Kit Kat & Katie Did

by Lauren T. Hart

  JE: I take it your mom tattled on me? Lol. Love you Kat. And no worries, I have plenty of unsuspecting helpers jamming in the back yard. Good luck with your nap!

  I hoped Dominic hadn’t just been sitting, staring at his phone waiting for me to text back. It was his time to do with as he pleased, but still, the delay had been longer than I’d intended and more than that, who just sits around waiting for a text? That’s kind of gross. I typed up my response trying not to think too much about it and hit send.

  KF: When my mom was young (she was 17) she met a guy, thought it was love and ran away with him to NY. He was in a band and wanted to be famous. When I was a couple months old, my mom asked him if he ever planned on marrying her, like he’d promised a thousand or so times. In response, he took every last penny my mom had to her name — and left us at a roadside hotel. She begged around for a job, and eventually a single mom at a totally different hotel took pity on her and gave her a job cleaning rooms. She carried me around in a backpack while she cleaned. When she saved enough money for a bus ticket, we moved back here.

  The guy, Kyle, my “dad” in quotes was actually pissed that she’d moved away with me and spent the next few years trying to get custody, paid for by his mom, Jessica, who is a crazy person. Honestly, I think it was all her. Kyle has never wanted to be a dad. Ever. He didn’t even like being called dad. He told me to just call him Kyle.

  My mom tried to be nice about it because even though Kyle had been a complete asshat, her parents were both dead and she thought it would be nice if I had a dad and a grandma… But then Jessica started getting weird about my name not being her name and threatened to kidnap me. So, Mom basically pulled the plug on the entire thing and said she’d let only Kyle have visitation when he was all paid up on back child support. He’d never paid a dime and never planned to so that was basically the last I saw of either of them. I get cards around Christmas and my birthday, but the handwriting looks suspiciously like my moms…

  My mom has always been a hard worker. We started out with nothing, and then we lived in a basement apartment. She cleaned houses, and watched other peoples kids and took online and correspondence classes. I grew up with thrift store and hand-me-down clothes, peanut butter sandwiches almost every lunch, and Kix cereal being the only option because cereal is expensive and it was the brand provided by one of the aid programs we were on. I even got dance lessons for free because Julian’s aunt taught dance. Julian was teaching me way before that though. My mom says I was dancing and spinning before I could walk.

  Eventually my mom finished school, got a decent paying job and we moved into a place near Julian’s aunt. Julian and I went to somebody else’s house after school, I got free reign in the cereal aisle, and PB&J wasn’t the only option for lunch anymore. Everything I did was all about dancing and spinning. I was kind of obsessed. I started Lyra, that’s aerial hoops, and silks as soon as they’d let me and as soon as I was tall enough I started on the Cyr with Julian.

  I started performing as a professional when I was 10, and going on tours during the summers. My mom met a really sweet guy, they fell in love, and this time it was true and good and eventually we moved into a big house in a rich neighborhood. At 15 I started teaching. If the goal is to have a class where no one cries, I’m not doing great at this. This last summer Mom and Mr. Right got married and his ab-fab job took them to another country.

  We’re on tour over the summer months and I teach beginning Lyra to kids during the school months with an occasional event performance every now and again.

  And that’s it. Basically. Sorry for the wall of text. Your turn.

  As soon as it was on its way I started to feel the familiar pains of share regret. I stretched out on my bed with my arms, and my phone, high above me. As if to distance myself from what I’d just wrote, but stay strong and own it at the same time. I hated how vulnerable it made me feel to share this part of my life. I hated when people felt sorry for me because the male part of my parentage is such a loser. Or when people thought my life was so “blessed” in quotes because I was doing what I loved, as if it wasn’t hard work because I enjoyed it or some such nonsense? Ugh.

  As I was trying not to think about it, I drifted off to sleep.

  I hadn’t realized I was tired. Maybe my subconscious just likes to keep me honest. I don’t know. All I know it that 27 minutes later my phone buzzed and it woke me.

  D?: No need to apologize, I like knowing about you, and I like reading. And this may sound like a shitty thing to say, but I like that you came from nothing. It gives me hope that you won’t judge my crap life so hard.

  I had a mostly average life that fell apart. My dad always had some issues. Depression mostly, but drugs and alcohol were a part of that too. He played football in high school, and college. It was one of the few things he really loved. My parents met in college, fell in love, got married. It was hard for them to get pregnant but eventually they had a baby, my older sister. After having her they decided they were done having kids, probably because it was way harder than they thought it was going to be. And then, several years later, they had me. Oops.

  My sister, Maddison is 15 years older than me. She’s married, has a couple of kids. I hardly ever see her. As soon as she got married, she was gone. Couldn’t take all the BS I was too young to see at the time.

  I always thought I had a pretty normal childhood. We lived on a cul-de-sac. I had a dog, Ranger. I had friends in the neighborhood I hung out with most days, I played all the sports. It felt so average and normal it was almost boring.

  What I didn’t know is that my mom had a pill popping problem and my dad was an alcoholic. I knew he drank, I just didn’t know it was a problem until he lost his job and the drinking got worse. My mom got worse too. It was like they were in a competition to see who could be the most fucked up.

