Chapter 3
Catalina
“What the hell is going on here! You—you whore! How dare you! You can’t find someone for yourself, so you have to throw yourself at mine? Whore! You disgusting whore!”
A loud crash slams against my closed door, rousing me awake. My body screams obscenities as I raise my head. It takes me a minute to take in my surroundings. This nightmare is still my reality. Grunting, I flip to sit up and realize I passed out in my clothes again. Shoes included. Instead of coming straight home, I took a detour to the park by our house, a place I always seemed to find solace in as a kid. If it hadn’t been for the rigid temperatures, I would have slept on the park bench. Thankfully, when I finally returned home, everyone was in bed.
My door swings open, and my mom appears in the doorway.
“You have school in twenty-five minutes. William will drive you since you missed the bus, but if you don’t plan on being responsible enough to get up in time, you’ll need to find another ride to school. And please, for the love of God, keep your hands to yourself.” She shuts the door, and it takes a beat to pull my eyes from where she just stood, the sting of her words taking flight in my mind.
Keep your hands to yourself.
I want to yell that my hands weren’t the ones doing anything, but I bite down on my lip, reining in the emotions threatening to spill out.
“You’ve been waiting for me to give in... Tell me you’ve thought about me filling this tight little…”
There isn’t a day that goes by that I don’t feel regret. Kenneth. My mom’s boyfriend. I was wrong to egg him on. He was a weak man, and I saw an opportunity to hurt my mom the way she hurt me. And even after everything that’s happened, I know, if I could go back, I would do it all over again. Because in the end, she deserved so much more pain and betrayal. If she hadn’t come home that night, I would have let him take me in all sorts of unfathomable ways.
I shake off the thoughts and get up. I have more significant problems today. One being having to introduce myself to Mom’s new husband and his son. Maybe my new stepbrother is cool and hates my mom too. We can gang up on her and take turns secretly spitting in her food at dinner. “Yeah, right,” I chuckle. He’s probably some dweeb like his father. Mom had never had good taste in men.
I go through the motions of getting showered and dressed. I snoop through the bathroom cabinets, and as I figured, there’s no hint of my things anywhere. Not that I expected there to be. I snoop through all the drawers, taking in the choice of men’s care products. I use his loofah to wash my body and his shaving gel for my legs. Since we’re about to be in the same space for the next few months, I figure we might as well get used to sharing.
When I’m dressed and ready for another day of hell, I walk past my old bedroom. The door is still closed. I debate knocking, wondering if I should introduce myself before Mom has the chance to. I’d rather be known as Cat than her whore daughter. Voices downstairs pull my attention, and I head toward the kitchen, that particular introduction averted.
My mom is standing by the island, sipping on coffee. Her body tenses the moment she sees me. She takes a territorial step toward the man seated at the table reading the newspaper. “You took too long getting ready. You’ll have to grab breakfast at school,” she spits out.
“Morning to you too.” I step into the kitchen. The man places his newspaper down and stands. “Well, hello there. You must be Catalina. I’m William. It’s such a pleasure to meet you finally.” He begins to step toward me, a hug in the works, and I step back, catching my mom’s scathing eyes.
“Yeah, same. Can we go? Don’t wanna be late.”
William nods, a smile on his face like I didn’t just rudely deny him. “Of course.” He turns to my mom and places a gentle kiss on her cheek. “Have a good day, honey. Want me to pick up dinner on my way home? We can have an easy night.” My mom’s scowl disappears, a warm smile taking its place. She nods, and he offers her another sweet kiss.
Feeling as if I’m trespassing on their intimate moment, I turn away. The unfamiliar compassion my mom shows him stings, and I can’t bear it.
“When you’re done making out, I’ll be outside.” I walk out the front door and lean on his car to wait. Only a minute or two passes before they walk outside. My mom’s lips thin, unable to hide the displeasure. What does she think I’m going to do? I bite my tongue from shouting that I’ll refrain from blowing her new hubby on the way to school.
William’s soft gaze turns to me. He’s just the innocent victim here. “Ready, kiddo?”
I nod, offering him a lame smile. Before my mom loses it and rips me away from her husband, I jump in the front seat and shut the door.
The ride to school is quiet. William doesn’t push me to talk and changes the news radio to something more alternative. I give him the side-eye, and he laughs. “Don’t all you kids like this type of music? I didn’t want to bore with you morning stock hikes.”
I take a moment to observe him. He’s not like Mom’s usual flings. He’s attractive, with dark hair, a gentle smile, and bright blue eyes. He’s unassuming and seemingly ordinary—not predatorial.
“I’ve been waiting for this—for you to want this.”
I shake off the inappropriate memory and break eye contact. “Yeah, whatever. It’s fine.” The last thing I want to do is become friends with this guy, give my mom the wrong idea, and get kicked out. Not that it matters. She’d be doing me a favor. We pull up to the school, and I throw my door open, ready to bail.
“Did you need a ride home? I can have—”
“No, I’m good. I’ll find a ride. See ya.” I barely look his way as I exit the car and rush toward the front entrance. Without looking back, I push through the school doors.
I swear the day was never going to end. The last bell rings, and I gather my things to leave school. Avoiding home, I head back to the park despite the freezing temperatures. Sitting on the bench, I watch the snow fall as my mind shuffles through my ugly memories.
My parents were liars. The worst kind. Two people who took vows of matrimony and spent most of their marriage in other people’s beds. I’m not sure who cheated first, but by the time they finally divorced, both of their hands were so filthy, they couldn’t try to hide the soiled secret lives they lived.
And they wonder why I have issues.
In the beginning, they hid how unhappy they were. My five-year-old brain didn’t think anything of it when Dad would walk the babysitters home personally, taking a detour through the garage late at night. My six-year-old brain didn’t bat an eye when only one man at a time would come over for Mom’s “book club.” The older I got, the more I saw the writing on the wall. The bullshit PTA gatherings. The late-night meetings. The foul things I learned my dad enjoyed while his little flavor of the week moaned dirty shit under her stuffed mouth while sucking him down her throat. I lost count of who was worse. If it wasn’t one, it was the other.
By the time I hit high school, they finally called it quits. My dad ran off with a young blonde from the tanning salon, and my mom packed up his things and had divorce papers ready for him to sign when he returned home.