"Can we go somewhere and talk?" Katie asked quietly. She had to tell him the truth. How she would find the strength, she didn't know. But if she didn't, she'd lose him. And as much as she joked about not wanting to be Jack McCallister's girlfriend, she'd come to depend on him.
"I guess we could go to my house," Jack said. He usually didn't bring people home with him for fear that his mother's sermonizing would bore them to death, but even a blind man could see that Katie was in trouble.
"Your mom won't mind you bringing some strange girl home?"
"She can be cool sometimes." As hard as it was for him to admit it, it was true. Unlike a lot of kids, he really did know he could come to his mother with anything. Granted he didn't want to, but he could.
Hart, being a college town, the street was peppered with students on their way to the bars. As they walked along, dodging one drunken frat boy after another, Katie was suddenly overcome with an impulse to grab Jack's hand. She didn't though. All those times she'd kissed him, practically rammed her tongue down his throat, and she was afraid to hold his hand. But for some reason, on this night, the thought of holding his hand seemed so much more intimate.
"So, how's it been going?" Jack asked in a rush.
"Okay," she said looking ahead into the darkness.
Neither said another word until they came upon a ramshackle frame house with a wraparound porch.
"Well, this is it," Jack said. "We can sit on the porch, if it's not too cold for you."
"No, it's perfect," Katie said then smiled. There was something about the night that made her want to be a part of it. "But can we sit on the roof?"
"Sure, there's a ladder against the house." Quietly they made their way past a cluster of pine trees.
"After you Dawson," Katie said. Carefully Jack climbed the ladder, and Katie followed behind. Upon reaching the roof's edge, Jack turned and offered Katie his hand. Finally they settled down, sitting side by side looking up at the clear, star strewn sky.
"My brother believes that astronomy holds the key to every living thing on the planet," Jack said.
"Mmmm, maybe he's right."
Although she didn't buy into religion, at times like this, when it was peaceful, she could almost believe in God. Almost.
"So," Jack said. "You wanted to talk."
"Not really, but I guess I owe you an explanation for why I've been acting so weird.
"I moved to Hart when I was twelve. My mom and I used to live in St. Louis."
"Really?"
"Yeah, but we had to move." She didn't want to tell him this. She didn't want him feeling sorry for her, and didn't want to be another statistic. She cleared her throat. "My father was … abusive. He never hit me, though he'd threaten to, but he did hit my mom."
Katie paused, waiting for Jack to say something, but he remained silent.
"One night they were arguing about a credit card bill. My dad had gotten a second card without telling my mother. Totally ran it up. When she got the bill, she saw all these charges for hotel rooms. They started arguing, and the next thing I knew I heard this crash. I ran into the living room; my mom was lying on the floor. My father had pushed her through a glass coffee table. She just lay there motionless while my father stood over her, kicking her.
"I was so scared. I thought he was going to kill her. In fact, he used to say 'Cheryl, you're going to make me kill you.' So I ran into the kitchen and called the police."
She stopped. She could feel her face heating up and her heart pounding in her chest. She felt fear every time she thought about that night, fear and embarrassment. She knew the abuse hadn't been her or her mother's fault, but she still felt shame nonetheless. Sometimes, in her daydreams, she'd rewrite her family history. Instead of being Katie from St. Louis, she was some prissy rich girl like Missy Belknap who lived in a beautiful Victorian house with a mother who baked cookies and a father who adored them both.
"Anyway," she continued. "The police came and hauled my father away. They tried to convince my mom to go to the hospital but she refused. As soon as they left, we grabbed what we could and stuffed it into garbage bags. We left that night, and we haven't been back since. I haven't even talked to my father since."
Jack didn't know what to say. 'Sorry' seemed stupid and inadequate. Instead, he scooted closer to her and wrapped his arm around her and drew her close. She, in turn, laid her head against his shoulder. The corduroy of his jacket was worn and smooth. He smelled clean and fresh like he always did.
"It's okay. You're safe now."
Katie sighed loudly. "There's more."
Jack braced himself. What he'd just heard had been horrific enough. He didn't want to imagine anything worse.
"So we moved to Hart, and my mom met this guy Ray. He seemed so nice," Katie said, her voice and mind drifting. "He'd buy her flowers, sing her songs, and take us to the movies. They got married, and he moved in. Then …. At first, I thought I was imagining it, reading too much into things.
"His hand would brush up against my body. He'd 'accidentally' walk in on me while I was in the bathroom. A few times, I woke up in the middle of the night to find him standing over me just staring." She shifted uncomfortably as a shiver ran down her spine. "That's why I don't talk about my family, why I'm always at a friend's house."
Jack drew her closer and began stroking her hair. She felt safe in his arms. She couldn't remember the last time she'd felt that way, didn't know if she'd ever felt that way.
They sat like that for a while. Down the street, a dog barked; "A Love Supreme" wafted from the house next door. Suddenly Katie felt the urge to be one with Jack, to meld into him. Before she could lose her nerve, she turned and climbed onto his lap. Grabbing his head, she mashed her mouth against his.
She pulled away embarrassed. "Sorry," she said turning forward. "Do you hate me?"
"Of course not," he said wrapping his arms around her, then burying his head in her neck.
What now, they both asked themselves silently.
