Cat
My mom and I got to North Carolina on Wednesday to spend Christmas with my dad and siblings. My dad, as a teacher, is on winter break as well, and my mom closed her practice for a few days, though she’s always reachable for emergencies, which have already trickled in. She received a call from the wife of a patient right after breakfast today, and my mom quickly retreated into the small office my parents have set up in our four-bedroom home.
I’ve loved spending some time with my family and Julie, though admittedly I haven’t ventured farther than from my house to Julie’s—partially because I’m afraid of running into Adam or anyone even remotely connected to him, and partially because my dad has been almost stiflingly protective. It’s always “Where are you going? When are you coming home? Who will you be with?” and never “Have fun, Kitty. I trust you. I know you can take care of yourself.”
It’s been a leisurely day filled with a whole lot of food and time spent on the couch in the presence of my parents and siblings. Right now my dad, brother, sister, and I are spread out in the living room, my little brother cuddled up against me as we watch the same Christmas movie my family watches on Christmas Day every year. It’s our tradition. We spend the day dressed in our pajamas. My dad makes waffles for breakfast while my mom readies Christmas dinner, and then we hang out in the living room watching Christmas movies and talking, my younger siblings playing with their new toys here and there. Christmas has always been one of my favorite holidays.
“Have I told you how Christmas-y you look today?” my mom says as she walks into the living room with a cup of coffee. She sits next to my dad on the sofa, leaning against him as he drapes his arm around her, pulling her close. “The red and green of your outfit are very festive.”
I smile, bunching the fabric of the sleeve in my fist, which is tucked into the sleeve. “Yep, Ran’s sweater makes the whole outfit.” I grin as I look down at the red pajama pants topped off by Ronan’s dark-green hooded sweatshirt.
My dad turns to me. “That’s your boyfriend’s sweater?” he asks, one eyebrow cocked.
It irks me that he doesn’t call Ronan by his name and just refers to him as my “boyfriend.”
I nod.
“Huh,” he grunts.
“What, Dad?” I sit up a little, and my brother grumbles as he adjusts his position on the couch.
My dad gives me a half-hearted shrug. “I just think maybe you’re moving a little too fast.”
My shields go up. “Ran and I have been together almost seven months now.”
My dad obviously knows about Ronan, knows how head over heels I am for him. He also knows what happened to Ronan—after all, my parents talk several times a day, and my mom has kept my dad well apprised of the situation. My dad has been skeptical of my relationship with Ronan from the beginning, telling me again and again during our occasional phone chats that I should take things slow and be careful. I know he’s still on edge after everything that happened with Adam not even a year ago, his violent outbursts, and his recent episode of stalking me in New York. I understand he’s worried about me and probably feels guilty that he was unable to protect me from Adam. I assure him, of course, that I’m fine and that Ronan is nothing but amazing. My mom does the same, but so far my dad hasn’t come around.
“Yeah, but he’s been away for a while, right? And he doesn’t really come from a good home, Kitty,” he says earnestly, a deep crease on his brow. “I worry about you.”
I don’t know how to respond to him and look to my mom for help.
“Bobby, Kitty’s fine. Ran’s a great young man,” she says.
He scoffs loudly. “May I remind you of our daughter’s last boyfriend? I told you right from the beginning that I didn’t like him, that I thought was making a mistake by going out with him. I had heard about Adam’s escapades—the partying, the girls—but nobody listened to me. We let her walk right into that, and I’ll be damned if I let her walk right back into it again.”
“You haven’t even met Ran, Dad,” I say, my voice tense.
“I don’t need to meet him. I know enough that I’m not at all convinced he’s right for you.”
I sit up straight. “You don’t know anything about him at all, Dad!”
“He’s a seventeen-year-old high school senior who, I’m sure, is ruled by his testosterone,” he says. “I will not let my daughter become a statistic and get knocked up by some hormonal teenager at seventeen. No daughter of mine is going to walk around with a stigma like that.”
My mom gasps. “Bobby, Kitty is way more responsible than that.”
“I sure hope so. I hope we’ve done a good enough job raising her that she knows not to just let some boy use her like—”
“Bobby, enough. We’re not discussing ’s sex life!”
“Of course we’re not. Because our daughter doesn’t have a sex life.”
