If I had to describe Kate... and you'll have to indulge me here - for if I gave her a flippant description, it wouldn't be ethical, you see. I have to rely on the abstract, and the magic that can only be gained when you blur the lines. Yes, that feels right. So...
I'd say she is like the afternoon rain - refreshing but brisk. Bound to make you sick if you're under her influence for an unwise period of time. And wisdom is a subjective thing.
She hates it when I say this, but her hair is like fresh autumn leaves. Beautiful but brittle to the touch. Her face... well, I warned you I am indulgent: is like the sun. Bright, intimidating, magnetic - liable to hurt you if you stared at it long enough. And her touch... like that of a priest, or courtesan's - this is for a magazine, you said? Well, redact that last line, will you? Thanks.
Above all, was her wit; sharper than any blade with a tongue that wielded it like a master swordsman. We used to talk for days, holding hands, not wanting to let go. We still do.
Our first meeting was fated, destined, or however else you would describe an act of providence.
It was the inaugural night of college and I was checking out a local pub with some buddies. Unbeknownst to me, she was healing wounds with a now mutual friend in the parking lot. As we left the pub I saw her leaning on my car. What type of car? Why does that even matter? Where was I... Ah, yes. She approached me - if you ask her today, she'll say I approached her - but that's just the playfulness of women.
"You got a cig?" Her face said she wanted to punch me.
"You got some manners?" I was proud of that one, earned me a chuckle from the mates. "My car better not be scratched."
"Why? You plan on selling the hunk of junk?"
"What if I am?"
She proceeded to spit the hood of the car. Twice. "Cleaned it for you." She smiled and the world stilled. "Substantially."
Now, at this time, I need you to remember I was well and properly drunk.
"You pampered little brat. Someone needs to teach you some -"
She kicked me in the balls. Strangely, I don't remember the pain, just her laughter as she ran away.
The next time I saw Kate was in the faculty cafeteria, or was it that coffee shop down the street from the university? You'll have to ask her. But, I know I sat alone waiting for someone when she approached me.
"Got a cig?"
I said nothing, too confused by her brazen tone. Out of curiosity, I gave her one of my Camel Lights. She took it. Left.
"Hey!" I shouted after her.
"What do you want?"
"How about some gratitude?"
"Humpf. Yeah? For what?"
"For not reporting aggravated assault?"
"That's your problem."
The third time was at the football field, I'm sure of it. I was by the bleachers waiting for a friend to finish practice. Again, she walked up to me, as nonchalant as she would today.
"You still riding that camel?"
At this point, I just wanted her to leave. She did not look at my proffered pack, however. Instead, she burnt me like the dwarf star that she is.
"Humpf. What happened to those manners you were touting? You forgot them in your so-called, what was it again? Car?"
I tried and failed to stifle my chuckle. "Yeah, you got me, the camel is the one driving. I just ride the hump."
"Which one?" She asked without missing a beat.
I looked at her then, truly and fully. "The empty one."
An eyebrow nudge, a lip curl. "Which one would that be?"
"The one you're not sitting on."
Right? Back then, I was what the young kids would call smooth. She slapped me, but not too hard. I smiled at her when she turned to look at me over her shoulder. I knew I was in love.
After that - bear with me here - she became like the wind. Impossible to see or catch, yet certain to sting when you least expect it. The first such natural encounter was at a house party in the hills:
I was once more intoxicated and ready to leave when I saw her. In the kitchen and on some douche's lap. Now, accounts of this story vary, but I'll give you the real. She sat there, yeah? This guy feeling her up or whatever - and she winked at me.
I, naturally, approached. The guy did not take kindly to that. "You want something, bud?"
"Yeah, you messing with my girl, bud?" I was less confident than I sounded; this guy was two years older and a jock. I was and still am, an intellectual.
"You real funny man." His posture said I was no threat. "Leave us, dude, what do you want?"
"How about some gratitude?" They both looked at me.
"Huh?" Trust me, he was as dumb as he sounds. "I know you?"
"You might know my dad, officer Lawrence? Very dutiful to his job. Especially for his son's girlfriend."
"Yeah, right." But I could see the fledgling fear in his eyes. I had no idea the guy was a small-time weed dealer, coupled with his peanut-sized brain yielded a "He yours?"
