Living with Katrina Ch. 10

Katrina's mind was reeling from the revelations. Brittany calmly sipped away on her drink.

"The outing was probably the wife's idea. Notice how they are sitting near that other couple beside the fountain. I would say, the husband worked with that guy before the crisis. The wife keeps shooting a periodic glance in their direction to see if they are looking back. Just to ensure that those people know how well they are doing. She needn't have bothered though."

"What?!" said Kat, clearly out of her depth.

"The other couple isn't perfect either. The husband has a facial tic from abusing over the counter medication. I'm ninety percent sure the wife is taking some of his pills on the side. They're here for the exact same reason as the other family. Give it a minute or so and one of them will finally pretend to recognize the other and go over to talk to them cheerfully. My bet is on Andy's Mom."

Katrina watched the two families spellbound. This whole thing seemed like a bizarre dream. After about five minutes, the other wife came and cheerfully greeted Andy's mother. They embraced after an initial look of surprise and went about performing the social niceties.

"Well, what do you know? I was wrong," shrugged Brittany casually.

"Should we go to the cops?"

"And tell them what?" was the dry reply. "We think the kid we saw in the park for ten minutes is being abused? Doesn't sound like a very compelling argument to me."

"Look at someone else in the park," said Katrina, desperate to convince Brittany that humanity was worth it.

Brittany casually browsed over the other couples, joggers and children around them.

"Serial adulterer," she said, passing her eyes over a woman.

"Alcoholic," was a man chatting with his friend near a news stall.

"Low self esteem, probable cutter," was a teenage girl listening to music as she walked past.

"Got laid off. Has huge debts."

"Tried to commit suicide recently. Thinking of trying it again."

"Lost his house. No insurance."

"Stores child porn on his tablet."

"STOP!"

Brittany turned in Katrina's direction. She was gasping and a thin layer of sweat shone over her face.

"Hey, you were the one who wanted me to see humanity. I just gave you ten minutes with my eyes and you already seem overwhelmed."

Katrina got up and raced off towards the public toilet. She made it to the sink before she retched out the entire contents of her stomach into it. Brittany leaned against the wall and watched her, mildly amused.

"See what emotions do? Imagine if I had them like you do. I'd never have a moment's peace in my life."

"You're wrong," insisted Katrina. "Not everyone is fucked up. Look at Jake. He deserves so much more than what life has given him. The least he deserves is a real human being for a sister. Instead he has you."

Brittany waited while Kat washed her face and wiped it.

"Is it worth it?"

Kat looked at her, bewildered.

"Having emotions. Is it worth it? Emotions make you so weak and vulnerable. Is the positive side of humanity worth it?"

"It is. I'm going to prove that to you. Call your car and driver."

"Where are we going?" Brittany asked.

"The only place where Jake thinks it's okay to be weak. I think you'll find your humanity there too."

* *

DEARLY BELOVED

HENRY JAMES GALLAGHER

MAY 7^th 1948 -- AUGUST 16^th 1987

Brittany looked at the headstone for a few long moments. Those simple words held more meaning to her than her logical mind could think up in that moment. She turned her gaze to the adjacent stone.

DEARLY BELOVED

LISA JOAN GALLAGHER

DECEMBER 9^th 1953 -- AUGUST 16^th 1987

The same line was written at the bottom of both of the headstones.

"Together at peace."

Brittany sat on her knees in front of the twin graves staring at them blankly. Katrina sat beside her and watched the side of her face intently. The consummate disdain from earlier was replaced with a look of nothingness.

There was a glowing ember of thought in Brittany's mind. It was a longing she could not quite place. She pursed her lips and gazed at the simple words carved into the marble. Logic told her she should feel something, but she didn't.

She didn't, despite how rational it seemed, grieve over her parents.

"What good do emotions do?"

Katrina put an arm on Brittany's shoulder and squeezed it gently. She knew better than anyone about emotion, an excess of emotion. Too much emotion was as much a problem as too little.

"They help you let out everything you have on the inside," she replied. "We're all like pressure cookers, boiling up inside. Emotions are the safety valve."

"I guess I've been boiling up for twenty five years now," Brittany said with a smirk.

