Mom asks Kate all kinds of questions about photography, and Kate seems to be so excited to talk about developing pictures and timing the best light outside. Mom asks Kate if she’d consider taking some pictures of their 25th Wedding Anniversary and Kate says she’d be honored. The fact that these two women are enjoying one another’s company so genuinely makes me so immensely happy. But, then again, I knew they would.
As the evening comes to a close, Kate and I say our good-byes to my parents and prepare for the long drive home. My mom gives Kate a tight hug, telling her how lovely it was to finally meet her. Kate thanks Mom and Dad for their hospitality.
“Take care, young lady. Keep my son in line, would ya?” my dad says to Kate.
He then pulls me in for a hug and says softly, “Hold onto this one, son. She’s remarkable.” Doing my best to hide the shock on my face, as we look at one another, I smile widely at him.
“Thanks, Dad. I think so, too.” He pats me on the back as I place my arm around Kate and guide her to the car. Opening the door for her, she climbs in. I look back to see my father standing at the door, giving me a thumbs up and I chuckle to myself, shaking my head. That man is full of surprises.
“So?” I ask a few minutes into our drive back to Evanston.
“They’re wonderful,” Kate replies.
“They loved you, ya know,” I tell her, hoping to squash any insecurity that might be peeking through.
“God, I hope so,” Kate says, leaning her head against the window. She begins to fidget with her ring once again, only this time she smiles as she looks down at the band. My nerves calm as I watch her close her eyes. Eventually, she drifts off to sleep as I drive us home. Feeling content, I know this is exactly how I want to spend Christmas next year and the year after that and the year after that. This is what happiness is to me.
Chapter 10
Kate
March 18, 2009
I’m not sure what’s compelling me to do this, to drive forty minutes to Oak Park to visit my parents. Maybe it’s Evan. Maybe I’m hoping that his persistence and his support of my dreams will help me to work up the courage to ask for theirs as well.
We’ve been together for a year and a half now and they still haven’t met him. I’m too afraid to let him see where I come from. It’s hard enough that I don’t feel like I’m good enough for him, especially when we spend time with his family. His parents are welcoming and kind, especially his mother. I adore her. I wish I felt the same way about my own mother. But, for some reason, when I’m with them, I feel like this odd puzzle piece that simply doesn’t fit where it’s being pressed. When it’s just us, Evan and I fit perfectly, but whenever we’re around others, I feel this incredible inadequacy that’s hard to explain. He tries to tell me it’s ridiculous, that he’s proud to have me in his life. No one’s ever said that before. Even though I’m proud of the fact that I support myself completely, while taking classes part time, he’s finishing up his four years at Northwestern and interviewing with huge marketing firms downtown. His world is about to change completely, and I’m terrified of what that’ll mean for me, for us.
He’s been pushing me to follow my dream of being a photographer. But, starting a business is difficult and I don’t have the start-up funds. Could I wait and borrow the money from Evan when he starts working in marketing? Yes. Will I do that? Absolutely not. What if he regretted it down the line when I failed and inevitably ended up back at the bar, serving drinks and being Vince’s assistant? Am I good at that job? Yes, but I need more, and I want to be good enough for Evan. After all this time together, I still don’t feel like I measure up. But, maybe my parents can help me.
Evan and I are both on spring break, so I thought this would be a good time to sneak away on a Wednesday afternoon. He’s working late at the bar tonight, and I have the day off. We’re supposed to meet up after his shift, but I think I have plenty of time to get back without him thinking anything is up. I know he really wants to meet my parents, but I’m not ready for that. I’ll stop at the store on the way back so he thinks I’ve been busy catching up on errands.
Pulling my Honda into my parents’ driveway, I see the perfect spring decorations on the front porch. Shamrocks and Easter eggs adorn the front door and stoop. Angeline never misses an opportunity to be festive. I ring the bell and wait for one of them to answer. I learned a while ago that I’m no longer welcome to just walk in as if it’s my home. That ended the day I moved into my apartment in Evanston. It hasn’t been my home ever since.
My mother answers the door. She looks perfect, as always. Her hair is pinned up in a dainty bun. She’s wearing a cashmere cardigan sweater and a pencil skirt. She doesn’t look overjoyed to see me, but refrains from reacting in a negative way.
“Kate, darling, what a pleasant surprise,” she says as she opens the door, gesturing for me to enter.
“Hi, Mother, it’s nice to see you,” I reply, suddenly self-conscious and feeling the need to fix my hair, which I’m sure is disheveled.
“Come in, darling. Are you hungry?” she asks, leading me to the pristine kitchen. The room is so clean it literally shines. She’d be horrified to see my apartment. I haven’t washed the countertops in over a week.
“No, I’m fine, thank you,” I say, using my best manners. I want this meeting to go smoothly. Can’t risk offending her within the first five minutes of my arrival.
