Chasing Caitlyn

by Marnie Cate

  Images of the day my father brought the car home flashed before me. We had just finished dinner, and he casually said, "Oh, I left your gift in the trunk of my car. Could you go get it for me? I need to make a quick phone call."

  When I frowned, he added, "It will be quick. Get your present and we'll open it together."

  I entered the garage, flipped on the light, and screamed. Under the fluorescent light sat a convertible with a big silver bow on the hood. Keys dangled before me as my father hugged me from behind.

  "Happy Sweet Sixteen, darling Caity," my father said. "It is a special car for a magnificent young woman."

  "Gregory, it must have cost a fortune," my mother gasped.

  "No price is too high for my girls. I wanted to get you a brand new one, but the deal I got on this 25th Anniversary Coupe was too good to pass up. I hope you like it."

  "Like it? I love it!" I laughed throwing my arms around him, almost knocking him down.

  "Gregory, convertibles are so unsafe," my mother scolded. "If she is ever hit, she will go flying out of the car." She shuddered in horror for effect.

  "Our girl is a safe driver and the seatbelt is meant to hold her in." My father kissed my mother on the cheek and whispered something in her ear. Her eyes lit up at whatever he said.

  "You’re right. She is a good girl," my mother said, stroking my hair.

  "Great. Shall we go for a ride?" He handed me the keys and swept the bow to the ground.

  After the customary checking out all the controls, I clicked my seatbelt, and asked, "Where to?"

  "Wherever the road takes us!" he joked. Leaning out of the car, he called to my mother, "Are you sure you won't join us, Hill?"

  "No, no, you two enjoy," she responded.

  "Head North," he cried, and we were off.

  I pulled out of the driveway and relived that day. Instead of taking the Interstate and arriving at our destination much faster, my father taught me how the coastal roads were energizing. It may have taken extra time, but the view of the ocean and the salt air whipping through my hair washed away all thoughts. There was nothing, but the moment.

  Driving down Coast Highway towards Carlsbad State Beach, I played the beach music that was gifted with the car. I could almost hear my father belting out a plea for Rhonda to save his broken heart. When I arrived at our favorite spot, I sat in the car, just staring at the ocean.

  I was scared if I left the vehicle I would lose a piece of him. He's already gone. You can't lose him again, Caitlyn.

  Forcing myself to face my fears, I walked towards the water. My heart was heavy. My head filled with the unleashed tears drowning me.

  Dipping my toes in the water, I heard a small voice cry out, “It is too cold, Daddy.”

  A male voice responded, "Dip your toes in, little one. You're entering the magical home of mermaids and the king of the sea."

  I heard the joyous laughter from my small self as he lifted and dipped my toes until I was comfortable enough to splash on my own. I would never hear his strong words of encouragement again. Before I could stop myself, tear flowed down my face, and soon, I was sobbing uncontrollably.

  When I finally composed myself, the sky was filled with the purple and orange hues of the sunset. I slowly breathed in and out, releasing my tension. Today, I said goodbye. I would not let myself lose control like this again. I would be the strong daughter he thought I was. I would make him proud.

  Three

  By the time I arrived home, it was dark. I entered the house, and found my mother sitting at the kitchen table with a stack of papers.

  "Good, you're home," she said, quickly shoving the papers into an envelope. "We need to talk."

  "Is it about your appointment today?" I asked nervously.

  "Yes, please sit." She patted the table. As soon as I sat down, she was up getting food out of the fridge. "Let me warm this up for you. You must be hungry."

  "I'm not. Just tell me what is going on," I said with an edge in my voice. Immediately, I regretted my tone. "Please, just sit and tell me. I can eat later." I forced a smile and mimicked her patting the table.

  "Oh, ok." She sat down, and began biting her bottom lip. "Today, I met with Mr. Charles." She took in a deep breathe. "Caitlyn, I can't sugar coat this. We need to move out of our home. We can't afford living this lifestyle without your father."

  "But, he had life insurance. Savings? He always told me how important it was to be prepared," I cried.