  At first, I thought maybe it was just a rough patch, and maybe I could help them, like I could fix them. This was not a good idea. I’d try to stop their fights or get rid of their pills and booze and they just turned all their anger on me. I learned, and just tried to stay out of their line of crazy, and hoped they’d figure their shit out.

  It got bad enough at one point I asked my sister if I could move in with her. She had all the excuses. Said they didn’t have the room. Said they couldn’t afford it. Said Andy (her husband) wouldn’t like it, wouldn’t approve. She never said no though, which kind of pissed me off. Still does.

  About a year later my parents lost the house and we moved in with my dad’s parents. Worst decision ever. My dad being back with his parents who, I’m convinced, are the entire reason he had depression in the first place, only made all of it worse and he eventually killed himself. I’ve never been suicidal, but I still live with his parents, I get why he killed himself. As soon as I’m old enough, I’m gone. Hell, I’d already be gone except being in state custody would make sports a lot harder.

  Not even a week after my dad’s funeral, my mom left. Just left. She resurfaced a few months later living with some loser asshole. She got arrested for shoplifting, initially, and then they found a ton of drugs on her. This is when the state got involved. It was pretty clear my mom wasn’t going to be getting her shit together anytime soon so my grandparents got sole custody of me and I got free, court ordered, therapy. My mom’s pretty much been in rehab or hospitals or jail a couple times since then. Last I heard she moved in with her sister in Montana. Sad to say but I kind of don’t care where she is or what happens to her.

  Anyway, whenever life sucked, I played sports. The more things sucked, the more I trained, and played. Football, track, and baseball are kind of my focus. The only good thing to come out of any of it is that because of where I live I get to play on some good teams. And hopefully it’ll be enough to land a scholarship.

  Most people don’t know this shit. They know my dad died, but my grandparents tell everybody he had a heart attack. And everybody thinks my mom has cancer and that’s why she lives with her sister, a
nd I live with my grandparents. I generally don’t talk about any of this stuff. At all. Ever. But it’s kind of nice knowing that someone who isn’t my therapist also knows the truth.

  Wow. I mean, that’s some fucked up shit, right? But for whatever reason, it felt less fucked up and more… precious. I’d laid out my craptacular past for him and he’d done the same, and it wasn’t for attention or pity, it was just to be out there, to be vulnerable with someone, to risk, to trust. It felt kind of terrifying and also, warm and okay. And I know those aren’t all really emotions, but that’s just exactly how it felt.

  KF: I’m glad you told me. It makes my stomach churn to talk about my past. I hate some of the crap that’s back there, but mostly I hate how people react to it.

  Questions? What happened to Ranger? And when did you get Bix?

  D?: Oh my god, right!? I can’t stand when people feel sorry for me, or pity me. What am I supposed to do with that? Am I supposed to console them for how bad they feel about my shitty life? I’d just rather those people just not know anything about me. And it’s hard to know who those people are so, nobody knowing is where it’s at for me.

  Ranger got super old and died in his sleep when I was 11. Bix was a gift from my dad just before he killed himself.

  Do you hate PB&J now?

  KF: No. I love them. Always have.

  I know you said you’d never been suicidal, but will you promise me that if you ever get anywhere near there, that you’ll call me — seriously. Just call me. If it’s from you and I’m anywhere near my phone, I’ll answer.

  D?: I’d never give anyone the satisfaction, or the heartache. But yeah, I promise. And thanks. That’s a lot.

  KF: No it isn’t. It’s practically nothing.

  D?: Okay, you’re basically too good to be true. You know this, right?

  KF: Shut up. Not true. You’re just too used to hanging out with assholes.

  D?: Well, that’s true too. But I’m serious. Have you ever been mean? Do you have any bad habits?

  KF: Plenty.

  D?: Oh my god! That’s your answer!? LOL. Name one.

  It’s not that I don’t have vices. I have loads, but put on the spot like that. I suddenly couldn’t think of anything… like at all. First thing that came to my mind—

  KF: I squeeze toothpaste from the middle.

  D?: You monster! Come on, everybody does that. Try again. Dig deep, this time I want something really awful.

  Not everybody does that. I have to have my own toothpaste it bothers other people so much. But, I like having my own toothpaste, so I kind of do it on purpose now.

  KF: I don’t know… What have you got?

  D?: Keeping up with your toothpaste habits? I don’t always change my oil when I’m supposed to.

  Does anybody? I mean, Julian probably, but anyone other than him? I tried to think of things that annoyed other people.

  D?: I mean, real stuff. Like I have to double and triple check things like locks and seatbelts, if my shoes are tied, if I turned the stove off. The more anxious I get the worse it gets. It can be super annoying.

  KF: I hate dramatics, so when anything really dramatic happens in my life, anything direct, I just ignore it, don’t think about it, and basically pretend it’s not happening until it goes away. Or until Julian fixes it for me.

  D?: Okay, okay. At first I was thinking, that’s not so bad but… having other people fix it for you? Yeah, that’s kind of shitty.