Katrina turned to her right and saw a woman sitting on her knees, staring at a headstone. Her demeanour was stoic. She folded her arms around her torso, holding on gently.

"What do you think of her?" Katrina asked. Brittany looked at her with a tilted gaze for a few seconds.

"She's a war widow. Around five months pregnant."

"How do you know that?"

"The way she is sitting, the forced stoic expression and her protective arm around her belly," she said. "And I remember seeing a military title on that stone as we walked past."

"Don't you feel any empathy for her?" said Katrina, her own heart breaking at the sight of the forlorn woman putting a bouquet of flowers on her husband's grave.

Katrina turned to look at Brittany. The wheels behind Brittany's eyes were turning. Her mind was scouring her enormous vault of knowledge in search of "empathy". Try as she might, she drew an absolute blank.

Then it hit her all of a sudden.

Brittany looked closer at the pregnant woman. It was like looking into a mirror. This mystery woman's face betrayed no emotion. Every muscle in her face was taut with the effort of keeping herself prim. She wanted to break down and cry on the outside as well as the inside, but couldn't.

'She won't feel any emotion. I can't.'

Wordlessly, Brittany got to her feet. Katrina's wide eyes followed her. Brittany studied the expression on the war widow's face, before taking a confident stride in her direction. Katrina made a weak attempt at stopping her, before resigning herself to watching the spectacle.

She saw Brittany go to the woman. The woman looked up, surprised at her approach. Brittany knelt down beside her. Katrina was too far away to hear what was said. She looked on, uncertain what to expect. The two women spoke at length, Brittany more than the young widow. There was more than one occasion when Katrina saw a metaphorical spark fly, but it was defused just as quickly.

Katrina watched, growing more amazed by the second. Brittany continued speaking, the other woman listening in rapt attention. Brittany put her arm on the woman's shoulder and let it rest there for a while. The other woman lifted her palm to Brittany's arm and clutched it tightly.

The conversation continued; the woman's defences seemingly getting weaker. Brittany resolutely abstained from showing any sympathy, but she did smile more than once. It took a long while, but to Katrina's amazement, the woman lifted her other palm to her cheek to wipe a few tears. Brittany smiled and helped her stand up. They hugged tightly and the other woman left, looking lighter than before.

Brittany's eyes followed her new friend as she walked away and turned a corner out of sight. Katrina walked up to her, amazed and puzzled in equal measure. Brittany seemed not to see her. She continued staring ahead. She eventually spoke in a low voice.

"She comes from a family of war veterans. Her great grandfather was in Normandy, her grandfather in Vietnam, and her father in the Gulf War. All of them died in battle. She has seen generations of her family become widows to wars and yet, she could not resist the sharp man in uniform who asked her hand in marriage days before he was to be sent to Iraq. He promised he would come back safely."

Katrina listened, spellbound.

"Her mother taught her to be strong all her life, like she had been. Everybody in her family was strong, and hence they attracted strong men. She came here, like me, to try and be weak, but she couldn't. Her upbringing wouldn't let her be."

"That's... I'm..." Katrina stuttered helplessly for a few moments, unable to find something to fit the moment. "What did you tell her?"

"That I was one of the few people who could understand what she was going through. It hurts not to be able to grieve for a loved one."

Katrina gaped at her, coming to grips with her train of thought.

"Like me, she has no one left and that scares her. She sounds a lot like Aunt Claire. Too much like her."

"Brittany," said Katrina softly. "Are you scared?"

"Terrified."

"I know someone else who understands what it's like to be alone, how scary it is. I think the two of you need to have a long overdue talk now that you understand him."

She took out her phone and was about to tap the speed-dial before Brittany stopped her.

"What if I'm not ready?" she said.

"You have nothing to lose and a wonderful human being to gain," was the reply. "You'll know what to say."

Even as Brittany felt the first grips of anxiety of her life, Katrina made her phone call.

* *

Jake Gallagher had no idea what awaited him.

Even as he felt the last remnants of hangover dissipate, he received a cryptic phone call from Katrina. Her voice seemed forced into calm, but there was still a definite urgency in it.

It was where she called him from that befuddled him the most. His heart ached every time he went to see his parents' final resting place.

But he was going to go. After all, Katrina had asked him to.

