6. Catherine Jenkins
CHAPTER 6
Catherine Jenkins
CALUM
Cathie. Her name is Catherine Jenkins. She’s the same person.
The pink hair and the black hair. They are both her.
Cathie. My Cathie. My first and only girlfriend. I knew I couldn’t have dated two girls.
I collapse on the bed of the hotel I’m sleeping in tonight. The chat with Tessa was a lot. On my feet again, I toss my coat on the bed and pace the room. My thoughts swirl, creating a confusing mix.
A phone rings. The familiar ringtone makes my hands clench. Mum. I let the phone ring. The fifth time she calls, I wrench it from the bed and storm to the window. I pull the curtains open. It’s late, but my eyes catch movement below. This is the city where people never sleep.
“Cal,” Mum says. “Where are you?”
“I’m not coming home tonight,” I tell her and end the call. She knew about Cathie.
A sound hitches in my chest. I punch the wall, and a bolt of pain shoots up my arm. Fuck. It’s my playing hand. I cradle the hand and return to the bed. My head hangs low, and I wait for the one person in the world I want to call me back. Another hour rolls by, but Tessa doesn’t call me. The time difference in Yorkrinth is fucking too much. It should be past midnight there.
For the sake of it, I text Tessa. My phone rings. I’m so fast to grab it that I miss the green button. When I pick up, she requests to switch it to video call, and two faces show up on screen. I chuckle, but it’s a pathetic sound that locks in my throat and leaves my mouth bitter.
Ben is with her. Her Benny.
They got a place in Yorkrinth when they realised Tessa’s current show would keep her there more often. His arm slings round her shoulders. She makes a face at him before turning to wave at me.
“Hey,” I say. “Got anything yet?”
I want pictures of her. I don’t understand how I don’t have any. I don’t have a single picture of Cathie. Tessa’s lips stretch into a thin smile, and I wish, for the first time, that I was one of those guys who showed off his girl by sending multiple pictures of her to their best friends.
“I found only one,” she says.
Kicking out my feet, I lower my head to the headboard. “That will do,” I reply, tired.
It won’t. But it’s a start. Catherine is a ghost. She has no social media presence. How is an eighteen-year-old not even on Facebook, Instagram, or TikTok? I can’t help thinking it’s by choice.
My phone pings when a message comes in. I open the image from Tessa, and it’s her. My superstar. The girl in my dreams. I light up like a Christmas tree, my grin automatic. Tessa giggles, and my grin widens as my fingertips trace the outline of the picture. My heart is full.
“You two used to be friends, right?” I ask, without looking up from the picture of my Cathie. Her hair is pink in this picture, tied into two buns, with her fingers poking each side of her cheeks. God, she’s so pretty. And happy. And carefree. And young. My memory is still hazy, but from my conversation with Tessa earlier, they used to be in communication. “Tessa?”
“Yeah. Used to,” she says. She does that silent communication thing with Ben. He disappears from the screen, and she drops into a chair that appears in her vision. “She blocked me, Cal.”
My heart dives to my stomach. I flop to the bed and rest my phone against the headboard so I can gawk at Cathie. If Tessa weren’t staring up at me from her corner of my device, I would have licked the picture on my screen. I was always right about the blue eyes and pink hair.
“Do you happen to have any pictures of her with another hair colour? Black, maybe?”
“I’ll check,” Tessa says. She flicks a piece of hair off her face, but it returns. Two more tries and Ben comes to the rescue with a band to put her hair in a bun. She blows him a kiss, and my cheeks flush. I understand why she’s enamoured by him. “Sorry about that. But yeah, when I met Cathie, I think her hair was pink. Or was it blue? I don’t remember it anymore.”
Blue? It’s always pink in my dreams. “Just check,” I tell her.
“Sure. Did you ask your mum?”
Tessa squints at my screen, trying to take in the unfamiliar place. She knows what my house and room look like. I move the phone around for her to get a better view. I haven’t had a chance to do that. I asked Lucas for the best hotels available on short notice and he directed me to this. I could have stayed with them, but they are part of the problem. They kept mute. Tessa also did, but I can’t be mad at her. Well, I can, but she’s far away, and I need her help.
“Where the hell are you?” Tessa asks.
“Somewhere,” I whisper. I flatten the phone on my chest so she’s looking at the white ceiling with a chandelier. My eyes shut, and my voice rumbles through my chest. “Somewhere safe.”
“Cal.”
“Drop it.”
The silence carries. Her words float back in. When I met Cathie. I sit up and bring my phone to my eye level.
“You met her?” I say. Tessa nods carefully like she’s afraid of my next question. I hate being unable to remember. I hate that I don’t know where she is or how she is. Did we break up? From Tessa’s side of the story, it didn’t feel like it. So why didn’t she check up on me? What did Mum tell her? Anger surges through me in a flash. Mum did me so dirty. “Where?”
“At her house. I was visiting. You invited me. Her dad, Pete, was nice. Do you remember? He liked you a lot,” she adds. I shake my head. Right now, I don’t remember, but I know I will. I must. The picture is a step forward in the right direction. “What do you remember?”
Everything and everyone but her.
“Her face. Her smile. She’s so pretty. How the hell did she fall in love with a guy like me?”
“I wonder so myself,” Ben screams in the background.
“Fuck you too, Ben.”
“Ignore him, Cal. She really liked you,” Tessa says, laughing. She looks at her boyfriend and snorts, but the spark between them is almost nauseating. “You were about to say something.”