  "Honey, your father spent more than he made. If…he hadn't," she quickly clamped her mouth shut.

  "‘If he hadn't’ what?" I asked.

  "Your father made some risky investments. We are moving into Grandma Jane's house. It has a great high school there and you will be able to visit your friends."

  "You can't be serious! My senior year and you want me to start over at a new school?" I jumped up, knocking my chair over.

  "Cailtyn, calm yourself," my mother scolded.

  "No, this is your fault," I screamed, and ran to my bedroom.

  I slammed the door for emphasis and threw myself onto my bed. This time I had no tears. The well was dry.

  Not long after my tantrum, a small knock sounded on the door. I pinched my eyes shut, feigning sleep. The light from the hallway filled my room. I waited in anticipation.

  After a few minutes, my mother softly said, "I'm sorry it has to be this way. I'll do my best, Caity."

  I lied in bed, hearing her words, over and over. I was losing everything I knew in one fatal swoop. The reality of it all consumed me, and I willed myself to sleep. I needed to escape it all.

  I woke suddenly. The alarm clock read 2:33 AM. My stomach growled. Today – no – yesterday, I had not bothered with food. I devoured grief instead.

  Sleepily, I shuffled to the kitchen. In the fridge, I found a glass container with some tomato soup. I tossed the lid in the sink and put it in the microwave. As my food heated, I contemplated stopping the timer, but paused when I thought about a mouthful of cold broth. To pass time, I poured myself a glass of iced tea and set it on the table.

  In the center of the table laid a manila envelope with the return address of Oxford & Charles, Attorneys at Law. Does this explain why we are losing our house? I picked up the envelope, and then quickly set it down. The beep of the microwave sounded, ending my debate.

  I stared at the packet of papers in front of me as I ate my soup. It was taunting me. He was your father. You have a right to know, it called.

  Like a mad woman, I answered, "I want to know, but didn’t Pandora open a box once?"

  It’s already opened. Just look, it called again.

  "Fine, I'll open it, so you will go away. I’ll be locked up if anyone hears me talking like this," I said aloud, shoving my soup aside.

  I pulled the papers out and carefully sorted through the pile. Past due credit cards. Bank statements. Our house mortgage. A second mortgage with a larger payment?

  Searching for more details, I found an address in San Diego. Flipping through the papers, I found another sheet with the same address. It was closing documents.

  Words popped out of the page. Walking district of Bankers Hill. Mills Act. I scanned to the end. It was signed by Judith Savage. I sighed with relief. The law office had messed up and put her paperwork in our envelope. It was understandable. After all, she was riding in the car with my father, and died alongside him.

  The easy explanation was squashed when I saw my father's elegant signature listed under borrower. It made no sense. Did he help her buy a house?

  "Caitlyn put that away," my mother hissed.

  I ignored her and flipped to the next page. A purchase contract for a Porsche. Again, Judy and my father both signed as the borrowers. Before I understood what I was reading, it was ripped out of my hands.

  "This is not your business," my mother cried

  I lunged, trying to take it back.

  "No!" she shrieked. "This is my problem."

  "Why did he buy her a car and
house? What else is in there?" I asked.

  She pulled a long lighter from a drawer and lit the papers on file. Like a mad woman, she shook the burning pile. "Leave it be, Caitlyn. Let his secrets die with him," she pleaded.

  When the fire began to burn out of control, she threw it into the sink to burn out. I ran to save the papers. She couldn't keep me from the truth. As I neared her, my mother caught, and pulled, me into her arms.

  "Nothing in there changes how much your father loved you. The only thing you can take from this is to never sit back and be the helpless woman. Always protect yourself… no matter how much you love the man."

  The night I found the envelope shattered me. Had my life been a lie? Every loving gesture, every moment was scrutinized. When my brain could handle no more, I drifted off to sleep.

  The next morning, I found my mother in the kitchen. The woman of my childhood was before me once again, as if nothing had changed. She was perfectly posed to play Gregory Chase's wife. Beautiful appearance. Immaculate house. Cheery disposition.

