Chapter 4

There had been many quarrels between Jack Kelly and myself, varying greatly in importance and physicality, throughout the two years we had been together. Yet, for some reason, one in particular stood out to me, and surprisingly, the rationale behind its firm placement in my memory had little to do with the actual argument that had transpired. What had truly been striking regarding that event, was a conversation between my mother and myself the following evening. I remember her kind, beautiful face exuding warmth to me during our work day at the store. Although my mother had always been a genuinely affectionate person, I had thought her behavior unusual at the time. Perhaps the reason I took such notice that day was due to another emotion resting gently under the surface of her customary glow. There had appeared to be a sadness intermingled with her loving gaze and it had given me pause.

I remembered at the end of the work day, she had gently pulled me aside while my father had been engrossed with balancing the ledger in the back of the store.

"Katherine," she had said gently, resting her hand on my arm as I distractedly dusted off some of the shelves with a wet rag. When I had looked into her face, my eyes tired from a long night of tears and anger, I remember being taken aback by the severity that her gaze had suddenly taken on.

"Mother," I had responded shakily, feeling confusion and panic fill me at her very atypical expression.

Although I had withheld all information regarding my relationship with Jack Kelly from my parents, I had felt that, on some level, my mother was very aware of what had been developing between Jack and myself over the year and a half we had been together. She had always been an extremely perceptive woman, a trait that she had graciously passed on to me, so I had often felt fearful that she knew about my lies and deception and had been waiting for a good time to breach the subject with me.

I remember silently cursing myself for not being more careful, and then swiftly preparing for the stern lecture I felt I was surely about to receive. However, her next words had had nothing to do with Jack, causing more anxiety and uncertainty to fill me.

She had said lightly, "I'm not sure I've ever told you about the man that I was engaged to before I met your father."

I had simply shaken my head, her unexpected statement rendering me speechless.

"Well, my darling, you know your grandparents were always keen on me marrying someone of more means," she had said with a slight smile.

I had nodded knowingly in response. Although my mother's parents had been a central part of our lives for as long as I could remember, I knew that they had initially been less than pleased with my mother's choice of husband. It had been vital for my mother, having been born into a family of great wealth, to achieve certain things that were customary for a woman of her station. And the one expectation that was of the utmost importance to fulfill was that she marry a suitable partner within the same class as herself.

However, my mother had always been a headstrong girl, much to my grandmother's dismay and my grandfather's amusement. So when she had belligerently settled upon my father as her choice, a man of inappropriate prospects, I could only imagine the outrage it had caused. I had always been slightly surprised that it had been allowed to take place at all, and that my mother's parents, even amidst their complete disapproval of the situation, had grown to admire my father and become very involved with their grandchildren. I knew many other families that would have certainly disowned their daughter for such actions, or, more commonly, forced her to marry someone of their choosing, regardless of her preference.

"Well, I suppose no one mentions that unfortunate event for good reason, my love," my mother had continued, breaking through my thoughts.

When I met her eyes again, she had quietly continued, "A young man of, what my parents called at the time, an appropriate social standing, took an interest in me shortly after my seventeenth birthday. And all appeared normal. He seemed well-educated, clever and thoroughly in love with me, so I had no complaints." I saw another soft smile grace my mother's lips as she paused, her eyes in a distant place and time.

"What happened?" I had asked, completely enraptured in her story, but still apprehensive of its ulterior function.

Her eyes snapped back to stare at me, an uneasiness permeating through them. She had slowly stated, "I suppose things were not as they seemed with him, and as our time together continued and I eventually accepted his proposal of marriage, his issues became much too glaring to continue to overlook."

I had remained silent, recognizing the pain that flashed behind her eyes, having seen a similar emotion overtake my own gaze for too many nights over the past year and a half. But, within seconds, a gentle smile returned to her face.

"Luckily, I found your father after that terrible time," she had said, surprising me again with an abrupt ending to her story. I remember considering pressing her for a more detailed description of this fiancé of yore that had never been mentioned before, but I had hesitated, not wishing to spur on a conversation that would eventually lead to my own disreputable relationship.

"And if there is one thing that I could impart to you, my darling," she said firmly, bringing my attention back to her once more, "It's that you are worthy of a man that cherishes the amazing woman that you have become."

She had stared fixedly at me, and though she had remained silent, I remember becoming undeniably cognizant of what she was truly communicating. Her severe stare told me that not only was she aware of Jack Kelly's present affiliation with me, but that she was also conscious of the inappropriate way I was being treated by him. And, although I had continually been skeptical of the unambiguous signs that told me things with Jack Kelly were destined to never get better, my mother's face that day had been much too difficult for me to ignore. After several more months of hearing my mother's voice incessantly replaying in my head, there had been no more doubt in my mind that it was a necessity for me to free myself from Jack Kelly.

