Chapter 16
From the desk of Kate Fair who’s at the Evergreen Mobile Home Park again so she’s still using this old yellow notepad for stationery
4/14/92
Dear Frida,
Oh! My! Gosh! We both have kisses to tell!! You’re never going to believe this.
OLD SVEN!! (He’s actually not that old. Only two years older than me.)
Did I mention he hosts our reading series? The night Lydia Minatoya was here for her memoir, the stars aligned. After the reading he heard me mention how I borrowed a car again. His Dart was in the shop and he asked for a ride home since Wallingford is almost on the way to Ballard. When we got to his house we started talking. I know it’s not a walk on the Seine, but it had rained all day, and I can’t imagine any place more radiant than Seattle after a downpour. Through the windshield we could see all the way down to Lake Union where the skyline looked like sequins reflecting off the water.
I can’t believe everything we told each other. I confessed how terrified I am of Kierkegaard. I told him more about my anxiety and how it especially happens when I’m writing, and he said it’s the sign of being a truly creative person. I even told him how I wanted to be Pinky Tuscadero when I was in the third grade before I decided to write books. He wanted to be an Air Force pilot but he got diabetes when he was sixteen. It was hard for him to accept, but he thinks his disappointment will make him a better novelist. Yes, he wants to be a novelist, too! The next thing I knew he leaned over the gearshift and kissed me. Right then the radio played R.E.M.’s “Shiny Happy People.” Can you believe it?
We haven’t told a single soul. Yesterday on our dinner break I left first. He left a few minutes later. We met up at Bud’s Jazz Records around the corner. There’s a narrow stairwell that goes down from the sidewalk to the shop underground, and we felt like spies rendezvousing on a secret mission. We got so lost in the liner notes on your Miles Davis soundtrack we were late getting back to the store. We had to make up an excuse about how we ran into each other at the Merchants Cafe, and they messed up our orders so we had to wait. The last thing we need is a bunch of gossipy opinions about Serious Sven and Perky Kate.
Sven says he loves knowing the me no one else at the store knows. When I get to work, he asks me how my ladies are doing. He means Anita Brookner and Margaret Drabble (she’s another British novelist I’m into right now). It’s our inside joke. We sneak into the coat closet and kiss. And I help him dodge the Middle-Aged Lady Poets who are madly in love with him. You would not believe how many Middle-Aged Lady Poets there are in Seattle who madly love Sven.
Frida, it’s like my life changed in an instant. Every night after work Sven comes over to my place, and we drink tea and read out loud to each other. I just thought of a perfect word without having to look in my Roget’s . Now that I’m with Sven every second feels luminous. And not just when I’m with him. Like right now, being here at Bumpa’s. It’s one of my favorite places in the entire world, but tonight I’m really seeing how special it is for me. I think I forgot to tell you how when Dad traveled for work and Mom went with him, they’d drop Franny and me off here. We’d eat black licorice for dinner and play pool for hours at the clubhouse across the street, and Bumpa had this funny little Peugeot moped he let us drive all by ourselves as long as we didn’t leave the park. It felt like being at the center of the universe.
Last night while Bumpa and I were playing gin, I kept thinking how lucky I am to have such an awesome a loving grandpa. Do you know my mom says she’s never heard him say an unkind word about anyone. And my whole loving family – my Love Boat. Ha! And Sven. I have Sven. I can’t stop smiling. I feel giddy. Is that how Niko makes you feel? He sounds amazing. Diplomat parents and bureau chief for Current magazine. My dad’s had a subscription for as long as I can remember, and now that I’m at the store he clips out book reviews that sound interesting and mails them to me. I’m sorry Niko left for Sarajevo. I hope you get to see him again soon.
Until then here are some more books to help you on your War Journo Dame journey. The last time I was at Bowie & Company poking around, I couldn’t believe your luck. I found nearly perfect copies of Marguerite Higgins’ News Is a Singular Thing AND War in Korea AND Our Vietnam Nightmare . I guess they were all together because they came from an estate sale. I want you to have them as a thank-you gift. Can you believe we’ve been writing to each other for half a year? We’ve never met, but I feel like whatever I tell you, you’ll understand it, like we’re on the same wavelength or something. It’s not always like that with my old friends anymore. A lot of them are already getting married, and they talk about things like having babies and mortgage plans. I’m into Sven, but I can’t imagine that right now.
Have a divine day!
Kate
P.S. I’ve never seen a French New Wave movie, but I think I like foreign films. I can’t wait to see Enchanted April .
P.P.S. Hormel tamales come in a can with this tangy red sauce. You heat them up, peel off the wrappers, and fold them in bread with a ton of margarine. It has to be Wonder bread so you can squish it really good. My mouth is watering just thinking about it.
P.P.P.S. I’ve been wearing the Eiffel Tower scrunchie every day. Thank you. I love it. Where did you find it?