  "Good morning, Caitlyn. I prepared a document for you with all the information you need to know about your father and Ms. Savage. We shall speak no further on the unsavory subject. We will remember Gregory as the perfect husband, father, and surgeon he was," my mother said, handing me a square envelope.

  I stared at it. Caitlyn was written in beautiful calligraphy. She even took the time to wax seal it with our family monogram. It seemed more like she was inviting me to a dinner party, not revealing the secrets of my unfaithful father.

  "Come, sit and eat your breakfast. You can read that later," she insisted, setting down a plate of my favorite Bananas Foster french toast, sprinkled with roasted pecans.

  In a daze, I picked at my breakfast. The entire time, I eyed the envelope.

  "Go ahead and open it. You won't enjoy the meal I prepared until you get this over with," my mother scolded, and slid the letter closer to me.

  My hands shook as I opened it and pulled out the single piece of texture paper from inside.

  There were only six words. He loved you. Nothing Else Matters. All my questions were not answered. She decided to seal the issue, and I would never know the truth. Instead, my mother told me to forget what I saw.

  Our eyes met, and I saw her desperation…her need for me to let it go. Was she right? Did nothing else matter? Suddenly, a huge weight was lifted from me. I understood.

  It wasn't Hillary Chase avoiding the truth. It was how she preserved her sanity. Pressing my mother to answer questions about my father's indiscretions would not change the life we had before. It would only tear her apart… and maybe me, as well.

  I slid the paper back into the envelope, closing this chapter of my life. Resting my hand on hers, I smiled, and said, "Thank you."

  Four

  One month later, we moved into my grandmother's house. It had not been occupied since her death, two years earlier. My childhood memories of spending time with her were ones I remembered fondly. Still, as much as I loved her cottage-style home, change is never easy.

  The place I lived in had been three times the size of our new living space. My bedroom now felt more like a cell. I tried to be positive, telling myself it would be less than a year before I left for college. Not to mention, we were closer to my father's favorite beach. Still, I struggled.

  Since the house was fully furnished, my mother insisted we only take the essentials, allowing us a couple of suitcases each. The executer of my father's will arranged for the sale of all property we left behind. The proceeds, along with his life insurance, were used to pay off the majority of his debts. Anything that didn't sell would be donated to charity. Hillary Chase wanted to box it all up and forget that chapter of our life.

  With encouragement from her friends, my mother decided to go into business for herself. The planner extraordinaire would use her gifts for work. Event planning would be how we paid our bills.

  When school started, my classes ended at one o'clock. It irritated me that, after lunch break, I had to stay on campus to attend the final class of my day. However, I pushed myself for the first three years of high school, so my required courses were fewer. I attended the community college for a dual credit class.

  I made a point to be invisible. I didn't want to make new friends, and the old ones slowly stopped reaching out to me. I just wanted to get through this part of my life. I went to school and I kept to myself, but my attempt at isolation was futile once I meet Thomas Martin.

  It was a typical day. Like I had done for the last two weeks, I found a corner of the lunch room unoccupied. There, I ate my fruit salad and read until the bell rang.

  "Oh no, this won't do, Sweetie," a voice called, pulling me from my fantasy world.

  My eyes met his. Thomas Martin was in my English class, but I had never spoken to him before today.

  "Did I take your seat?" I asked, tucking my book into my backpack and picking up my lunch.

  “Honey, you need a makeover. Let’s go," the boy said, grabbing my hand.

  Before I knew what was happening, I was letting a stranger drag me out of the cafeteria to the Dance classroom. We arrived at the massive room and he dropped the bag onto the floor.

  "Stand right there," Thomas commanded. He proceeded to dig through his duffle and frantically pulled out clothes, piling them into my arms. "Go change," he insisted.

  When I didn't move, he pointed to the restroom. "Go on. The bell is going to ring, and I am not letting you leave until we fix this mess."