And I did just that, after nearly two years of being with the leader of the Manhattan newsies, but, strangely, I had felt anything but liberated. The decision to no longer be with Jack Kelly unfortunately did not come without hefty personal costs to me, causing a strain that threatened to devastate what little intact life-force I had left after those destructive two years.

Walking to my father's store every morning after ending things with Jack had been excruciating. The Manhattan newsies' callous stares had been an unexpected blow to my already weak outer exposure. They all knew what had happened, and their hatred of me was palpable.

Their stares followed me everywhere for weeks on end. They would coldly regard me as I walked the several blocks to the store and then glare menacingly as I traversed around town to make deliveries. Each of their faces mirrored a tiny shard of a bigger reflective image, revealing a broken and spiteful Jack Kelly.

He may not have told them to hate me, but he spared no time in filling their minds with his own distorted views of my actions. From Jack they heard the long list of my various crimes, each one more despicable than the last. And after this airing of grievances, the Manhattan newsies, my once close friends, had no choice but to despise the very thought of me. They turned their backs on me so suddenly that I had no chance to catch my breath. They never dared touch me or mock me openly, however, for they knew that if there had been any whisper of foul play on their part, Spot Conlon would not have hesitated to respond swiftly and harshly.

I supposed one surprising benefit of ending things with Jack was Spot Conlon's continued loyalty to me, even in spite of his increased involvement with Julia. More unexpectedly, however, was that after my final night with Jack, I often discovered him waiting outside my window at night. Sometimes he would request my aid in delivering messages to Julia, but I frequently found that he had other reasons for staying. There would be many nights that he would linger for several hours, divulging personal thoughts and feelings to me, and I realized that not only did I appreciate the company, but I also truly enjoyed spending time with him. Spot had always been known as a man of few words, but from those nights we spent together, I soon learned just how much more he had to say.

I had not been sure what had spurred on this increasing closeness between us during those long months after Jack, but I had assumed it mostly had to do with the sense of obligation Spot seemed to have in regards to me. I knew that he had been truly concerned about me after that final chaotic encounter with Jack. I remembered Spot insisting on walking me home that night, my cheek still stinging from the final blow Jack had bestowed upon me. He had stared forlornly at me as we walked back toward my home. The exhaustion from the two prior years had left me nearly immobile and certainly enervated, and Spot had viewed my pale face and apathetic expression with sincere worry. He had so firmly pressed me to allow him to accompany me to my room that I had acquiesced without a struggle. My fatigue had been too overwhelming to respond to any of the kind things he had relayed to me throughout our slow walk towards my home, let alone fight with him about something so trivial.

"You ain't alone in this, Kate. I'm here. I just want you ta know that."

His final words to me that night had definitely given me some comfort, especially since I knew that he was being completely candid. And when he had wrapped me in an earnest hug and gently kissed my cheek before exiting my room through the window, an immediate warmth had spread throughout my body, causing my mind to snap back into focus momentarily. The action had been out of character for him, and in my few moments of clarity, I remember gently touching the place on my cheek where his lips had pressed, and feeling a sudden urge to run after him and desperately collect more of his electrifying affection. But I had immediately stopped myself, knowing that it would not be right for me to ask this of him. He had Julia after all.

And soon, the initial happiness I had felt with Spot's frequent night time visits began to wane. I started to realize that the exhilaration that filled me when I was with him had little to do with my ever increasing feelings of loneliness that my breakup with Jack had spurred on. Just as his brief kiss on my cheek had filled me with an innate urge to experience similar affection, the time I spent with him during his visits left me aching to see and hear more. The strange feelings in the pit of my stomach that I had always somewhat felt before now seemed to intensify exponentially. And after a few months of seeing him fairly regularly, a horrifying thought occurred to me. I had tried with all my might to suppress and ignore the idea that circulated in my head, but to no avail.

I wanted to be with Spot Conlon.

I didn't want it to be true. I didn't want the tyrannical ramblings that Jack Kelly had subjected me to for years to be accurate. But the more I fought against this thought, the more the reality of my feelings cemented themselves. And as my denial began to fade with the passing weeks, I felt myself involuntarily distancing away from Spot.

"You alright, Kate? I feel like somethin's wrong."

Spot had voiced his concern several times after my unfortunate revelation, but fear and doubt had caused me to mask my true feelings with a fake smile and silence. I had never been a good liar though, so it didn't take long for Spot to see through my thin veil of pleasantness. I also began to notice that Spot's intricately crafted façade had slowly begun to creep back into place, destroying the openness that our year of close friendship had created.

I had felt myself slipping away even more, but the finishing blow had not been Jack and the Manhattan newsies as I had expected it would be. My inability to voice my true feelings for Spot Conlon had been too much for me to bear. I had known then that something had to be done, or I would completely lose myself with no hope of ever returning.