Chapter 7 Wednesday, December 21st #4
I shake my head. “I’m very serious. I brushed my teeth, then booked it to the next gas station and took a piss there.”
Her laughter turns into a high-pitched squeal. “You chose a gas station over this bathroom?”
“Like I said, very serious.”
“The bathroom isn’t that bad,” she says through a guffaw. “I’ve had much worse.”
I shake my head at her. “Sorry my dick’s not as thick-skinned as you. I have no doubt I’d catch an STD just standing in there,” I joke, nodding in the direction of the bathroom.
“You’re concerned for your cock Mister Slept-With-Over-Fifty-Chicks?”
I narrow my eyes and tilt my head at her. “Only ever with a condom, and I’m not about to put on a rubber to take a fucking shower.”
“You know, I did use the toilet in there and I’m perfectly fine,” she says, her blue eyes watery with laughter.
“Nah, you for sure contracted something. I’d recommend you find the nearest clinic when you get back to Montana. Get ready to ruin your intestinal lining with some harsh antibiotics to kill whatever worked its way into your system while you peed.”
That results in a new wave of laughter. She composes herself, then smiles at me with a sanguine look.
“I’ve missed you. Only you manage to make me laugh until I want to puke,” she says, then ties her red flannel around her waist. “Alright, let’s leave this beautiful five-star resort and get on the road. ”
I pull on my jacket, grab my backpack, and follow Miranda out the door and to the small lobby to check out. We’re in my car and on the road just minutes later. Miranda immediately starts messing with the stereo, trying to find suitable music for our short road trip.
“So, when can I finally see a picture of your feline?” she asks with a grin after she settles on a bluegrass station of all things.
I smile, then quickly pull up a picture of Cat before handing my phone to Miranda.
“Holy shit, Rony. This is her?” Miranda’s eyes are huge as she looks at the photo I took of Cat at Murphy’s one evening. My smile widens. To say that I’m proud—and immeasurably undeserving—to have landed Cat would be the understatement of the fucking century.
“Yeah,” I say, my focus on the road.
“Good god, she’s”—Miranda searches for the right words—“fucking gorgeous. No wonder you go all goo-goo when you talk about her.”
Miranda begins swiping around on my phone, probably looking through more pictures.
“You two are so cute together,” she says as she continues to scour my phone.
“Oh, fuck, Rony. She’s got a perfect body, too.
Nice, perky boobs.” Miranda grins and turns my phone for me to see a topless picture Cat sent to me when I was at work one night a couple of months ago.
“What the fuck, Randi,” I grunt and snatch my phone from her hand.
That is definitely not something I’m willing to share.
Not with Cat’s history. She only started to trust me with intimate pictures of her in September.
It was a huge surprise to receive a text message with an extremely provocative and equally sexy picture of Cat.
I called her the second I opened it—even though it was well past midnight—wanting to gauge her feelings about the step she had just taken.
It was important to me that she knew I never expected her to send me nudes, that I’d never pressure her.
It had to be her idea. I mean, was I going to complain?
Fuck no, but I needed her to know that I only move at her pace, always.
Cat assured me that she had thought about it long and hard, and this was something she wanted in our relationship. She’s definitely gotten more comfortable, and I have a small, nicely curated collection of intimate pictures of Cat on my phone. I just didn’t expect Miranda to start looking for it.
“I know all about hidden albums, Rony.” She grins at me.
I frown. “You ever heard of privacy?” I lock my phone with the push of a button.
Miranda only laughs. “But seriously, she’s stunning. I love her eyes.”
My face softens. “Yeah, me too. There honestly isn’t any part of her that I don’t love,” I say, then sigh.
“Oh yeah, I bet you love every. Single. Part. Of her.” Miranda wiggles her eyebrows at me.
I shrug. “I mean… yeah.” I can’t help but smile. Cat seriously is the most beautiful, perfect girl I’ve ever laid eyes on. “She’s honestly way too good for me, Randi.”
“Why would you say that?” she asks, studying me.
“She always has been. I knew it right from the moment I met her, and I felt like such shit for dragging her into my bullshit. And even now…” I trail off, shaking my head. Okay, Ran, why the hell are you going down this path right now?
“But it’s over, Rony,” Miranda says. “Your mom’s not able to hurt you anymore.”
“Yeah.” I sigh.
I feel Miranda’s eyes boring their way into my head.
