Killing Kate Read online

  I was only here once after I finalized the transfer of property tax forms and received the key from Drake’s office, not even from Drake, but from Debbie, his secretary. Upon closer inspection, the house looks worn out, despite the freshly mowed lawn and trimmed bushes. It’s fitting, and kind of how Jack looked at the funeral inside of his casket. Even though I quit my job at Appleseed last week, much to Alicia’s dismay, there was still $50,000 at Devin’s and my disposal which would go toward some renovations in the house. I plan to find a part time job and go to school with the rest of the money. Or at least that’s what Devin is under the impression I’m going to do. I’m not sold on the idea of school just yet, and I’m afraid I might freak out or jump out a window or something in the middle of a lecture. Devin was trying to help me find a job by telling me about local daycares and malls that were looking for help, but I was more inclined to apply at Polekatz, the local strip club. We’d already had an argument over it.

  “Fuck, Jenna, why do you insist on doing such degrading things to yourself?”

  “Because I’m unskilled and will make more money that way,” I told him.

  Devin arrives with burgers and fries and we scarf them down like lions after a kill. Then we get to work and spend another three hours unloading the truck, even though after my meal I just want to nap. I take frequent smoke breaks and Devin joins me a few times. “The worst part about moving in with you is that I’m going to start chain smoking again,” Devin says and I punch him on the arm. “But it’s totally worth it to hang out with my cheerful and sweet sister,” he adds sarcastically for Justin’s hearing benefit. Justin grins at us and I find myself glancing at his arms as he lifts a heavy box. Damn, he’s strong, I think.

  Since we have the truck for another day and we’re losing daylight we decide to call it a night, having spent the bulk of our day loading and unloading a truck. I’m exhausted and just want to crawl into bed and die, but I know I am expected to follow through with the dinner plan. Justin drives us over to his mother’s house, another bungalow that is much better maintained than the house and about ten minutes from us. The minute the three of us walk in the door we are bombarded with Louisa Fiero, who is five feet nothing, with white hair piled on her head in a huge bun. She smells like bread and garlic, which I inhale as she hugs and kisses me on both cheeks. I adore her immediately. She graciously accepts the bottle of mediocre red wine we purchased last minute and ushers us into her kitchen to goad us into feasting upon fresh baked rolls and butter. I swear she churned it herself; it’s like no butter I’ve ever purchased before at the grocery store, which has probably happened twice in my life, but still.

  Justin looks odd and out of place in his own childhood home. His parents are both short and stocky while he is tall and extremely fit. He’s not skinny and bony like Devin and me and looks like he actually bothers to work out and take care of himself. The home is modest and lived in while he is clean cut and fresh. But the family resemblance is obvious. He has his mother’s bright green eyes and his father’s strong jaw and straight, kind of long nose. His father, Joe Fiero, is retired from working for forty two years as a Chicago Police detective and says very little but smiles a lot. Louisa does all of the talking for him and even though I can’t cook, she immediately accepts me into her kitchen and has me chopping zucchini and tomatoes and garlic for a quick bruschetta.

  “So are you glad to be back in the neighborhood?” Louisa asks Devin and me over copious amounts of pasta and yet more bread and a huge green salad. I can barely breathe I’m so stuffed full of food, but for some reason I keep eating because everything tastes so good. “It’s been so long since you’ve been back.”

  “Ma, they just moved today,” Justin says. “They haven’t had much time to decide if they’re glad to be back in the neighborhood, I’m sure.”

  “Hush, Justin. How was the move? Did everything go well? Do you need more bread, Jenna?” she asks me. I get the idea that Louisa loves to ask questions but doesn’t really need to hear the answers. Before I can say no, another huge roll is on my plate. “How’s the house? Did your father leave it in good condition?”

  Devin manages to answer this one because my mouth is stuffed full of tastiness. “It’s in good condition, but it needs a bit of work,” he replies. “Jenna wants to gut the bathroom and put in a fancy shower and I’d like to get new appliances in the kitchen.”

  “You kids and your fancy gadgets,” Louisa says. “I was just telling Joe about how for fifty years we haven’t needed a microwave and everyone has a microwave. Does your kitchen have a microwave?”