He parked his car and leaned against it in silence. A few pedestrians walked past him. His eyes casually followed a funeral procession in the distance. The polished rosewood coffin shone, carried by sharply dressed men. A small group of mourners followed.

"Hi Jake."

He turned his head to the side to see Katrina standing beside him. She looked in his direction, her lips trembling and her eyes shimmering.

"Why did you call me here?"

"Jake," she began slowly. "Hear me out. There is someone in there who wants to talk to you. Just talk to you."

"Who?" he said, narrowing his eyes. Katrina looked earnestly into his eyes. He looked at her perplexed expression for some time. Slowly, realization dawned on him and he opened the door of his car.

"Jake, please. Don't go," Katrina said, tugging at his arm.

"Why?" he asked her, his voice exasperated. "Why her?"

"She wasn't brave enough to come outside. She's waiting for you inside."

"Forget it," he said, removing her hand. "Let's go back."

"Jake," Kat said, clutching his arm tightly. "You need to talk to Brittany. She has so much she wants to tell you, Jake."

"More than what she told me yesterday?" Jake asked. "More than what she told me my whole life?"

"Jake, honey, I know this is hard for you, but you have to do this," Katrina implored. "You need to do this. You're so strong, Jake. You're the only person I know who can go through with it."

He leaned against his car and took a deep breath.

"What does she want to say?"

"Talk to her," replied Kat, clutching his arm harder. "Please just talk to her. She's waiting for you."

"Why couldn't she have told this to me yesterday?" Jake said. "Somewhere in between the gloating, the demeaning and the humiliation."

"She's scared, Jake."

His head suddenly snapped up. He looked at Katrina's eyes, not daring to believe what he had just heard. The sentence made no sense.

"Yes, Jake, she's scared," Katrina said in a low voice. "She's scared because she doesn't know how to speak to you. It's easy to be cold and distant, infinitely harder to be human. She's just figuring it out. She needs your help. She needs you to be there for her."

"And what about all the times I needed her to be there for me?" said Jake, trying to keep the emotional overload out of his voice.

"Jake," Katrina beseeched, her eyes shimmering and her hands clasped together entreatingly. "This is something you need as well. You need to make peace with your past. Your past is in the cemetery, waiting for you. You can either embrace it or run away from it. You've been running from it for twenty five years. How about you try embracing it now?"

He exhaled a long sigh, with one hand leaning against the car.

"You're not letting me leave, are you?"

"Not this time," she said firmly.

He tossed her his keys and jacket.

"Here. Take these home," Jake said heavily. "I'll take a cab."

Katrina nodded. Jake surveyed the road before him, taking in the scenic beauty of the grassy landscape juxtaposed against the grim rows of tombstones marking the resting sites of scores of dearly departed souls.

In the midst of all those dead souls, two living ones would endeavour to find redemption in their own special ways.

"It's going to be all right, Jake. Just believe that you can do it."

"I haven't been able to for quarter of a century," he said with a wry smile.

"Just humour me and believe, will you?" Katrina said, slapping him on the back. "Now go."

* *

Brittany sat on the grass between the graves, her eyes set in the direction of the setting sun. The reddish halo from it seamlessly melted into the mauve tinge heralding the end of twilight. Jake observed her face from the side, seeing no trace of emotion. Yet, this emotionless face was more contemplative, in contrast to the haughty indifference from the day before.

He walked up to her and looked at her closely. The scene seemed strange, bordering on surreal. He had never imagined seeing his sister this way.

"Sit down, Jake."

Obediently, he sat beside her on the grass. She did not turn her head to face him. The reddish tinge painted her face. All in all, she looked surprisingly human.

"What do you..." began Jake, stopping when she put her hand up.

"16th August, 1987," she began again. "There were fifty eight automobile accidents in Manhattan. One of them happened in Union Square, the third in the year. This was also the ninety fourth accident caused by drunk driving in Manhattan for the year."

Jake looked at her, unable to hide his wonder. Finally, Brittany turned in his direction.

"Those were our parents, Jake. Reduced to mere statistics."

She paused to take a deep breath. The thoughts of the past several hours had aged her considerably. The load that weighed her down was heavier than it had ever been.

