Story by J.J. Krause

Cascade is a serialized satire about four Seattleites –– a failed homosexual, a crypto-obsessed mom, a party-girl-turned-caretaker, and an unorthodox professor, all trying to hold it together in a world coming apart. Catch updates every few weeks on the Capitol Hill Seattle Blog. In this installment, we meet Dave, Karen, and Tamara on a weekend day as an unexpected heatwave hits Seattle. Want to skip ahead? Get the book

Crypto Karen
Cha-ching! Karen Chang did it again!

Her phone dinged as her trade was confirmed. Trading crypto on weekends was lucrative; nobody was paying attention—except Karen. And now that she’d reaped a little windfall, it was time to get back to her other weekend gig: motherhood.

It was Sunday, so Karen was on the clock. Today there was a soccer game at the Washington Park Playfield, and Karen and Albie were late.

“Do you have your stuff?” she cried, noticing the time.

“What stuff?” Albie asked.

“Shin guards? Cleats?” Most seven-year-olds wore sneakers, but not Albie. Karen charged around the kitchen, gathering up water bottles. She snatched Albie’s iPad out of his hands and deposited it on a bookshelf. “Time to go! Let’s move!”

Luckily the Changs lived in a big white box a few blocks away from the Playfield. Karen herded Albie out the door, down the steps, past the Tesla, and along the street. They took a turn down a steep path and into a dense thicket of vegetation.

“I hate soccer,” whined Albie.

“You love soccer!” countered Karen, “and this is how we make friends. It’s only a half hour.”

As they made their way down the path, Karen spotted something through the trees. Was it a tarp? She grabbed Albie’s hand and tugged him along faster.

At the bottom, they emerged onto a plastic field where children were running amok.

“Hi Albie,” said a man in his twenties. A former UW soccer player, Coach Kyle wore a trimmed beard and a Seattle Sounders shirt which framed his pectorals.

“Good morning!” replied Karen, shoving Albie in his direction and flipping her blonde hair back.

“Morning Karen,” said Sheila, one of the other moms. Sheila wore oversized sunglasses like a Kardashian, except she was rail-thin with a bony ass. Karen noticed she was overdue at the colorist.

“Where’d Ed?” said Sheila’s husband, a possibly-bald man in a baseball cap.

“Another bike ride,” said Karen, “with the Google boys.”

“Lake Washington loop?” said the husband, “He’s an animal!”

“They both are,” said Sheila, “I’ve seen Karen at HIIT.”

Karen laughed with a touch of pride. She went to a lot of fitness classes, and it showed. Unlike Sheila, her ass popped, at least a little.

“I believe it,” confirmed the husband, “but isn’t he supposed to be biking with Microsoft now?”

“He’s back at Google again, working out of SLU.”

“Oh, didn’t he just start at Microsoft—”

“He was there a year,” said Karen, turning toward the field.

“Well, I’m sure they’re glad he’s back,” said Sheila, “I know he’s well respected at Google. It’s good to be somewhere stable, where you know the team—especially these days, you know?”

Karen didn’t know what Sheila meant. Maybe she was alluding to politics, Karen’s least favorite topic. Or maybe inflation—which was a problem if you didn’t understand the endgame, which was fiat debasement and cataclysmic fiscal crisis. Karen certainly understood—she knew what was coming—but she was sure it was way over Sheila’s head.

But for now things were great. The economy was booming! The world was exploding with innovation! The entire financial system was being reimagined! If there were ever a time to take risks, it was now… too bad Ed was too risk-averse to follow her lead and step out of his comfort zone; he was basically working at a utility. A cushy one, but a utility nevertheless.

“Google is more than stable,” said the husband, a bored radiologist, “They’ve got all that AI stuff going on I keep reading about. Sounds incredible—and their stock is a monster.”

Karen’s face flashed a micro-expression of disgust. Google, Google, Google. She was sick of talking about it. She’d worked there too! And she left. “Eh, I wouldn’t get too excited. It’s a little overhyped and they’ll probably fumble it,” she said dismissively, “Looks like the game is starting.”

Coach Kyle had retreated to the sidelines, gesturing to the kids to stay in position. A referee started the game with a whistle.

All at once the horde of seven-year-olds abandoned their posts and descended on the ball like a swarm of bees. They careened into one another, bouncing off elbows and kicking at shins, and sometimes at the ball.

“This never gets old,” said another parent.

Coach Kyle shouted hopelessly. 

“Look at Albie!” Sheila said, “he’s got it!”

Jerking his body wildly, Albie advanced from the swarm. Karen felt adrenaline rush through her veins. “TAKE A SHOT, ALBIE!” she screamed. 

Albie’s arms flailed as he moved forward, breaking through the defenses. But instead of taking a shot, he looked toward Karen and stumbled, tripping over the ball and face-planting onto the Astroturf. Karen winced. Fuck! she mouthed, thankful she hadn’t let it slip out with the kids around.

“Dang!” said Sheila, “Thought we had that one.”

Karen watched to see if there would be a meltdown, but Albie jumped up and rejoined the fray. Karen breathed a sigh of relief: her son was gifted, but he could be sensitive. They’d dodged a bullet. And this was progress! Maybe he was finally starting to absorb her lessons, her attempt to inoculate him with the quality that drove so much of her own success—grit.

“He’s a trooper!” narrated the husband.

Pulling out her phone to take a picture for Ed, Karen saw the notifications filling her screen: crypto price alerts, calendar reminders, and a constantly-overflowing email inbox. She grimaced at one preview—it was an email from her CEO. He emailed instead of sending Slack messages on weekends, because it was “more asynchronous.” But of course he knew Karen would respond.

“Will we see you guys at the Bush Day of Service this year?” asked Sheila.

“Oh yes, probably,” said Karen, “When is it?”

“Sometime in April. Always good to give back.”

“Absolutely,” said Karen, still staring at her phone. Maybe she’d send Ed if he could find time in his busy bike schedule.

“And it’s so important, now more than ever,” said Sheila.

What is this woman on? thought Karen, glancing at Sheila. Is she watching too much MSNBC?

A whistle sounded and Karen looked out to the field. The game was over. Neither team had scored.

“Everyone wins!” said Sheila.

Albie jogged to the sideline. “You almost had it!” said Karen. Albie shrugged at her.

Sheila snatched another seven-year-old out of the crowd and turned to Karen. “We’re gonna grab some ice cream on Madison at that new place, wanna join? It’s such a gorgeous day.”

“The gelato place?” said Karen.

“Yeah, that’s the one.”

Karen couldn’t remember the deal with gelato. She thought she remembered it had more sugar and less fat. Or possibly vice versa. Either way, she declined. She was leading an effort at the Chang household to reduce their intake of high glycemic foods. And she had work to do… if she didn’t keep on top of her inbox, she’d never catch back up.

And she just didn’t want to spend more time with Sheila.

“Sadly we have plans this afternoon,” she said.

“We do?” said Albie.

“We do,” said Karen.

“Well, next time then!” said Sheila.

“For sure!” said Karen.

CASCADE 1: Going Downhill | A Failed Homosexual |.Crypto Karen | New Neighbors

J.J. lives in Seattle and can frequently be found on foot trekking up and down hills, stopping only to record one-liners and half-baked ideas.

$5 A MONTH TO HELP KEEP CHS PAYWALL-FREE

Subscribe to CHS to help us hire writers and photographers to cover the neighborhood. CHS is a pay what you can community news site with no required sign-in or paywall. To stay that way, we need you. Become a subscriber to help us cover the neighborhood for $5 a month -- or choose your level of support 🖤