She says she spurned him for the fun of it. "Yeah. Sorry." I know she did it to save my soft ass from a hard ass-kicking. The guy mumbled something, left the kitchen. Kate's look mimicked a curious cat. "Girlfriend? Yeah, no. Sorry." She opened the window next to the fridge, sat on its base - one foot in, one foot out. "Your pops really a cop?"
He wasn't. She knew that. But Kate loves her rhetorical questions. "What you think?" As in many things, I share her sentiment.
We would see each other in passing, always with some jibe or wisecrack attached. I enjoyed those times. Getting to know her sense of humor was the most fun I had in my life. Kate would say I was annoying at the time.
Not sure how that would differ from today, but I digress.
Our next meeting was at the local library. I was deep in a study session when I heard someone bleating over my head. I looked up to an expressionless Kate.
"Hello? What was that?"
"A camel."
"That's not what camels sound like, Kate."
"Yes. It. Is. Mat. Just louder. Or did you forget we're in my mom's library? Honestly, I thought that you were smarter than -"
An aggressive "Shhhhh." floated through the bookshelves.
Kate flared her nostrils. This, I didn't know at the time, was synonymous with: danger, danger, run away right now before your face gets burned off.
The fool that I was could not contain himself, however. "How about you show this house of learning some respect, young lady?"
If you want the details of what happened next you'll have to ask Kate personally. I'm not in the liberty of disclosing falsehoods. But I will divulge the outcome; I left the library, annoyed and banned - she remained, pleased and untouched. Years later she told me her mom berated her for the incident. "At-the-time Mat" was not privy to this information, so he stayed annoyed and refused to talk to the library owner's pampered daughter.
My first impression of her was correct. She was a brat, and I vowed to never speak to her again.
Until the weekend came and we were at another of our friends' parties.
She grabbed my elbow, pecked my cheek. Removed the library incident in the process.
"Hello, boyfriend." Kate's breath brushed my ear. "Walk with me camel-boy. Talk about your fake-cop dad or something."
"Lookie here, boys. The skank found herself a puppet." The voice belonged to Jack Harshaw. Jack had changed several schools before unjustly getting a scholarship at out university. He was rich, tough, and not stupid. Unfortunately.
I knew these things, but my mouth was faster. "What did you call her?"
"Ha! She's already pulling its strings! Hey guys - oof."
To this day, I am ashamed of my actions. Not sure if it was Kate's influence under my arm, the alcohol, or just plain stupidity.
But I kicked Jack in the balls, grabbed Kate, and ran. She couldn't stop laughing for hours.
We sat at a nearby park bench. We had wine, and berries, and wit enough for the entire neighborhood. We talked, we laughed. We stayed quiet and just listened to the birds. And listened. By the time we pried our hands apart, the sun was up and our hearts were one.
* * *
"Mr. Mat?"
"Uh, sorry, yes?"
"You spaced out, sir."
"Ah, well, that's the end of the story, son."
"Yes, I see." The young writer scribbled something in his book. "Sir? What happened with Jack? He didn't retaliate?"
"Jack?" Mat gave a hearty laugh. "For that, lad, you'll have to ask Kate yourself."
Mat was glad he agreed to the interview. The kid was gutsy to request it, but he was right. His wife's story should be shared with the world. They agreed to meet again the day after.
On his way back home, Mat decided to buy a pack of cigarettes. He stopped smoking decades back but felt nostalgic. Yes, the interview was a good idea.
Mat entered their home and almost tripped on a toy soldier. Samantha and Kylie were both in college now but their toys could still be found endangering the life of their father.
As he entered Kate's room, his smile turned solemn. "Guess what, you?" He placed the pack of Camel Light on the bedside drawer. "You remember these? I forgot we used to joke about these all the time, you remember?"
Mat sat next to her. Then got up, checked her vitals, her IV. He would have to call the nurse tomorrow. Her tubes needed maintenance.
"Oh, and Jack!" Mat guffawed as he sat back down. "Remember him?" She was silent, of course, and Mat couldn't stop the tears any longer.
"Yeah." He managed as he grabbed her hand. "You were always a bad influence on me."
He closed his eyes as the sounds of machines became birds.
Ok. phew, that one was hard, even for me. 😅 What you think 
I started this as if it was gonna be an Ink Well Prompt entry, but halfway through saw that my gardener/pantser tendencies have taken me in an entirely different direction. So I just rolled with it.
I tried a lot of new things here, and I hope my writing buddies (looking at you 
So yeah, any and all feedback is appreciated!
Thanks, and I hope everyone has an amazing weekend!
Image source.