“You’re doing it again,” she says. “You’re bottling shit up. I told you to stop doing that. It’s not healthy, Ronan. Tell me what you’re thinking!”
There go my walls, up and up, brick by fucking brick. Except I was the one who cracked open the door. Why? Maybe because being silent is starting to feel worse than bleeding. “Last I checked, I drove thirteen hours to help you out. Not talk about my shit again.”
“It’s not just a one-way street, Rony. Talk!”
I stay silent for a while, battling the weight of what’s transpired over the past thirty days. It’s been getting heavier and heavier—the nightmares, the spiraling thoughts, the intrusion by that damn journalist…
Up until August of last year, Miranda was the only person who truly knew what my mother was doing to me.
Miranda and I have known each other since I was ten and she was twelve, and we bonded over having parents who treated us badly.
Her father—the pastor of my grandparents’ small church in Montana—is a verbally, emotionally abusive.
And my mother would regularly beat the living shit out of me while reminding me that I was utterly, fucking worthless.
So, I open the door a little wider; maybe I can relieve just a tiny bit of the burden. I tell Miranda about my grandmother’s unannounced visit, the way she rationalized what my mom did to me, and her suggestion that I search my soul for forgiveness.
Miranda chuffs loudly next to me. “So what I hear you telling me, Rony, is that your grandmother came to the house where your mother inflicted almost two decades’ worth of torture on you, just to make fucking excuses for your mom’s behavior.” Her blue eyes are ablaze with anger.
I nod. “That night I dreamed that I was beating the shit out of Cat, Randi. And I’ve had several more of those fucking dreams. It freaks me out so much.
I swear it felt real. What if I hurt her, Randi?
I can’t do to my family what my mother did to me, what my grandfather did to his family.
” My stomach churns. Each time I have a dream like that I wake up not only drenched and clammy, but overcome by nausea that brings me to my knees.
I’ve thrown up twice after that nightmare, but I’ve managed to keep from purging my stomach the last few times by sitting on the edge of my bed while hugging my knees and concentrating on slowing my breathing.
“Rony,” Miranda says with an air of amusement, “you can’t seriously think you’d be capable of doing that.”
I clench my teeth, my jaw flexing. I have no idea what I’m capable of.
I’ve lost control before, have found myself in situations where I saw nothing but deep, dark red, where violence seemed the only reasonable response to whatever the fuck triggered me.
Who’s to say I won’t find myself in a situation like that in the future, that I won’t be set off by something as yet unknown to me?
From what I understand, my grandfather didn’t lay a hand on his wife until they were married.
Maybe it’s only a matter of time before I… snap.
“What does Cat have to say about all of this?” Miranda asks when I don’t respond.
“I honestly don’t know,” I say sheepishly. “I haven’t talked to her about any of it.”
“Ugh,” Miranda groans. “Why not, Rony? You talk to me about it.”
I throw my hands up, then grip the steering wheel tightly. “You two are so different, Randi. You know what it’s like; you understand the darkness, how fucking broken I am. Cat is… Her love for me is so pure. She’s… whole, and unbroken, and… not… stained like me.”
“You think you’re stained?” Miranda asks, a note of sadness in her voice.
“I don’t… I can’t burden her with this shit,” I say without responding to her question.
“I just want to protect her. She’s… God, she cares so much about me.
She’s always so considerate and I… I don’t want her to forget herself or be anchored down by me or…
” I don’t think my ramblings make any sense at all.
Heavy silence engulfs us for what feels like an eternity while Miranda studies me. “Can I tell you what I think?” she finally asks.
My jaw ticks. “Since when do you require my permission to word vomit all over me?” I ask dryly.
“I just thought I’d be polite,” she says with a small giggle, but immediately turns serious again.
“Two things, Rony. One, when it comes to Cat, you have to remember that she’s been through the thick of it with you already.
She’s not ignorant to your pain. You guys have been together for quite a while now and she’s seen you when you were at your most broken, right? ”
I shake my head. “Not really. I was gone; I was in Montana. Those months when I couldn’t drag myself out of bed, when I couldn’t eat, when I had nonstop nightmares, when I tried to figure out a new normal, a life without fear and violence—I was in Montana, away from Cat.
I didn’t even get to talk to her while I was at my lowest. She may have an idea, but she doesn’t really know how bad it was, how close I got to just… ending it all.”