“Yes,” he answers before I can.
“How cute,” she snarks. Her scrutiny finds me again and after taking a solid sixty seconds to examine me like I’m a criminal she just caught in the act, she says, “I wish you hadn’t done this. I told your fathers––I was very specific about not wanting to be a part of this.”
“You’re n-not a p-part of anything. I just…I d-don’t know. I guess I-I just w-wanted to know…” A serious bout of frustration comes over me and whenever that happens the stuttering worsens. Taking a deep breath, I continue, “I wanted to know where or w-who I came from.”
Katherine stares back blankly. “My mother died of heart failure at fifty…you should probably know that. There’s high blood pressure on my father’s side.”
“I didn’t come for medical records.”
She exhales an exasperated breath. “I was born in Berkeley. My mother was a housewife and my father a cop. She caught him cheating with her sister and divorced him when I was eleven. We traveled a lot. Lived out of our car for a period of time.
“My mother was very smart in a lot of ways, but not about men. She kept getting involved with the wrong ones. One of them raped me when I was sixteen––” She says it so matter-of-factly that I almost missed it. To my left, Dallas straightens off the wall. “––I lived on my own for a while, but I knew the only way up was to get an education. So I went into the system and attended school. Graduated top of my class. Got accepted to Berkeley full scholarship. Yale law school followed. Graduate again at the top of my class,” she continues, sounding rehearsed. As if she somehow knew this day was coming and planned accordingly. “I’ve dedicated my life to helping people that have been fucked by the system…which is why I’ve never had any desire to have children of my own. Is that what you wanted to know?” The bitterness coming off of her is palpable.
“W-Why did you do it?”
It’s not that I expect her to spontaneously develop a modicum of sympathy or caring for me. It’s pretty clear life had hardened her in the worst way. It’s that I’m genuinely curious to see if we are anything alike. Because as it stands, other than sharing some DNA, I am the polar opposite of this woman in every possible way.
“Because your parents are grossly conventional. They wanted kids––to raise a family––and the oppressive and unjust laws at the time made it nearly impossible for them to adopt. So I did what I could. No other reason…you were a statement I was making, a great big fuck you to the white patriarchy.”
Anger, that’s the all I feel right now. Gritting my teeth, I tamp down the urge to say something spiteful. Is the anger edged with pain? Yes, I won’t deny that it stings, but the anger supersedes everything else right now. Maybe later I’ll have cause to cry my eyes out. Probably. But now I’m mad on behalf of my parents, who despite being “grossly conventional” are the most amazing parents anyone could ever wish for.
It’s then and there that I realize I wasn’t missing out on anything, I was being saved from a boatload of heartache. Dallas was so right. I am lucky. I’m the luckiest person I know and it took meeting Katherine to open my eyes to see it. Maybe part of me did hope for some kind of civil relationship. A mutual respect of sorts. Emotionally, I wasn’t prepared to close the door on this, whatever this is, before. I am now though.
Slowly, I stand and almost immediately my hand is swallowed up my a much larger and warmer one. He gives me a soft squeeze and I glance up at him, eyes open, seeing clearly for the first time in my life.
“T-Thank you for t-taking the time to see me…I won’t bother you anymore––in c-case you’re worried about a r-repeat of this surprise visit. I guess I should thank you––for g-giving me to my parents, who are the b-best. So…congratulations. Your s-statement was a success.”
When Katherine doesn’t respond, Dallas steps out first. As I follow, he takes my hand again, Gladys watching us closely.
“G-Gas-Ex for the dog. Ask your vet about the d-dosage,” I tell her as we pass by her desk. A trick Vi’s vet taught me. She has it stocked at the shelter at all times.
The warm afternoon sun hits us in the face when we step out on the sidewalk. I close my eyes and take my first deep breath in a really long time.
“What do you want to do now?” he says in a low sexy voice. He’s not even trying to be sexy––he just is.
A calm detachment gets into my muscles and loosens me up. Shielding my eyes under the roof of my hand, I say, “How do you feel about going back to the hotel and ordering in? Maybe a movie?”