  I grin and Devin responds, “Yes, I believe it does have a microwave.”

  “So it’s very up to date!” Louisa says, clapping her hands. She sighs and peers over at me, making me slightly uncomfortable. “Jenna,” she starts, “you are so beautiful. I always knew you’d be gorgeous.”

  “Um, thank you,” I say. I look at Devin who shrugs and looks down at his plate. Justin is smiling at me queerly. I turn as red as the sauce.

  “You take after your mother, I mean before she…” Louisa trails off and my color fades completely until I’m as white as the tablecloth.

  “Ma!” Justin looks alarmed and I decide it’d be a good time to pipe up.

  “It’s alright, Justin,” I say. “Thank you Mrs. Fiero.”

  “Louisa, please, dear.”

  “Louisa.” I know what Louisa is hinting at. I’d seen enough pictures to know that my mother looked just like me before she let herself go. And by letting herself go I mean pretty much the same path I’m headed down now, where nothing matters except where your next drink comes from. Christ, is this dinner going to become a wakeup call? Am I in an intervention? I look at everyone at the table, who seems to be engaging in their meal and decide I’m being paranoid.

  “How is your mother?” she asks. “Still with that man? What was his name? Fred?”

  “Frank,” Devin and I say simultaneously. Devin clears his throat and says politely. “She’s deceased, Mrs.…Louisa.”

  Louisa says. “Oh my, I had no idea. How did she…?”

  “Food poisoning,” I tell her. It had been exactly that, though it probably wouldn’t have killed her so fast had she not been dehydrated to begin with. Alcoholism…the Parker family’s leading killer.

  “Oh, how terrible,” Louisa says, though Devin and I think our parents’ passing is really anything but terrible. I personally can’t imagine two more deserving people. “You two come by my house anytime, do you understand? I want you two over every week unless you’re dying on the side of the road.”

  “Yes ma’am,” I say, casting a smile and glancing at Justin, who looks completely flabbergasted and not half as amused as I happen to be by his mother’s antics. I think he’s embarrassed, yet Louisa is the kind of mother I would be proud to call my own. People don’t seem to realize that while everyone finds their parents embarrassing, it’s much better than finding them revolting or glad they’re dead.

  *

  I stand on the porch smoking and Justin is sitting outside keeping me company. Devin is inside talking to Louisa about how she makes her tomato sauce and I realize he has found a second home even before we are completely moved in to ours. “What are you thinking about?” I hear Justin say.

  “Me?” I ask, which is silly since no one else is here. “I’m debating whether if I completely vomited out that meal if it’d be worth it to start eating that much all over again.”

  He laughs. “Ma can really overdo it,” he says. “I’m sorry she asked about…your mom.”

  I shrug. “No reason to be sorry. Both of my parents drank themselves to death and I can’t say I’m too upset about it.” When she checked into the hospital, they found her blood alcohol level to be on par with someone who had been seeped into formaldehyde.

  “What about Frank?” Justin asks. “Your stepfather?”

  I think about Frank. Poor Frank. “Heart attack two years ago,” I tell Justin. “He was a good
guy.” I look at him and see he’s staring. “I don’t really like to talk about family, so let’s not, okay?”

  Justin nods, satiated for now. “I’m…glad you’re back in town, Jenna. I missed having friends around here.”

  I smile and I’m charmed by his confession. “It’s good to know we have a friend…and family. Your home is wonderful. Your parents are wonderful. You’re lucky, Justin,” I say. I feel a bit sad for saying it, though, and he can tell.

  “I hope you come to realize that it’s your family,” he tells me. “Seriously, if there’s anything you need, anything at all, you just come by or call or whatever.”

  I nod. “Sounds good.” We are interrupted by Devin coming outside. He takes my cigarette out of my hand and takes a drag and tosses it far away into the street. “I wasn’t finished,” I say.

  “Time to cut back,” he says. “Say your goodbyes,” he tells me. “I’m exhausted and Louisa wants to say goodnight to you.”

  “Okay…” I say, reluctant to leave the cool night air and go back inside to where I’m reminded of more food. But Devin is right, and I’m exhausted as well. “I’ll be right back.”