“Well, come, sit down. Your father is still at work, but should be home in a little while. I know he’d love to see you.” I nod, highly doubting that my father would give two shits that I came to his house. But, I need to play along. I need her to hear me out.
“How’s Ethan?” my mother asks, as she places her porcelain tea kettle on the stove. Doing my best not to roll my eyes, I correct her.
“Evan,” I say as kindly as I can.
“Oh, that’s right, Evan. I apologize,” she says in her prim and proper voice. I want to climb the walls. How on earth was I raised by this robot?
“He’s great — wonderful, actually. We’re very happy.” I smile.
“That’s nice. Do you think you might marry him?”
Of course, that’s all Angeline cares about, when I’ll marry and how much money his family will have. Oh, and she’ll be all about planning the wedding. Too bad she’d drive me into a mental institution. It’s not that I haven’t thought of marrying Evan. It’d be incredible. But, when I think about it, Richard and Angeline Armour aren’t even in attendance. It’s just Evan and me on a beach with a judge. I’m wearing a flowing dress, and he’s wearing whatever the hell he’d want to wear. He’d look perfect in anything. No family, no friends, just us making promises to one another. Not at all what Angeline has in mind. She just wants me to get my “MRS” degree like she did and marry a wealthy lawyer who will take care of me while I have his babies and clean his house. No thanks.
“I don’t know yet if we’ll get married.”
“Oh that’s right, you’re not exactly the marrying kind,” she says, a snide tone appearing in her words for the first time during this uncomfortable visit.
“What does that mean?” I ask incredulously.
“Well, you do have a track record, Kate. You don’t share much with me, but I know you hop from boy to boy. I’ve paid attention over the years. You seem . . . what’s the word? Restless.”
“Well, that’s part of my past. Evan is my future.”
“If that’s true, I’m happy for you,” Angeline says, raising an eyebrow and pouring two cups of tea. She sits across from me and stirs her cup with her dainty teaspoon. “What does Evan do for a living?”
“Right now, he works with me at the bar—”
A look of disappointment covers Angeline’s face. She doesn’t look a bit surprised, though. “Kate, when are you going to learn that these are not the men you want to settle down with? Do you want to be married to a bartender?” If she weren’t my mother, I’d want to punch her in the face for being such a snob. And for thinking th
at Evan is anything less than wonderful.
“Mother, with all due respect, you don’t know Evan. He’s a student like me, and he’s studying marketing. He’s even started interviewing with some big companies. He’s very driven and motivated. If we were to get married, he’d take very good care of me, of both of us.” Why on earth am I defending Evan to her? Why do I even care what Angeline thinks of me or my relationship with Evan? She doesn’t matter, Kate. But, she does. And I know it.
“Well, that’s nice, darling. You know your father and I just want what’s best for you,” she replies.
“And for me to be happy, right?”
“Pardon me?” she seems confused.
“And you want me to be happy, don’t you?”
“Well, of course. What a silly thing to say.”
“Actually, it’s not silly,” I say, taking a deep breath before continuing. “Here’s the thing, Mother. Evan makes me happy, but so does photography. I’ve been using my darkroom a lot lately, and taking all sorts of photos. Evan gave me this amazing camera. I’m thinking I’d like to do this, you know, professionally.”
My heart is racing and anxiety is sweeping through me. I’m so afraid of where this conversation might lead. But, I have to persist. They are the only chance I have. Even though my parents don’t have a lot of money, I’m hoping they’ll have something to give me since I’ve paid for my own college education.
“Oh, yes, I remember you used to love taking pictures on that camera your uncle gave you. And your father bought you that machine last year. You’ve always been so artsy, it’s hard to keep up with your hobbies, Kate. One year it’s painting, the next photography. I figured you’d moved on to something else by now.” God, how her words sting. She doesn’t take me seriously, not at all.
“It’s not a hobby. It’s my passion and it has been for three years now. I’d like to make it my career. But, I need your help.” I’m barely able to get the words out, but I do my best to remain strong against her judgmental face.
“Whatever do you mean, darling? What do you need from me?” She looks defensive already; she knows I’m about to ask for money.
“Well, starting a business can be costly, and I’m basically spending all of what I make at the bar on living expenses. I was hoping you and Dad would agree to give me a loan.”
“I don’t know,” she begins, “this is really something for your father to decide, not me.”
“Why not you, Mother? It’s your money, too,” I say, wishing I had bitten my tongue. This conversation is going nowhere quickly.
“You and I both know your father makes all of the money decisions in this household, and I wouldn’t have it any other way. If you’d like me to talk with him about it, I will. But, I have to be honest, Katherine, I don’t see him offering you anything.”