After a count of ten, I make the request. “You said you met her, yeah? Can you go to the house?”
Tessa’s brows pull together, and she nods slowly. “Not immediately, but I can. Later.”
Later is too far. We talk for a few more minutes, and the call ends with a promise from me to update her if I find anything. Instead of getting into bed, I throw on my hoodie and start for the elevator. I need to find a printer or anybody who has one. The receptionist who gave me the keys to my room smiles when she sees me. I bridge the gap with a smile of my own.
“Hey. Do you have any idea where I can print stuff? It’s for… it’s really important.”
Her face falls before she replies. I know her answer is no, but hearing it guts me. I return to my room feeling sorry for myself. At least I have her picture. I make her my lockscreen and homescreen wallpaper. As the night goes on, I crawl into bed and hug the phone to my chest.
Catherine Jenkins. My superstar.
I wake up feeling better than I did after finding out about my girlfriend. More relaxed and ready to confront Mum. After my breakfast, I text Xander to pick me up. This receptionist is different, much younger, and she recognises me at first glance. I end up signing an autograph for her. Thankfully, Xander shows up before anyone else notices me. I think it’s my eyes.
Interviewers always say they are the giveaway and one of my best features, so baseball hats and sunglasses are my favourite disguise. I step out of the hotel with a lighter weight on my shoulders. I don’t know where Cathie is right now, but I’ll find her. She has a lot to explain.
Maybe seeing her will bring back my memories.
The drive home is silent. Mum is pacing the living room when I enter, and she rushes to grab my hands. The skin around my knuckles is sore from punching the wall last night. I wince, hiding it a little too late.
She scowls. “What happened?”
Her hair is down today. It’s still strange to see her with shoulder-length hair. We both started growing it out. In my case, it was to hide the scars around the nape of my neck before I got a cover up tattoo. Jerry already ruined the fun. It was supposed to be a big revelation. Generate a buzz around my new tattoo, drop a countdown for the new album, then our tour.
When you’re famous, people want to know the silliest things, such as where you slept, took a dump, or had breakfast. They want to know about your partner as well. Her face flashes in my mind.
Catherine would be proud of me. I don’t know how I know, but I feel it. I know it.
“So… Cathie,” I say. Mum pales for a second, but I was watching. I captured her reaction. She is guilty. She steps back, her footstep silenced by the rug. “I already know everything.”
“Do you?” she mocks.
“Don’t bother to deny it.” Emotions crash inside me. Anger. Hurt. Tiredness. I close my eyes and let myself feel every single one of them. “Why didn’t you say something? Anything?”
“There was nothing to say,” she answers in her ice-cold voice reserved for strangers.
In that case… I brush past her, charging for my room. I hear her voice, and as she gets closer, her words become clearer. “Get back here, young man. We are not done talking about this.”
Heading straight to my closet, I rip out the first suitcase within reach and start shoving clothes, hangers, shoes, and whatnot into it. Mum walks in, and the rest of her words die off.
“What… what are you doing?”
I throw a look over my shoulder. “Going someplace else until I figure out my shit.”
Within seconds, she’s in front of me. She yanks the suitcase, tossing the clothes out as I put them in. They form a colourful mess on the floor. I straighten up, my hands on my hips.
What is this madness?
“Figure out your shit ?” Mum thunders. Veins appear from the sides of her eyes and on her forehead. A little more, and they might pop. “What do you think I’m doing here, Calum?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. You should ask yourself that question. I’m going to find Cathie.”
“No, you won’t,” Mum states. I make a sound of disapproval, then scoop my clothes on the floor into the suitcase. “You are going to pick a girl you met a year ago over your mother?”
“If my mother is a manipulative bitch? Yes.”
Her palm connects to my cheek before I realised she slapped me. The talk with Tessa rushes back, and something snaps inside me. Tears well up in my eyes. I hold my hand to my cheek.
“Why?” I whisper. I’ve been a good son. I put her first. “How could you do that to me, Mum? You knew she was someone important, and you didn’t mention it to me. How could you?”
“How could I not?” she screams. “Who was at the hospital when Pete almost killed you? Me. Who sat and watched, day and night, waiting for you to breathe?” she asks, stabbing her chest with her index finger. Her eyes water, but the tears don’t fall. “Me. I was the one there, Cal, not some girl. I had no idea if you would be fine because he hit you so hard, and there was…”
Her voice cracks. She presses a shaky fist to her mouth. I used to think the accident was an actual accident. But it turns out the accident is Pete hitting me. Her husband hit me. But why?
“Mum—”
“No. I’ve been patient with you. But you need to remember. Who was there when your father forgot how to be one? Me. Who found you in the living room, cold and almost dead from the stupid drugs? Me. Who was always checking up on you during rehab? Me, always me. Where were your friends, Cal?” She slaps a hand over her chest, her anger and heartache spilling out as tears that roll down her cheeks. “So, forgive me for always wanting to protect my baby.”
“Mum.”
She sniffs. “Don’t you mum me, Cal.” Her fingers run through her hair, and she shakes her head. “I gave up so much for you, and the one thing I ask you not to do, you go right ahead and do it.”
I’m not sure what she’s talking about, but I guess it has to do with Cathie. Tears flow freely down her cheeks. I’ve never seen her like this, not even when Dad died. I take a step towards her, but she backs away.
“You can’t choose who you love, Mum.”
“Oh, yes, you can. Love is intentional. And I’m telling you right now, Calum Dissick, if you walk out that door or get back together with her, I’m done. I cease to be your mother.”