which was filled with people I didn’t know, in New York City. I couldn’t remember crossing the Atlantic Ocean either time. When I went to the bathroom, I saw my reflection in the mirror. I looked like hell and felt even worse. In a moment of weakness, I phoned Jenner to ask about you. For the next hour or so, she ripped into me. Given my condition, her shrill scream was actually quite painful. But eventually she calmed down and told me she was getting married and that if I wanted to see you again I could do her wedding—for free, of course. I would have called you sooner, but I had to get clean first.”
“You took a two-month long shower?” Kate jeered.
“No,” Sam answered with a self-deriding snort. “I had to go back to rehab. I started using again, Kate.”
Kate looked at him wearily. She wasn’t sure what to say. She remembered those first few months after she had been released from the hospital when a lap across the living room had left her exhausted for hours. While she was fighting with every last drop of strength to get healthy, Sam was hell bent on destroying himself. She wasn’t angry, or even disappointed, but sad, very, very sad for him. She had no doubt that his moment of weakness had saved his life. Like the silly balloon, clutched tight in your grasp one moment only to swallowed up by the heavens the next.
He had said that he thought life would be tolerable just knowing she was still in it. Kate once again searched the sky. With her hand over her brow to shield the glare, she stared into the endless blue. She tried to imagine how she would have felt getting that dreaded telephone call, or opening the newspaper and seeing his obituary. Every incarnation, better self or not, would have been devastated.
“Are you clean now?”
“Eight weeks sober,” Sam answered and then admitted, “which doesn’t sound nearly as impressive as seven years.”
“The dog?” Kate asked.
“I met her in rehab. They say you’re not supposed to form those kinds of relationships there, but she had been sorely neglected by her junkie owner. Princess, his name not mine, wasn’t allowed there, but one of his family members snuck her in on visiting day. He bailed a few days later and left her behind, and we just sort of grew on each other.”
“I know I screwed up, Kate, and I regret that more than I can ever explain, but I miss you a lot. I just want to be a part of your life in whatever fashion you can accept.”
“I don’t know, Sam,” she answered indecisively. It was an impossible decision she never imagined making. It would be so easy to forgive and forget, but could she ever trust him again? Life is messy, accidents happen, people get ill, clearly she wasn’t immortal, and she couldn’t tolerate him running away every time something bad happened. On the other hand, if she said no, was she prepared to close that door forever? It seemed like such a heavy choice to be making on such a lovely day.
“I understand,” he said solemnly.
“I have this wedding coming up in a few weeks. Contrary to what my mother eluded to, I don’t have a date. If you�
��re free, you could come with me,” Kate said.
“I could arrange something,” Sam agreed with a smile.
“Just so you know, I will be wearing another gorgeous pastel creation, only with a few more ruffles,” Kate cautioned.
“Hmm, that is a lot to ask. Will you be wearing these fantastic, orthopedic pumps too?” Sam asked as he put the shoes down by her feet.
“Unfortunately, yes, given that I am still maid-of-honor. My status is questionable at the moment. ”
“Then, I’m in,” Sam said.
Dear Readers,
Thank you for reading HOOK, LINE, and GARTER. I truly hope you enjoyed reading Kate and Sam’s story as much as I enjoyed writing it.
I originally wrote this novel a little over a decade ago. It may never have been written if it not for one fateful day when I was shopping with my mother-in-law at a very popular department store.
I live in an average-sized town in the Midwest. Around these parts, we do have transvestites—I think? You just don’t see them out and about, in the middle of the day, at one of the busiest shopping centers in town. So, I was waiting in line and I noticed people whispering and gawking around me. Then I saw her. Now, so many years later, I honestly can’t remember what she looked like, but I do remember thinking she was incredibly brave. And Sam was born.
Once I was finished writing the story, I was literally finished. In fact, I went back to college to pursue a teaching certification. Three years ago, I started writing again. Last summer, I published my first novel under a different pseudonym and was working on the sequel until a couple of months ago. Sam started pestering me again. I thought I would just take one night off, I always write at night, and play around with it. Well—one night turned into a novel.
All right, the ending? Cynthia, my editor, told me it felt unfinished. That is because it isn’t. Unfortunately, I couldn’t finish their story without Willow, and I could not tell you about Willow without telling Hannah’s story, which is coming very soon.
If you want to chat, you can find me on Facebook at www.facebook.com/rachael.james.52643.
Best wishes,
R.J.
Hook, Line, and Garter (Bitches and Queens) Page 17