Erica Lee Berquist

A Man Named Ken

Ellen had been standing in the same spot for a long time. The only accounting for the passing time was the steady pace of her breathing and the growing ache in her legs that were gradually tiring. And yet, she didn’t move… the only part of her that moved were her eyes that roved across the figure that stood before her. His charcoal grey suit was trimly cut and pressed, with fine lines running up the legs as a testament to recent ironing. He wore a white shirt that was tucked into his belted pants, showcasing his narrow waist, and she could just imagine the flat stomach under that shirt. Most of all, Ellen’s eyes were drawn to his broad shoulders… were those from shoulder pads built into the suit, or was that his shape? She couldn’t tell.

“Excuse me.” A woman bumped into Ellen, jarring her out of her thoughts. Ellen turned around with a friendly smile for the stranger, seeing a short, fit woman with dark hair cut in a chin-length bob. The woman put her purse on the carpet before settling onto a bench beside a rack of men’s loafers. The bench had mirrors on the sides of it, so that shoppers could admire their feet in the shoes they were trying on.

“No bother, dear.” Ellen said, shrugging off the collision. The friendly smile remained fixed on her face, though the other shopper wasn’t looking at her. “That’s a smart pair of shoes you’ve got there.”

The woman was just slipping her feet into a pair of black tennis shoes, and she looked up with a grimace. “Oh, these? They’re not really my style.” She looked down at her feet, which she turned from side to side as she appraised them. “But I think they’ll do just fine.”

“I think they look very sensible,” Ellen said. “Nice thick sole, and they look like they have good arch support.”

“That’s exactly what I need for my job,” the woman said with a laugh, as she returned the shoes to the box beside her purse. She slipped on the sandals she was wearing earlier, with sparkly gems stitched along the band beside her painted toes. “I need something I can be comfortable wearing all day.”

“You have a job that requires you to be on your feet all day? Oh please, let me guess what your job is.” Ellen started to bounce on the balls of her feet in excitement, until she realized how odd that must look to the woman sitting on the bench, so she stopped.

The woman on the bench waved her hand invitingly, her lips curved with an indulgent smile as if entertaining a child rather than a woman ten years her senior. “Go ahead.”

“I think you work in a shop. You’re very friendly and I can just see you on your feet all day, making coffee for your regulars, and you remember all their names.” Ellen put a hand to her chin as she thought some more, and then shook her head, as the woman watched her and gave no hint if she was on the right track. “No, that’s not it. You’re friendly, but I feel like you’d get bored working in a shop, seeing the same people every day. I think you work in a hospital. You look like a nurse, and I can just see you helping your patients, talking to doctors, and handling medicines. You look like a very smart woman. Am I right?”

“You’re close,” she said, as she slung her purse over her shoulder and tucked the box of tennis shoes under her arm. “I’m actually a police officer. Yeah, so I do a fair bit of walking in my job… hopefully these shoes hold up.”

“Oh, a policewoman? That’s lovely. Yes, I think those shoes should do just fine. Hopefully I can find what I’m here looking for, too. You see, it’s my husband’s birthday this weekend. He’ll be turning fifty, so it’s a big one. I wanted to get him something special.”

“Is that what the suit is for?” the policewoman asked, with a nod to the charcoal grey suit on the mannequin behind Ellen. “I saw you looking at it earlier. That would make a nice gift.”

“I’m not so sure,” Ellen said with a sigh, as she turned to face the mannequin again, and this time she attempted to not become transfixed by it. She had spent enough hours staring at it already. “At first, I thought I could see my Kenneth in it… how handsome he could look again, but I’m starting to think that I’d be dressing him up for me, rather than who he really is now. When we first met, he played football, and his shoulders were so broad. I loved the feeling of his arms wrapped around me… and when I see my Kenneth in this suit, it’s the Ken I first met.” She had to pause to take a steadying breath, as her eyes passed once more over the broad shoulders of the figure in the suit. “I hope I don’t sound superficial. It’s not his body I’m talking about, and how it’s different. I don’t mind how he’s changed or if he wears a belt anymore. Lord knows my body isn’t the same. I don’t mind that he’s different; I mind that he’s never here. I just want him beside me…”

The policewoman standing behind her didn’t say anything as Ellen paused again to suck in a shuddering breath. She would not break down. She would not.

Ellen continued, “All he does is go to work, come home to eat and sleep. And then he’s gone again. I never see him otherwise. We never spend time together. We never talk. Not for years. But I have it in my head that maybe if I just throw him this party, if I cook him his favorite food and get him a nice present, then he’ll look across the table. Then for once in the longest time, he’ll actually see me.”

Before her, the mannequin in the grey suit stood impassively. Its smooth face was expressionless, with just two shallow impressions on the head giving the hint of where eyes would be. Yet there was something comforting about its sightless gaze as the head was turned so that it was facing her. This mannequin was looking at her. It was seeing Ellen somehow.