My eyes flit to my mom, and she gives me a minuscule shake of the head. My mom was the one who insisted I get on the pill when Ronan and I started dating, and though she and I have never explicitly talked about it, I’m sure she’s aware that Ronan and I have been intimate.
“But what’s more important is that I know that boy was abused by his mother. Kitty, he may seem like a great kid, but that kind of stuff comes with its own baggage. People who grow up with abuse usually end up becoming abusers as well. It’s a hornets’ nest, baby. I don’t want you to get hurt again,” he says, trying to keep his voice steady, warm.
I cross my arms in front of my chest. “Ran won’t hurt me!”
“You don’t know that.”
“Yes, I do!” My voice is tight with the effort it takes me to remain composed. I don’t want to yell at my dad but I feel my patience waning. “If anything, Ran keeps me safe, Dad! You should’ve seen him when Adam showed up in New York.” I recall Ronan’s bloody lip, his bruised cheekbone, as well as the fact that he apparently got into it with his mother afterwards, who hurt him even more.
“She’s right, Bobby. Ronan is wonderful. He’s respectful, and kind, and he very obviously cares about . He kept her safe to his own detriment. Really, Bobby, let’s not do this right now!” my mom says, her voice warm as she tries to calm the tension in the room.
“Fine,” my dad says. “I just don’t like that I’m not there with you two, that I don’t know what kind of people you’re around, Kitty.”
“My friends are all amazing, Dad. Ran’s amazing. He’s so good to me,” I say, but he looks unconvinced.
“Kitty, I just want you to be safe.”
“I know, Dad. I am safe, I promise!”
My dad exhales deeply, pressing his lips together. “Adam’s hearing for his probation violation was last week.”
My mouth drops open. I had no idea, and judging by the look on my mom’s face, she didn’t either.
“What? And what happened?” my mom asks, pulling away from my dad to sit up straight.
The expression on my dad’s face makes it clear it didn’t go the way he had hoped.
“The judge refused to impose jail time on Adam for violating the terms of his probation and the restraining order,” my dad says, anger tingeing his voice. “He barely agreed to extend Adam’s probation period. Turns out Adam’s parents know someone who’s apparently closely related to the judge, so…” He presses his lips together again, and it bolsters my understanding that my dad’s dislike of my relationship with Ronan has nothing to do with Ronan and everything to do with Adam and what he did to me.
“Why didn’t you tell me, Dad?” I ask, my voice laced with accusation.
“Because I didn’t want to worry you, Kitty. There was nothing you could have done.”
Why does his gesture to protect my emotional well-being bother me? I know he meant well by withholding this information from me. I know he’s right: I couldn’t have done anything about it. Nonetheless, the idea that my dad didn’t think I should be privy to things that personally affect me feels like an insult.
My mom shakes her head in exasperation. “Gosh, I really thought there would be greater consequences to Adam’s misconduct.”
My dad nods, his face hard. “I know. And it gets worse,” he says cautiously, looking from my mom to me and back again.
“How so?” There’s an anxious edge to my mom’s voice.
“Well, the restraining order we had in place has expired and the judge didn’t feel it was necessary to extend it or make it permanent because, as he said it, lives hundreds of miles away, reducing the likelihood that Adam would interact with her, and, surely, ‘Adam has learned his lesson regarding whose presence to seek out.’”
My stomach churns, twisting itself into nauseating knots while my pulse quickens, my mouth so dry it feels like I swallowed sand. I can’t believe my dad didn’t feel the need to tell me this sooner. Of all days to drop a bomb like this, he chose Christmas.
“So, what does that mean?” I stammer with wide eyes.
“It means that if Adam contacts you or anything like that, the police won’t stop him unless and until he becomes violent again,” my mom tells me, her voice tight.
“Exactly. Adam’s probation was extended until March, but once that’s done, he’s free to leave the state again without violating his terms, so…” My dad trails off.
My mom shakes her head. “How is that possible? I don’t understand.”
My dad shrugs. “Adam’s lawyer put on a great fucking show, that’s for sure,” he grunts. “He hammered home the fact that Adam has been a model citizen since his little, and I quote, ‘misstep’ in August when he stalked you to New York. He said Adam was working part-time, was taking classes, getting good grades, and has apparently been doing some volunteer work. For all intents and purposes, he has turned over a new leaf.”
