Killing Kate Read Online Free

him for now.  I know I should
be touched by Devin’s devotion to me, but the reality is that I’m so fucked up
that I shouldn’t even be in public.  The truth is I’d have killed myself years
ago if it wouldn’t ruin Devin’s life.  And Devin has something to offer the
world while I only dance in a cage and make rich people complain about paying
for my healthcare.
    When
we were kids living with our mother and Frank, Devin got arrested a lot for
tagging.  I remember one time Frank drove Devin over to a wall under a bridge
that he had gotten caught tagging one night by the cops.  I was in the car,
because our mom was probably home in bed after a long night of falling asleep
at the bar she worked at where she spent more money than she made.  Devin was
there for community service, and when Frank pulled the car up to the wall, he
was in shock.
    “You
did that, Devin?” Frank asked.  Devin looked down at his hands and nodded. 
Frank had pretty much chewed him out to the point where Devin almost cried. 
And Devin never cried.  Frank stared at the wall and then at Devin for a long
time.  Finally, Devin got out of the car and went to go paint over the wall in
an orange vest so that the world would know he had done something to piss off
the law.
    I
remember it vividly.  It was a huge green and black dragon, wings spread, fire
bursting all around, that made me ache, and I don’t know why it made me feel
that way.  He used orange, red, purple and blue and the dragon looked as though
it were bursting through the wall, breaking free.  It was beautiful and
amazing, just like everything Devin has ever created with a brush and a surface.
    Frank
and I didn’t go home after we dropped Devin off.  Instead, we went to an art
supply store and Frank asked one of the employees there to help us find paints,
brushes and canvas.   When Devin came home that night, he found his new art
materials waiting for him and could hardly believe it.
    “I
figured if we bought you art supplies you wouldn’t have to go around stealing
spray paint and defacing public property,” Frank said to Devin.  Devin looked
grateful, and though we aren’t outwardly affectionate very often in our family,
Devin looked like he could have hugged Frank, but Frank made sure to walk out
of the room before that could happen.  He was a stoic ex-Marine who didn’t
really enjoy things like smiling, hugging or talking about feelings.  My mother
once told me when I was fourteen and probably not at an appropriate age to hear
it that Frank pretty much just liked to “fuck and fish, and ain’t no water bed
so I guess all he can do is fuck with me”.  She was charming.  The most
affection we ever got out of Frank was a pat on the head or a display of
understanding and respect like the one he gave Devin that day.  Ironically,
years of spray painting at night left Devin with an inability to paint or draw
in full light, so he either worked outside on our back porch at night, often
not sleeping before school the next day, or in the cold winter months he worked
by candlelight inside.  Electric light indoors, Devin said, didn’t supply the
right type of ambiance.    I am interrupted in my memories and I see Kate
standing at the window, watching Devin and I finish our meal.  She looks
annoyed, as though I’ve made her wait all this time.  I don’t really know how
she feels about Devin because she doesn’t interact with him very much, or hasn’t
in a long time.
    “Devin,”
I say, ignoring Kate for a little bit longer.  “I can’t move in with you. 
First of all, you have a life, and what the hell is some girl going to say when
you bring her home to your little one bedroom apartment and your psychotic
sister is sitting on your couch?”
    Devin
smiles.  “I never bring girls home.  With my job I don’t really have time for
socializing.”  Devin works on the railroad as a conductor and is on call
constantly.
    “You’re
socializing with me