"It was so unfair, Jake. Our parents becoming figures for traffic data," she continued in a hollow voice. "It should have hurt me deeply, but it didn't. It should have made me cry till I could not cry any more, but it didn't. I just didn't, because in my mind, I knew that a road accident was logical. It was natural given that over forty six thousand people died in car accidents in 1987 in the United States alone. My mind just would not let me be emotional and that scared me.

"Then I saw their bodies. I can't explain it, but in that moment, I wanted to feel something, anything. I desperately wanted to feel a shred of grief. I was eleven, Jake, and I was scared that I did not love my parents enough to cry for them. I was scared that I wasn't human."

Jake sat, slack-jawed in amazement. Anybody else would have cried, but not his sister.

"I blamed you. To this day, I can't explain exactly why, but I chose to hold my little brother responsible. And I never let go of that feeling."

Brittany paused. Jake placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. She pretended it wasn't there, but still staunchly refused to show any emotion. She looked at him for a few long moments before speaking again.

"Aunt Claire is dead, Jake. The cancer finally got to her."

"What?!" he blurted out. All of a sudden, his heart burnt for the woman who had raised him, cruelly snatched away before he even got to say goodbye. His eyes went wide and she simply nodded.

"I'm sorry, Jake. I tried my best."

Jake was still stunned. The grief would come later, after the phase of shock and devastation passed.

"Her last wish was that I mend my relationship with you."

He was only vaguely aware of what Brittany said. A lesser man might even have cried.

"When I got off my Gulfstream yesterday, I wanted nothing more than to run out and hold you. To tell you to give us another chance, but..."

They looked at each other. Brittany placed a palm on Jake's thigh comfortingly.

"But... when I saw you, all that hatred came back. I think I finally know why it always comes back," she said, her tone quivering the tiniest amount. "It comes back because that hatred reminds me of our parents, and as tenuous a connection as it may be, that's all I have. It is the only thing that reminds me I'm human. Yesterday, I was the same person you knew all your life, because I was too scared to be anyone else. Today, I am trying to be that someone else, and that scares me even more. Just like Aunt Claire said it would."

Jake looked at her, his mind struggling to come to grips with this conversation. His world had been turned on its head in the past ten minutes.

"Mom and Aunt Claire were close, weren't they?"

He nodded listlessly in response.

"Mom was the elder sister she deserved. She was always there to help or comfort Claire. That is what an elder sister should be like."

Her palm moved from his thigh to his head, her fingers interlacing his hair.

"I know I am twenty five years too late, but can I still get to be that sister?"

Jake smiled. "It's never too late."

They looked at each other for a long time, the setting sun casting a slanted light over their features. Brittany was getting accustomed to being human, comforting would still take a while. Instead they smiled and he rested his head on her shoulder. Their hands locked together.

Somewhere, in a cosmic garden that science hasn't been able to find yet, they imagined that their parents and Aunt Claire were looking down and smiling at this sight. Brittany was sure such a place didn't exist. Jake was almost sure of the same thing. But imagining such a place made them feel just that little bit better.

"Did she suffer?" he asked softly.

"No. She slipped painlessly. I made sure of that."

"Did you cry?"

"I don't cry. It's unbecoming of me."

"Yeah. Me too," he sighed heavily.

* *

Katrina sat at the table. There was an empty glass and a bottle of bourbon, awaiting her. She needed it. She was about to pour herself a glass, when she heard her phone ring. It was Rhea Starling. The name on her caller screen suddenly jolted back the memory of the night she spent and the question dangling over her.

She sighed wearily and let the call go to voicemail. It was one more thing for her to think about, over and above everything else. Her head already hurt from the stress of it all.

"Should I go?"

The question hung in the air. She loved Jake, she knew she did with all her heart, but was it fair to her to wait all her life for him to love her back? For all she knew, he would never accept how he felt about her, let alone admit it.

Moreover, this was an amazing opportunity for her. A fresh start in a new art-scene, under the wing of a towering figure in the art world, artists would kill for less. A loving relationship with financial security. It was all there for the taking, yet...

"How will Jake take it?"

That was the most important variable. She could never leave him alone. But maybe he wouldn't be alone if he had his sister in his life. Maybe, it would finally give him the lift he needed to go out into the world and find someone. Someone who wasn't...