Three Scenes from Katy's Life

The bench I sit on is swollen, the wood worn by many rainstorms. A few feet away sits another couple on their bench. The leaves shimmer in the soft light of autumn sunshine. Birds twitter. Ground strewn with leaves.
Autumn of my understanding. Like the tawny apples in the orchard up the road, hanging, falling, swaying with the light breeze. Will those apples one day return to the ground to enrich the soil or fill the belly of a hungry animal? Will they cling, green and sour, to familiar branches?



Cream cheese in a plastic blue bowl. I take a spatula and swirl in the sticky sweetened milk. I crack an egg, it falls with a soft plop into the cream cheese, the golden yolk breaking gently and spreading into the surrounding firm whiteness. The mixture puts up a gentle resistance as I move the spatula, my muscles contracting in a rhythmic motion. The kitchen is cluttered, measuring cups strewn across the stovetop, the sink overflowing with dishes from last night's potato soup. The kitchen feels like exhaustion. But I am separate, as I continue mixing, transfixed by the gold and white in my light blue bowl, swirling, mixing, becoming one. 


The dark is almost tangible. The night is warm, but my skin is cold and clammy. My eyes are crusty with the day's work, but they find no rest, searching in the darkness for shapes and shadows, hoping they will morph into recognizable forms. A few feet away, I hear her gentle, whistling snore. It is the only sound in this dark, lonely room. In, out... In, out... In, out... My muscles suddenly seize. My lungs catch, my jaws freeze. The blanket feels heavier than usual, restrictive. It holds me down. And now, there are new noises in addition to the snoring. Laughing, it seems like. A man's voice. It is getting closer. I hear a key turning. Click. I am confused. Why can't I breathe?? The blanket is getting heavier. I am  being crushed beneath its weight. With all of the strength I can muster, I wrench myself upright, pushing the blankets off of me, and let out a strangled gasp. Silence.