“The eyes are the worst part, you know?” Ellen whispered under her breath, unsure if the other woman would be able to hear her. “His eyes were the first thing I ever noticed about him… the most beautiful shade of green, like a forest. I saw him, and he saw me. But now he looks through me. Like I’m not even there.” Now she wasn’t on the verge of tears anymore. There was no feeling in her chest like she was being torn apart by pain. Instead, she felt hollowed out, as her gaze dropped to the price tag hanging from the sleeve of the grey suit. She said, “Oh, who do I think I’m fooling. I couldn’t even afford the jacket of this suit.”

The purse hanging from her shoulder suddenly felt too light, as she realized the only money in it was the dollars she’d saved from the grocery budget the past few months by clipping coupons. She’d be lucky to walk out of this department store with a belt or tie. With a sheepish smile pasted to her face for her new friend, the policewoman, Ellen turned. Only to see that the woman was gone. Once again, Ellen was alone.

* * *

In the end, she decided to pass on the belt and tie, or anything else she might have been able to afford at the department store. As her husband sat across from her at the small, circular table they kept in the kitchen, Ellen knew she had made the right choice. She couldn’t imagine the man sat before her in his work coveralls wearing anything else. It was like the blue grease-smudged garment was a part of his body, and the longer he spent in it, her memories of him in anything else were fading until there was nothing else left.

As Ken bent over his plate, the pate of his head shone under the lamp hanging above the table. He had been so eager to sample the cake that he pushed aside his dinner plate and cut a slice before Ellen could even sing happy birthday to him.

Seeing his appetite for her food, Ellen smiled and asked, “Enjoying the cake?”

Ken nodded, his mouth full of chocolate, and a few crumbs caught in his beard.

“I hope it’s moist. I added some sour cream to the batter.”

Her husband grunted before taking another bite. He didn’t seem to have any opinions on sour cream or if it should be included in cakes, but he was enjoying his birthday and that was all that mattered.

“I also got you a little something,” Ellen said. She retrieved a box from her apron pocket, which she pushed across the table towards him.

Without lifting his gaze from the table, Ken reached over to grab his present. He slipped the purple ribbon off the box and removed the lid before grunting in delight. Picking up the fishing hook, he rotated it on the tip of his finger as the feather fluttered in the slight breeze of the air conditioning.

Suppressing a smile as she silently celebrated, Ellen watched her husband toy with the fishing lure. It looked like she’d gotten the right one. She couldn’t remember the name of the lures he liked, but when she’d described Ken’s gear to the guy at the bait shop, he’d told her it sounded like she was looking for a fly fishing lure.

Ken got up briefly, before returning to the table with his fishing rod. The cake plate was now discarded beside his forgotten dinner, as he attached the lure to the line and started reeling the line in and out, in and out to watch how it fluttered, clearly already imagining it on the water.

A lump rose in Ellen’s throat as she watched him, unaware of her gaze on him… unaware of her at all. She had gotten this gift for him, knowing that it was something that wouldn’t keep him at her side, but instead would give him more of the space he seemed to crave as he left her for hours to go to the lake. And yet, she thought he would at least look at her briefly when she gave it to him. Here she was now, in a red dress cut low, with her face finely made with makeup, and her hair curled, yet he never even noticed.

Suddenly, Ken put the purple ribbon that had been tied around the gift on the floor. As he tried to hook the bow with the fishing hook, all Ellen could see was the small square card tied to the bow, which he hadn’t bothered to read. Happy birthday, Ken. Love, Ellen. On the floor. Unread. Just as he’d hooked the bow with the fishing lure, Ellen couldn’t stand it anymore.

She stood up suddenly, so fast that her chair toppled over and slammed onto the linoleum floor. Finally, Ken looked up. He looked at her. Yet, he didn’t say anything. His eyes were on her face, those beautiful green eyes which were the first thing she’d noticed about him, but he might as well be looking at any other patch of yellow wallpaper lining the kitchen walls. For a second, Ellen held her breath, waiting for something to happen. Yet all Ken did was pick his teeth with his pinky nail to retrieve a piece of pot roast wedged between them. Although Ellen finally had what she wanted – he was looking at her – she couldn’t stand it a second longer. She turned away from him to face the kitchen counter.

Moving slowly as if in a dream, Ellen rounded the kitchen table to the utensils neatly put away on the countertop. She watched as her hand moved to the knife block.

Still perplexed about what had bothered his wife, Kenneth looked around the kitchen. From the chair lying on its side on the floor, to his new fishing hook still dangling with the bow, and the chocolate cake and his favorite pot roast on plates on the table. All of this seemed a bit unusual for a Saturday night… He glanced at the calendar hanging from the fridge, and his eyes widened. Oh… today was his birthday. His fiftieth birthday.

With his mouth hanging open, Ken looked at his wife as she turned back to face him.

‍ ‍* * *

Mary rang the doorbell for the second time, as she tapped her finger against the notepad in her pocket. She really hoped these people would make this easy for her, so she wouldn’t have to return with a search warrant… All she had was the hunch of an employee in a dark parking lot, who claimed to recognize a chatty woman who’d practically cornered him to tell her his whole life story the day before. It might be nothing, but if Mary was lucky, she might see the stolen merchandise from the front door while talking to the homeowner.