  I have a hard time trusting, so I sometimes act like a jerk so no one ever really gets too close. Like, I was always acting jealous with Lindsay and letting her know I was suspicious of her cheating, long before she ever started cheating. Truth is, I don’t even know if I’m the jealous type. I think I just like trash talking. And I know I didn’t like her getting to know me. Anytime she’d find out something, like, that my dad was dead, she’d pout and say, “Awww, poor baby.” Then she’d give me head or something, as if that would make it all better. I don’t know. It was kind of fucked up, but I never stopped her, which is also fucked up.

  KF: Damn. Yeah. That’s fucked up. Give me a minute. I know I’m a bitch, I’ve just never been asked to prove it, you know? This is weird. I’m sure Julian could tell you tons of shit, but now I’d feel super lame having him bail me out on this.

  D?: LOL!

  KF: I don’t know it’s probably lame. But, some people — that I’m actually really close to — think I’m super optimistic. I’m not, but they seem to think I am because I don’t seem bothered by things, and they think I’m avoiding dealing with stuff. But the truth is, I’m super cynical, so I’m basically expecting bad shit to happen. But even when I need someone to talk to about stuff, I don’t talk to them about it because I can’t stand the dramatics. So, they think I’m avoiding, but really, I’m just avoiding talking to them about it.

  Oh, I just remembered something I did that was super mean. I trash talked these girls so hard I made them cry. It was right before auditions. I did it to win it, and I did. I confessed to Julian later, and he just said, “If they can’t take it…” Then he shrugged. Then he told me to never do it again because “Nobody likes a rude cunt, Darling.”

  I honestly think I’d be a much more horrible person if not for Julian. He’s practically angelic.

  D?: Okay, the first one just makes sense. The last thing anybody needs when they’ve got crap to deal with is more crap. The second one, yeah, that’s pretty harsh. Good to know you’ve got some spit in ya!

  D?: Hey, anytime you need someone to talk to, I’m here. I know Julian’s your go to, but I’m here for you too.

  Kayley came in just then. “Oh good, you’re awake. Mom said she’d order pizza if somebody else picked it up. I tried to ask Kimber. She’s in Mom’s office, crying. She threw a book at me. Will you go? Please, please, please, please, please, please, please?”

  “Yeah, I’ll go.”

  “Eeeee!” Kayley squealed. “You’re the best!”

  KF: Thanks Dominic.

  KF: I’ve gotta go. Talk to you later?

  DW: Count on it.

  ・❀・❀・❀・

  Dear Diary,

  I’ve kind of met someone. His name is Dominic. He’s got some issues, that are mostly just a lot of shitty people in his life. But he’s a fighter. He’s smart, resilient, strong. He’ll make it through. He’s also very genuine and real, and straightforward and honest about who he is, which is rare and kind of amazing and definitely refreshing.

  Inevitable downside — We’ve never actually met. He’s words on a screen. I don’t really know what he looks like except for one small picture. I don’t know if he’s tall or short, I don’t know the color of his eyes or what his voice sounds like… For all I know he could be two foot seven or seven foot two with flaming red demon eyes and when he talks he sound like a chipmunk who laughs like a donkey. I just don’t know.

  So I wonder, can you really know a person if you’ve never actually met them? The more I think about it, the more I know it’s possible, I mean, books are a perfect example, right?

  Shit. As much as I know about him, it’s also very clear to me that I don’t know anything about him, really. But somehow, there’s a connection.

  It’s hard to explain. Maybe it’s just knowing some of his complexities…

  I am who I am… and so is he. Human X Human.

  Just me,

  Kat

  Chapter 7

  With Julian’s help, I’d been blessed with a flawless schedule to start my year. Even so the first week of school was still a bit of a whirlwind. Probably because everything was new. New school, new friends, new hair.

  Going without hair extensions for the school year was an easy choice. At this point it only took me about 10 minutes to get all my extensions in and looking amazing, but it only took me five minutes to blow-dry my hair and stick a couple of cute bobby-pins in it. This meant I had extra time for fancy eye liner and perfect brows. Still, the plan as soon as I turn 18, I’m gifting m
yself some permanent make-up. I love make-up, I love doing my make up, but I know I would love having some of it already done for me even more. Especially at 7am on a cloudy weekday.

  Monday morning Dominic texted a picture of a Kit-Kat bar.

  D?: Breakfast of Champions?

  D?: Thinking of you… And bacon and eggs.

  I texted him back my own picture of breakfast which was a leftover chicken breast I’d stabbed onto a fork.

  KF: Cold protein left over from last night’s dinner.

  DW: I’m jealous.

  Kayley and Kimber were forking down eggs and toaster waffles drowned in syrup. It looked yummy, but my body isn’t sugar primed, so it mostly looked like a tummy ache in the making.

  Life is full of choices. How to act, how to react. I could choose not to bore you with a rundown of my entire class schedule, but I’m not going to, because the more details I get into now, the less I have to go over later, and that’s something we can all be grateful for. Later. I hope you brought enough gum for everyone…