  In the bathroom, I put on the short skirt, button-up top, and black jacket he gave me. I stared at the black and white tie, unsure what I was supposed to do with it. I tried to tie it, but gave up.

  Thomas was dancing in front of the mirror when I returned to the room. There was no music. He finally noticed me, and grinned. "Now, for the final touches."

  Holding up black thigh-high, heeled boots, he held them out like an offering to a queen. "You can walk in heels, right."

  Nodding, he helped me slip into my new shoes. I was unable to find the right words. While I zipped up the boots, he slid the tie off my neck and wrapped it around my waist like a belt. I jumped back in surprise.

  "Woah, Princess, you're safe with me. You're not my type." He held up his hands in mock surrender.

  My face must have shown my surprise.

  "You're missing the right equipment."

  I raised my eyebrows.

  "I'm gay," he explained.

  "Oh," I fidgeted, unsure how to answer.

  "It's not a secret Caity Cat, but I don't run around waving my flag." He laughed and hugged me.

  Leading me to a chair, he pulled out beauty products and wildly began to brush my hair. I caught a glimpse of the high ponytail he was creating before he began to apply powder to my face. With the skill of a makeup artist, he brushed, lined, and blushed.

  The warning bell sounded, and Thomas stopped me from leaving. "No worries. We'll have time. My masterpiece is not finished yet." Holding out a burgundy lipstick, he said, "Kiss me."

  "Um," I wriggled in my chair.

  Sticking out his lips in an exaggerated pucker, he waved the lipstick. Understanding, I laughed and obeyed. When he finished lining my lips, he dragged me to the mirror.

  "Welcome to the new you, honey. Gone are the sad days. I just know we'll be the best of friends." He grinned and hugged me again.

  Five

  Thomas was right. From that day forward, we became inseparable. I found a best friend and a new group of friends. It made me sad my old classmates were out of the picture, but I didn't have much time to dwell on it.

  The first time I brought Thomas home to meet my mother, he charmed her. She doted on him like he was my boyfriend. I was nervous to tell her why Thomas would only be ‘just a friend’.

  One day, after he left, I decided to address the situation.

  "Mom, I have something to tell you." I cleared my throat, and then blurted it out, "Thomas is gay."


  My mother raised her eyebrows at me and laughed. "The best ones usually are, dear. Did you really think I wouldn’t know? One would have to be blind and deaf to not know this."

  "You're ok with it?"

  "It is none of my business. Thomas is a wonderful boy. I am so happy you found such a good friend."

  With her acceptance, our relationship only grew stronger. Weeks passed, and Thomas became a fixture in our lives. He would come home with me after school and eat dinner with us. He was an instant family member…the brother I would never have.

  One evening, as Thomas was leaving, my mother stopped him. "I would like you to come over for breakfast tomorrow."

  "Of course, Mrs. Chase. Seven o'clock early enough?" Thomas asked.

  "Sleep in and join us at eight. It is the weekend, dear."

  Thomas raised his eyebrows in question? I shrugged and mouthed, "No idea."

  The door closed. "Why is he coming to breakfast?" I questioned.

  "I want to talk to him about the situation." I was surprised my ostrich-of-a-mother wanted to talk about an issue, instead of burying her head in the sand.

  The next morning, Thomas arrived for breakfast and found a Hillary Chase feast.

  "Cailtyn, why don't you take your plate to your room or the patio," my mother suggested.

  "But," I began to argue.

  Thomas grinned. "I think that is a great idea, Mrs. Chase—"

  "Hillary," my mother corrected.

  "Hill and I have so much to learn about each other," Thomas winked at my mother, who blushed like a school girl at the nickname.

  I began to choke on the sip of orange juice I had taken.

  "Maybe the patio would be a better choice, so we can watch you," my mother said with a serious tone.

  They exchanged a look and burst into laughter. Through the window, I watched the two of them eat and talk. From that day on, Thomas was the son my mother never had, and she was the mother he always wanted. The amazing thing about Thomas was that he kept the two relationships separate. He never broke my mother's confidences, and promised mine were just as sacred.