  I walk into the kitchen and Louisa is packing up leftovers into Tupperware containers. She smiles when she sees me come in. “I’m packing this for you so you have something to eat until you settle in. I hear you don’t drive so if you want I can take you grocery shopping if Devin is at work and you need food.”

  “That’d be nice,” I say. She is so nice to me, and I feel a lump in my throat just looking at someone who is actually a mother. Not someone who gave birth and had to tolerate children who are merely related to her, but someone who took the time to nurture and love her child and make sure they were equipped to survive.

  Louisa sighs. “I’m glad you’re back, Jenna. You were just a child when you left to live with your mother, and while I didn’t know your mother long, I knew enough to know she wasn’t your salvation from whatever was going on in that house with your father.” My eyes are getting wide. Where is she going with this? And what the fuck does she know? I hold on to the counter, grateful that there is something between Louisa and me to not conceal that my knees are shaking. She looks concerned and pats my hand. “You can come over anytime, Jenna.” She pushes the bag of leftovers to me and all I can do is take the bag and wander out of the kitchen, stunned.

  “Let’s go,” I mutter to Devin and we walk to Justin’s car. Devin and Justin have been talking on the porch but they are quiet on the ride home and seem curiously wary of me. I just want to get back to the house, and I want to crawl into my bed with Kate and let her hold me while I cry, but for now I am a stone statue, and don’t let anything show, because I don’t want anyone to know that I’m broken.

  Chapter 8

  I wake up when the shadow casts over my face. Devin is standing there, and he looks pissed. “What the fuck, Devin?”

  “What the fuck, Jenna?” he retorts back to me. I sit up slowly and shake my head and realize what he’s talking about. Shit, I think, I guess Kate went out last night. I can smell the alcohol fumes emanating from my pores. I’m dressed in only an oversized t-shirt, and it’s not mine. In the mirror tilted against the wall across from my bed I can see black eye makeup running down to my cheekbones. Not a pretty sight. I bite my red stained lip to keep from sobbing. Leaving the house as Kate and being completely unaware of it terrifies me. Kate doesn’t normally leave, she just does crazy shit at home. I wonder if my new living situation is what brought on her idea to leave the house. I look at my phone and don’t see any outgoing calls. Either she deleted everything or she just went out.

  I stand up and make my way for the bathroom, and Devin grabs my shoulder to stop me. “Jenna, what can you tell me about last night? This is bad.”

  “I know it’s bad!” I practically scream at him, visibly startling him. “Do you think I fucking like my body being taken over for whatever purpose she has for the moment?” He shrinks back and for a second I feel happy that he feels bad. He’s making me feel terrible. Moving in together was his awful idea, and I decide to make him realize it. “Did I fucking ask Jack to use me for his personal kiddie porn sex slave so I could spend the rest of my adult years trying to figure out how the fuck to grow up?”

  Devin grabs my arms and gives me a shake. “Calm down, Jenna. Let’s talk this out.” He turns his head away from me. Oh god, is he crying? No, no, no.

  “I need a shower,” I say and shrug his hands off of my arms. “I stink.” He backs away and nods. Just like I’m a child, he leads me into the bathroom, and I don’t say anything. For us, this is slightly routine, though we’re out of practice. He sits me down on the toilet and turns on the shower. Just like old times. Except now he leaves the room. We’re not kids anymore.

  “Shower,” he tells me. “And brush your teeth. Then come to the front room and talk to me. I’ll make you an omelet, okay?” He sounds much calmer now, but I know he’s coddling me. I don’t really care, I just want to get clean and assess the damage without Devin breathing down my neck. He closes the door behind him and I pull my shirt off and step in to the shower. I turn the water all the way on hot.

  There are bite marks on my thighs, which I also note are sticky with semen, much to my dismay. My breasts are raw and scratched, and there is a thumb print bruise on the side of my hip. Wonderful, I think. Guess I’ll have to hold off on that interview at Polekatz. I’m only partially being sarcastic. I’m also familiarly sore in certain places that I know Devin shouldn’t know about, so I’m grateful he stepped out so he doesn’t hear my sharp intake of breath when I put soap somewhere that stings.

