Chapter 13

Katherine Gold walked up the steps of her front porch, crossed the veranda, and placed her hand on the knob.  She paused.  Her mind was hit with the vision that likely waited to greet her.  For months it has been the same thing and decomposing with each day.  Her once bold and principled and courageous husband spent is days shuffleing through the house like a shadow, sometimes not gaining enough energy to change from his bed clothes to something appropriate to be seen out of doors.  Evan forgot his razor more than not and would often sit in his wingback chair and stare out the back window.

This was not the man she married.  Katherine was at her wits’ end.  It was not right that she should shoulder the burden of the house and she’d made so many excuses to her friends about why Evan wasn’t at this or that function, that they’d stopped asking about him.

But today was going to be different, she told herself.  She’d had a revelation at her Book-of-the-Month club meeting, and she was going to think positively.  It could take a while, but she was determined to prop this man up if it killed her.

Katherine took a settling breath, twisted the knob, and walked in the house.  What she had pictured was what she saw.  Staring out the backdoor was her husband dressed in an undershirt and boxer shorts.  Pulling the ensamble together was the pale green terrycloth bathrobe drooping off one of his shoulders.  The contrasting salt and pepper of his scruff looked extra abrasive reminding Katherine of asphalt.  She took one more breath in to steel her confidence, forced her painted lips into a cheery smile and stepped forward.

“You’re up,” she said making a beeline to the dining room table to set down her handbag before removing her gloves.  She looked down on her husband.  No reaction.  She would not be defeated this easily.  Katherine strode confidently into the kitchen and pulled her apron off the back of the pantry door.  “We had a really good time at the meeting.  Do you remember me telling you about this month’s book?”  Evan cocked his eyes over to his wife but gave her no indication of an answer.  “It’s, oh, I forget the title.  It’s there in my bag if you want to get it.”  Evan didn’t move.  “I think you’d like it.  I know you don’t like to read, but it’s pretty short.  You remember me telling you about it.  It’s the one from the man who was liberated from the German concentration camp.  What is it’s name?  Evan, would you pull it out of my bag?”  She hoped that maybe if he could just touch the cover, something from the book would seep into his body.  Evan resumed his study of the backyard.

“You’re no help at all,” Katherine said, reentering the dining room and pulling the book from her bag.  “Man’s Search for Meaning, that’s it,” she said plopping the book in Evan’s lap.  Viktor Frankl.  Anyway,” she said, returning to the kitchen and pulling off her jewelry, “he says that if you don’t have a purpose in life, you have a hard go of it.  He noted that with some of the other liberated folks that if they were given even something small to do, just, you know, almost anything, polishing doorknobs even, started them back to finding purpose again.”

Evan placed the book back on the table and resumed his contemplation of the backyard happenings.  Katherine placed her hands on her hips.  “Evan,” she said, “this is… you can’t just loaf around the house the rest of your life.  I refuse to believe that being a private detective or investigator or whatever you want to call it is the only thing you’re suited for in this life.  You have to get up, stand on your feet like a man, and do something.  Make some kind of contribution to,” at this, she waved her hand vaguely at the world beyond the four walls of their house, “I don’t know.”

“Well, when you figure it out, I’m sure you’ll let me know,” Evan said, gaining enough motivation to push himself out of his chair and start moving to his room.  

“Listen.  I go to these meetings and listen to the other wives talk about their husbands.  Everybody’s doing great.  Everybody’s living the Dream.  Their houses are cute, their lawns are cute, they’ve got it together, you know?  I hear about Nathan, who’s making a difference at the savings and loan.  I hear about Leo, who’s making quite the name for himself at the University.  I hear about Karl and his parent’s shop he’s managing.  He’s about to become the owner in six months when his father retires. 

“And I come home…” She held out her hands as if she were a model on one of those daytime game shows displaying potential prizes… “to this.  No progress.  No ambition.  No pulling yourself up.  I’m tired of this pity party you’ve been throwing.  The charm of it has worn off.  I don’t see why you can’t figure out something else to do with your life other than live the life of an almost criminal.” 

Katherine knew she’d let her tongue get the better of her, and she scolded herself. “Anyway, it got me to thinking—the book, I mean. Maybe you need some new experiences.  I was talking with Carol Harvey, and she said they were in need of some work around the house, and I said you would be over to help.”

Evan stopped and turned to look at his wife.  “Who?”

“Carol Harvey.  She’s married to Bill.  They live just down the street.  The cute blue one near Seventeenth.”

“Kathy,” Evan massaged his scalp, “what is your problem?  I – “

“My problem is that I have a husband who is embarrassing.  You sit at home all day.  I don’t know when was the last time you showered and shaved.  I don’t think sunlight has touched your skin in months.  This is not the husband I thought I was getting when I left the hospital.”

“Fine,” Evan said, holding up his hands, “I’ll go. Just…” His voice trailed off.

“Just what?” Katherine asked, following him down the hall.  Evan closed and locked the bedroom door before Katherine could enter.  She banged on the door with her palm, “Evan!”

Katherine stared daggers at the closed door, closed her eyes and took a deep breath.  “You don’t have to go.  It’s just Bill’s been out of work for a while and he’s not able to fix the house.  You’re good with tools and I thought you could help them out.”  The door cracked open.  Katherine could see that Evan was getting his clothes on.

“Why can’t he do it?”

“I told you.  He’s been out of work.”

“I’m out of work, too, I can still fix broken things on the house.”

Not without nagging, Katherine thought.  “He’s laid up.  Doctor’s orders.  He can’t get out of bed.”  The door opened fully.  Evan stood before his wife with his coveralls on, sneakers tied, and his hair somewhat combed.  The asphalt remained.

“You’re going?” Katherine said hopefully.

“You volunteered me, right?  I’m supposed to polish doorknobs, right?  This is supposed to fix me while I help them, right?”

Katherine softened her tone, “I love you, Evan.  You’re a better man than how you’ve been acting.  We just got to get you out there.”

Evan rolled his eyes and pushed past Katherine and headed to the garage.  Katherine watched as he surveyed his tools.  “Any idea what they need fixed?”

“Something with the kitchen sink.”

Evan nodded, assembled some likely tools, and turned to Katherine.  “Cute blue house?”

“Near seventeenth.  The Harveys.  You’ll recognize them when you see them.”

Evan raised the garage door and walked out into the bright afternoon sun.  Katherine watched him go but couldn’t look at him for long.  His shoulders were slumped, and the soles of his shoes scraped the sidewalk with every step.  Katherine looked down.  It was too hard to watch.  But, she told herself, he’ll thank her one day for all of her help.

Stepping back inside the house, she was hit again with the stale odor of the house and immediately began opening windows to get a good cross-breeze working through the house.  Katherine spied the current issue of Better Homes and Gardens.  On the cover was a husband and wife working together on a pristine rose bed.  The house looked like hers, and the couple seemed to genuinely enjoy each other.  How was any of that possible?

Evan had so much to offer the community, why was he so narrow-minded to think it was detective work or nothing?  Clearly, these people, she looked longingly at the cover image, weren’t living lives that were constantly on the edge of danger.  Clearly, these people were living sane, predictable, and peaceful lives in the midst of their neighbors.  Why couldn’t that be her and Evan?  She indulged in a sigh before setting the magazine back down and tidying the house.