It’s quiet for a long moment while this news sinks in. I don’t know how to feel. Scared, I guess. Anxious. Though I’m not sure this changes anything for me because, well, Adam obviously didn’t care about the restraining order in August, and he didn’t care about it when he contacted me again in October. He extorted me until I pretended to have changed my number.
“Wait, but didn’t you say you thought he had a new girlfriend?” my mom suddenly says with an “aha!” face, breaking the tense silence.
I look expectantly at my dad, who nods. “I saw him with a girl when I picked up some dinner at the crab place on Main a couple of weeks ago. They were obviously on a date.”
Hope brightens my face.
“So maybe he really has moved on,” my mom says.
God, I hope that’s true. Maybe that’s why Adam hasn’t reached out again? Maybe we’ve finally reached the point I’ve been waiting for. Maybe Adam is tired of his game and has decided to move on. One can only hope.
My dad releases an angry growl. “I hope for Adam’s sake that that’s the case, because I’m this close to—”
“Okay, how about a subject change?” My mom keeps her voice light. “Let’s not ruin Christmas by talking about something this unpleasant, okay?” she says, then smiles. “Kitty just sent in a bunch of college applications.”
My dad’s expression softens as he smiles at me. “I hope you applied to Duke,” he says like there can be no doubt that Duke would be my number-one choice.
“Uh, actually…” I trail off, resulting in a shocked expression from my dad.
“What are you saying, Kitty? You’re not applying to Duke?”
“I don’t know yet, Dad.” I realize I’m doing absolutely nothing to lighten the mood.
“Wait, is this because of your boyfriend again?” he asks, his shoulders tensing once more.
I look at him sheepishly but don’t respond.
“Kitty…” He apparently decides against further discussion and simply gets up off the couch and starts toward the kitchen. He stops, though, and turns back to me. “I will not let you forego applying to your parents’ alma mater just because you like some boy. I’m taking you on a tour of the campus. You need to see this place. You’ll change your mind. I guarantee it. You’re a smart girl.” He disappears into the kitchen.
My mom studies me, her eyes soft. “I think you should at least apply to Duke, Kitty. Can’t hurt,” she says, then follows my dad into the kitchen, probably to provide him with some comfort.
Maybe I’m being too obstinate? Too difficult? Am I turning into one of those kids who are hell-bent on defying their parents? Am I heading down the path my dad always warned me about?
My dad and I have always been close. I was a daddy’s girl growing up. He’d take me fishing or to baseball games almost every weekend. We’d go camping regularly, often with Julie in tow, and my dad taught me the limited automotive skills I possess while he’d tinker on his red Chevy Chevelle when the weather was nice. I’m nowhere near as knowledgeable about cars as Ronan, but I can change a tire and ensure a fair price at an auto shop if necessary.
But then I started to date Adam and, I think, my dad struggled with the fact that there was another guy in my life who I chose to spend time with over him. My dad couldn’t stand Adam from the beginning; every time I went on a date, his face held displeasure.
My dad had always made his expectations for his children—and specifically his daughters—clear. We were never to become like “those” girls who chase boys around, who ruin their and their families’ reputations by getting themselves into “unbecoming situations.” Those discussions only became more frequent when I began showing romantic interest in boys and started seeing Adam.
And when things finally unraveled between Adam and me and I confessed to my parents that Adam had been physically abusive, my mom had to work hard to prevent my dad from giving me an I-told-you-so speech. But I’m pretty sure Adam could’ve been Prince Charming and my dad still wouldn’t have liked him, just like he’s apparently decided to dislike Ronan, even though he’s never exchanged a single word with Ronan, has never met him, and doesn’t have the slightest idea just how freaking perfect Ronan is to me.
I try not to worry about how difficult my dad is—or maybe my mom’s right and my dad’s just being protective, whatever—but what I do worry about is when my dad inevitably meets Ronan. I’d hate for my dad to project his negativity on to Ronan, who has suffered enough injustice in his life. It’s completely unfair that my dad has formed a premature opinion about Ronan without even giving him a chance. And that fact makes me supremely angry at my dad.