Finally, the front door clicked open, and Mary blinked at what she saw. It was like she was looking at a photograph from the 1950s. The woman was wearing a navy-blue dress with white polka dots, there was a thick string of pearls around her neck, and her hair was curled and tucked into a net to keep the curls neat.

“Ah!” The woman who opened the door cooed in delight, clapping her hands together. “Company! How lovely of you to come calling.”

Mary’s fingers stopped tapping on the pad in her pocket, having no idea what she’d even record in her case notes about what she was seeing. Clearing her throat as she mentally returned to her training, she said, “Ma’am, I’m Officer McDougal. I have some questions I’d like to ask you.”

“But of course, I know who you are. Come in, come in! Kenneth would love to meet you.”

“You… know who I am?” Mary asked, taking a hesitant step into the house as the woman repeatedly waved invitingly.

The lady in the pearls rolled her eyes exaggeratedly, as she said, “Yes, I’m Ellen. We met earlier this week. I know you haven’t forgotten. I see you’re wearing those smart shoes I told you to get.” She started waving wildly again, as she encouraged Mary to follow her further into the house. “Come, come. Let me give you a tour. And my husband is in the kitchen. He loves having people over.”

Glancing down at the black tennis shoes on her feet, Mary finally remembered the woman in the department store. Yet as she glanced up at the woman smiling so wide her cheeks must hurt, it was hard to reconcile the change in her. The erratic way she moved, almost manically. There was something unstable about her, that Mary hadn’t noticed days ago. Mary’s fingers tapped again, but this time on the taser at her belt rather than her notepad, as she felt the need to reassure herself that it was still there.

As Mary followed Ellen through the house, the tour commenced. “And you see that snow globe on the mantle? See the space needle in it? Kenneth and I got it when we were in… guess where. Seattle of course!”

“Very nice,” Mary said with a nod, as she had with the last three snow globes her hostess had pointed out, on their journey from the front door through the last two rooms. If she had anything to say for this house, it was that no stolen merchandise was in sight. The heavily used reclining chair with a beer can in the cup holder had obviously been acquired a decade or two ago.

When they neared the doorway, Ellen started to skip like a schoolgirl in her eagerness to arrive in the kitchen. “Ken! Kenneth!”

Mary could hear her calling in the next room, though she was now out of sight. With the manic woman outside of her field of vision, Mary’s nerves jangled and the hairs raised on the back of her neck… she could be doing anything in the next room.

“Darlllling, we have company!” she trilled like a bird. “Come meet our guest.”

Feeling the need to have something in her hands but knowing it wasn’t time for the taser yet, Mary withdrew her notepad and pen from her pocket. As she stepped through the doorway to the kitchen, she froze in place.

Ellen was standing in the center of the kitchen, on the other side of a circular table. Her hands were on the shoulders of a figure seated at the kitchen table. For a second, Mary couldn’t look anywhere but at the smiling woman in pearls. Her smile was still too wide, and Mary’s instincts as a police officer told her to watch this woman… she was dangerous.

So, it took Mary a minute to finally look at the figure seated at the table. When she did, she nearly dropped her pen. He was an it. The figure was a mannequin wearing a charcoal grey suit. Its pale white face was turned so that the impressions in the face that would be its eyes were focused on her as she entered the room. His… no, its bare white head was gleaming under the light that hung above the kitchen table.

“Kenneth, why don’t you say hello to our guest?” Ellen leaned forward slightly, like she was speaking into the nonexistent ear of the mannequin. “This is Officer McDougal. She’s here to ask us some questions. Now, what did you say you needed, dear?”

“That’s okay,” Mary said, as she started to write on her note pad. Stolen merchandise located. “I have what I need.”

Ellen continued to smile widely, like she didn’t have a care in the world.

As Mary looked around, her pen hovering on the notepad, her hand shook too much to write another word. The arterial spray on the kitchen cupboards… the large area of disturbed earth visible in the garden through the kitchen window… So, she was going to need a warrant today. Mary swallowed heavily, and she managed to squeak, “I think I’ll be going now.”

“So soon, dear?” Ellen asked, her fingers trailing along the countertop as she rounded the table. Her fingers adorned with a French manicure skipped along the marble languidly, past a cookbook propped open to display a recipe, then across the trail of dried blood, and finally they stopped near the knife block where one blade was missing but more waited. “Are you sure you wouldn’t like to stay with me, just a bit longer?”

Since graduating from Towson University with a BS in English, Erica has worked as a freelance editor and for Cloudmed Solutions LLC as a Recovery Analyst. Her poetry, non-fiction works, and short stories have been published in numerous literary magazines, blogs, and anthologies. One of her short story publications “Coffin Bell” won second place in Commuter Lit’s Halloween Week 2024 Contest, and her poem “Ulmus” was a top finalist in Wingless Dreamer’s Roots and Rivers Poetry Contest. Erica’s debut novel, The Servant, was published by Poets Choice & Free Spirit LLC in April 2025. In her free time, she enjoys making jewelry, researching family history for herself and others, gardening, and spending time with her cats.