  Once I am scrubbed and clean and donned in a fluffy grey bathrobe I paddle off in fuzzy purple slippers to the kitchen and sit at the counter. Immediately a fluffy golden omelet shows up in front of me and I add salt and pick up my fork and begin to devour it. Devin stands on the other side of the counter, waiting for me to finish so he can lecture me. I watch as he stares straight ahead toward me but not looking at me. I know Kate bothers him, but I think it bothers him more that he can’t blame or shout at anyone presently in the room. It’s not his immature sister being stupid, it’s his psychotic sister possessed by her promiscuous self. Part of me has always secretly felt like Devin truly believes Kate is my fault, but he has never said so, and I’m afraid to ask.

  “How bad?” is the first thing he asks me. I know he wants to hear everything I just discovered in the bathroom, but I can’t risk him taking me to a doctor or emergency room and getting admitted when they hear about how I’m crazy and off my meds and a potential harm to myself. I know he wants to hold me and stop me from letting Kate do anything else to me. I know he wants to lock me up in the psychiatric ward of Cook County hospital. But of course, all I can do is lie and say is “Not too bad.”

  “What happened last night?” he wants to know. I go over the details in my mind first and Devin says, “Stop, Jenna. Say it out loud before you plan out a different story that won’t piss me off.”

  “Stop yelling.”

  He sighs. “I’m not yelling. I’m talking to you in a normal tone.”

  “You’re mad at me!” I blurt out.

  Devin’s jaw begins to clench. “No, Jenna, I’m not mad at you. I’m mad, yes. I’m fucking pissed as hell, okay? You have to let me be that. You know I’m pissed, but it’s not at you.”

  “Right now I’m the reason you’re pissed and it makes me feel like shit,” I tell him. “I feel like shit because I have no control. Even when I’m myself I have no control. People say things and do things, Devin, and I can’t stop them.”

  “You were different last night when you came out of Justin’s house after talking to his mom,” Devin says. “What happened?”

  “Nothing,” I tell him. He looks like he doesn’t believe me. “I don’t know. I talked to Louisa,” I say finally. “She mentioned Jack.”

  “So?” he says, his eyebrows touching together in confusion. “She mentioned Jack
during dinner and you were fine.”

  “I mean she mentioned something about…what Jack was like.”

  Devin sighs. “Okay,” he says. “But how did that trigger Kate? You were fine until we got home. You were fine when we went to bed.”

  “I wasn’t fine, Devin,” I tell him. “I was holding back. When I fell asleep I guess I lost control.” I can see is the look on Louisa’s face when she said to me “whatever was going on in that house with your father”. She knew more than she was saying, and I was truly uncomfortable with that. If people knew what was happening, why didn’t they stop it?

  The day they took Jack away, Devin and I sat on the sofa and watched as the cops tore through our old house, our first house. Stuffing was pulled out of pillows and mattresses, drawers opened and clothing strewn everywhere. I don’t know what they were looking for, but they never found it. What they did find was a brick of cocaine and got Jack for possession and intent to distribute. At his trial apparently they got enough people to say that he sold them drugs to put him away for fifteen years, and he got out in eight. Jack had a finger in every pie, but he probably never thought cocaine would be the final straw. They never got to bust him for anything that they really wanted to. I got to talk to a social worker as did Devin. They knew I was getting raped but they didn’t have proof, and proof is what they needed to put him away for a very long time.

  After that we lived with Frank and Mom. What our mom lacked in parenting skills we got through Frank, and besides getting knocked around a bit by our mom when she had too much to drink, those were the happiest moments of my entire childhood.

  I look up at Devin and push my plate away. I know he hurts right now, maybe more than I do. He is waiting for me to tell him it’s okay. “Come here,” I say and hold my arms out. Within seconds his arms are around me and I am letting him cry into my wet hair. “It’s okay, it’s okay,” I whisper and we sway a bit. I think it comforts both of us. I would never tell anyone about these things that we have to do, holding on to each other for dear life or else we might be lost. We stay like that for a few minutes and don’t say anything. I ponder whether this is our life now, a brother and a sister living together like an old married couple in separate bedrooms, sharing our past and all of our secrets.