WINTERING IN GALVESTON...

"And so you see I have come to doubt

All that I once held as true

I stand alone without beliefs

The only truth I know is you..."

- Simon and Garfunkel, Kathy's Song

By Patrick Alcatraz

Editor

GALVESTON, Texas - I was very married when I met Kate that winter, when I first saw her walking into her office, which was next to my office. From the beginning, it was easy to see her as someone who would become important to me, and, as things turned out, she did become that, perhaps more than either of us thought was possible. Kate worked for the American Cancer Society and I was bureau chief for The Houston Post, a one-man operation that had me living the life of an island reporter, a guy asked to cover anything newsworthy, like oil slicks, hurricanes, bad politics, tourism and crime. Going to the office early was okay. I'd see Kate and we'd chat a bit before she'd spring back into her office and I went on with my duties. How we got together has much to do with my marital problems. It all started with a drink after work.

Both of us knew Post reporter Steve Solo-Olafson, the guy I'd replaced in Galveston after the newspaper bosses moved him into Houston. Olafson was a friendly sort, one of those laid-back guys who loved to write and could do it with grace. Anyway, it was Olafson who invited me - and then Kate - to lunch one day at some seafood joint. I recall most of my meals on Galveston were superb, mainly because I'm something of a shrimp addict.

At the time, after my wife had gone back to live with her Mom in Fort Worth, I moved into the Casa Del Mar hotel, which was a nice place. I leased a small apartment that came with a small kitchen and a sliding door out into the second-floor balcony that gave me a sideways view of the beach. The first time Kate came over, she brought sandwiches from some deli and I popped a bottle of wine. The first time we fooled around sexually is lost on me, but I do recall the bed in the tiny bedroom. Mirrors lined the walls on three sides and you got a full view of your hanging balls when you undressed to hit the sack. It would draw smiles from Kate and a few other women during my stay there. It was too cool to see Kate bouncing on me and then move my head a bit to the side to see her in the mirror at the foot of the bed - the same bouncing, but with a nifty view of her gorgeous ass and back.

Who knows if Kate remembers those days and nights. I do.

Winds coming in from the gulf on the colder days gave our evening goodbyes (she lived in Houston) a certain air of drama, especially as I would watch her walk to the end of the open-air walkway and head down the stairs to the covered parking. I loved the way Katie walked, with great confidence and as if carrying the memory of our romp in the bedroom. A visible moving radiance followed her hair from lighting overhead as she made her way. I'd stand there in my shorts, staring at her and waiting for her to look back at me one last time. It had taken awhile to get there, but when we went naked, well, it seemed as natural a fucking as I'd ever enjoyed. This lasted most of that winter, until I started seeing a girl named Carole who worked the hotel's front desk. I'd see Kate a few more times after that, some in Houston, but we drifted apart in the weeks before I took a job back east with The Boston Globe.

I still communicate with her from time to time via Email. She's married now, living in Houston.

There are women I miss. Kate is up there near the top of that short list...

- 30 -