“Of course, everyone remembered it perfectly well’I dont remember because it never happened!’ said Ginger firmly, looking at her with his honest, old-man eyes. The conversation fizzled out awkwardly, and they went their separate ways.
‘Why did he lie?’ thought Gretchen. ‘It was so obvious in his eyes!’
‘Do you want me to be your Kai?’ eleven-year-old Peter Ginger asked Gretchen Sullivan, the classmate he fancied.
‘What kind of Kai?’ she frowned.
‘You knowlike in the fairy tale! The Snow Queen enchanted him, and Gerda saved him!’
‘Gerda saved him, not Gretchen!’ she scoffed. ‘Honestly, dont you know your Andersen?’
‘Whats the difference? Gretchen, Gerda?’ Peter waved it off, never one to fuss over details. ‘Im askingdo you want me to be your Kai?’
She didnt. Peter was scrawny, with ears that stuck out, and noticeably shorter than her. Though, she supposed, rescuing someone that small wouldve been easier.
But she was sturdy, half a head tallerhow embarrassing would it be, walking side by side after the rescue? No thank you! Besides, her heart already belonged to someone elsethe class troublemaker, Michael Pudding.
Speaking of, he was standing nearby, listening with amusement.
Gretchen adjusted her hair ribbon and saidloud enough for Michael to hear’Hah! Kai? Youre not even fit to be the reindeer!’
Michael burst out laughing. Peter flinched, shot him a nervous glance, and bolted. The next day, in front of everyone, he took his revenge’Gretchen the Kitchen Sink!’ he announced. ‘I never forget, and my vengeance is terrible!’
Well, what did she expect, Sullivan? No man takes rejection lightly, especially not at that age.
Scrawny Peter had always made up for his lack of brawn with brains. But yesterday, stung by her unexpected slap-down, hed frozen. Anyone wouldve.
And soon, it wasnt just Pudding laughingthe whole class joined in. The nickname stuck. It was funny, even if the word ‘cool’ hadnt been invented yet.
Of course, when Gretchen complained at home, her parents soothed her. But one evening, her father, helping with algebra, lost patience when she couldnt grasp the basics.
‘Honestly,’ he sighed, ‘your Peters righttheres nothing but kitchen sink up there!’ Then, smirking, he added, ‘Give him my regards.’
Somehow, Peter was to blame for that tooher father had never spoken to her like that before.
By graduation, the storm had passed. Childhood grudges, crushes, and embarrassments were forgottenwho had time for that now? They even danced together once or twice. Peter, now taller and muscular from sports, had outgrown her in more ways than one.
Michael had been booted to trade school after eighth gradestrict times back then. And long-distance romance? Too hard. Sorry, Mike.
After school, their paths diverged. Gretchen went into teaching, Peterlike any bright ladto engineering.
Occasionally, theyd bump into each other in their old neighbourhood, exchanging a few words. Then life scattered them furthermarriages, moves. Visits home became rare.
Class reunions? Best avoided. The years had not been kind. The boys were balding, beer-bellied men; the girls, stout women with fading dreams. Gretchen was no exception. Never slender, shed grown monumentally sturdylike a farmers wife from an old painting. ‘Dont come too close,’ she seemed to say, ‘or Ill flatten you.’
Peter, though, was the exceptionstill lean, as if frozen in time.
By forty-five, Gretchen had climbed to deputy headmistress. Peter remained an engineera steady, ordinary life.
Then came the turbulent nineties.
For Gretchen, it coincided with her daughter Zoe bringing home a jobless fiancé’Were having a baby!’ Meanwhile, the factory where hed worked as a welderonce a secure jobwas converted into a self-help seminar hall. Turns out, people couldnt grow without guidance.
And outside the factory? No welding jobs. The profession had vanished overnight.
‘Go sell coats and jeans at the market,’ they told him. ‘Thats what people need now!’
But Yuri refused’Im a sixth-grade welder! What do I know about coats?’
With Zoe pregnant, they were both jobless. Gretchen and her engineer husband scrambledshe started importing coats from Greece (goodbye, education!) while he became a courier. Respectable jobs were a thing of the past.
By the late nineties, things stabilisedjust in time for the financial crash.
But clever Gretchen had saved in dollars. Overnight, they went from paupers to property ownersenough for a two-bedroom flat!
Finally, they could move Zoe, her toddler, and Yuri (still scraping by) out. There was even money left for renovations.
Gretchen returned to teachinghard-nosed women like her were always needed. They even pushed aside the softer deputy head to reinstate her. ‘Youre too gentle,’ they said. ‘We need the whip, not the sugar.’
She hardly saw Peter anymore.
At sixty, her husband left. ‘You smothered me,’ he said. ‘Im a person too!’
Gretchen scoffed. Thanks, self-help gurus.
The new century declared sixty-five the ‘active age.’ How convenient. But active Mike didnt leave for another womanjust to a friends spare room in a shared flat. Even the discomfort didnt deter him.
Zoe had long moved out. Gretchen was alone.
Work didnt fill the voidcolleagues werent friends. And baring her soul to strangers? Too risky. People were cruel these days.
Her granddaughter visited occasionallyheadphones in, eyes on her phone. No real conversation.
At seventy, retirement came. No protestsshe was too old to handle rowdy teens anyway.
Her world shrank to her flat.
Then, one day, she bumped into Peter in the courtyard. Both had returned to their childhood homes after their parents passed. Now, they met more often.
Peter, too, was alonehis wife gone. He chatted happily with the plump Gretchen, reminiscing about school.
Like now, outside the corner shop, they stopped to talk.
The conversation swayedback and forth, like a pendulumtouching on simple, happy memories. Back then, everything had been joyful.
‘Remember when you wanted to be my Kai?’ Gretchen asked suddenly.
Theyd never discussed it before.
‘When did I want to be your Kai?’ Peter frowned.
‘Fifth grade, I think.’
‘Me? Your Kai?’ He laughed. ‘Are you off your rocker, Sullivan? That never happened! Have you seen my ears? And you were no Gerdayou couldnt even climb a rope! A bandit, maybe, but Gerda? Please.’
‘So you remember the rope but not Kai?’ Gretchen arched a brow, her deputy-headmistress tone returning. ‘Selective memory, is it? Thats a fail, mister.’
‘I dont remember because it never happened,’ Peter said firmly, meeting her gaze with those same honest eyes.
Maybe his mind had erased the sting of rejectionold age rewrote the past. Childhood embarrassments, once trivial, now burned with shame.
And if he didnt remember, did it even happen?
The conversation died. They parted ways.
‘Why did he lie?’ Gretchen wondered. ‘His eyes gave him away.’
But Peter remembered perfectly. Shed been his first rejectionand that, a man never forgets.
So there you go, Gretchen the Kitchen Sink. Karmas a funny thing.”