“Why?” I hate the way she says my full name. It makes the hair on my arms stand up. She only uses it when she’s being condescending.
“You’re not exactly a good investment,” she deadpans.
Did my mother actually say those words to me? I’m not a good investment? Is she fucking kidding me? Who says that to their daughter?
“I’m not asking you to invest in me, Mother, I’m asking you to lend me money so that I can make something of myself doing the one thing I love to do.”
“The one thing? Hardly. Kate, you have been a pianist, a sculptor, a painter and a songwriter. You were bound to be a photographer at some point, but it’s highly unlikely that you’ll stick with it. It’s not how you operate, my darling.” Her words are like venom. My heart is shattering within my chest.
My eyes are quickly filling with tears as I come to the horrid realization that my mother has no faith in me. She thinks I’m a flake, someone who never follows through. Does she not know me at all? Or am I living in denial? Maybe she knows me better than I know myself . . . maybe Evan is the one who doesn’t know me at all. He’s been pushing me to pursue this, telling me how talented I am, encouraging me to pursue my passion. What if he’s lying to me?
What if Angeline Armour is the only one willing to tell me the truth?
“I have to go,” I say, quickly wiping the tears from the corners of my eyes before my mother can see them.
“Kate, darling, please don’t go. I wasn’t trying to hurt you. I was just being honest.”
“I know, Mother, it’s fine. I’ll be in touch soon,”
As I’m walking to my car, Evan sends a text: Where are you babe? I’m about to head to your place
Flustered from my horrendous conversation with Angeline, I quickly form a lie: Shopping with Bree, be there in 30
He doesn’t respond, but I’m so preoccupied over my disheartening conversation with my mother, I don’t think about him during my drive. I just hope he’ll be at my place when I get there. I need to feel reassured, to know that I’m not kidding myself. That Angeline is wrong about her daughter. But, by the time I reach my apartment, after stewing for thirty minutes, I’m convinced that she’s absolutely right about me. I’m kidding myself if I think I can ever pursue a career in photography. Evan’s in love with me, and therefore, being sweet and supportive. He’s being a good boyfriend. My mother knows me better. And so anger begins to rise in my chest. I need to get it out.
Walking into my apartment, I hear music playing and smell something cooking in the oven.
“Hey,” Evan says. Something in his eyes looks off. His brow looks knitted and the corners of his mouth are turned down. If I didn’t know better, I’d think he was mad at me. Great, just what I need.
“Hey,” I reply, unsure of what else to say. I’m too pissed to look him in the eye, so I take off my coat and walk to the kitchen to see what he’s cooking for dinner.
“Pizza,” he offers, leaning against the doorframe of my galley kitchen. “I thought you’d be hungry from all of your shopping with Bree.” His words have a bite to them.
“Thanks, I am pretty hungry.”
“What did you buy?” Evan says, looking back at the door. Shit, I forgot to stop at the store on the way home. I was too busy feeling sorry for myself.
“Oh, I didn’t buy anything. I was just tagging along with Bree,” I answer, still not making eye contact as I take plates and glasses out of the cabinet and switch off the timer that’s about to beep. Evan sighs loudly and leaves the room. The anger in my chest is now surrounded by guilt, which only makes me angrier. I’m a ticking time bomb just waiting to explode. I wish Evan would just go because I know this won’t end well.
Taking the pizza out of the oven, I find a bottle of red wine and open it as quickly as I can. A few sips of the velvety liquid glide down my throat. I refill the glass before filling one for Evan. He’s sitting in the living room watching television. But, his eyes look empty and vacant.
“Pizza’s ready,” I say, holding out a glass of wine for Evan. He nods, turns off the TV and walks past me to the kitchen. Glancing at the wine glass still in my hand, my cheeks redden with anger.
“What the hell, Ev?” I yell, storming into the kitchen. “What’s going on with you?”
“Where were you?” he demands, looking angry and wounded at the same time.
“What do you mean?”
“This afternoon.”
“I told you, I was shopping.”
“Kate, when you sent me that text, Bree was standing right in front of me at the bar. You lied. Where were you?” His hands are balled into fists, as he stands, red-faced and fuming just a few feet away from me. Would he ever hurt my physically? No way. But, I’m nervous just the same.
“So, you’re checking up on me now? I should’ve known this would happen eventually. No trust, Evan, no trust,” I yell, slamming the refrigerator door and banging the Parmesan cheese on the countertop.
“Don’t turn this around on me. I wasn’t checking up on you, I was checking in with you. And you lied to me.”
“It doesn’t matter where I was. Just leave it alone, Evan. I don’t want to talk about it
,” I say, reaching for my wine glass and draining it once again.
“It matters to me, goddamnit.”
“I was running errands. That’s all.”
“Then why’d you lie about being with Bree?”
“I don’t know. It just came out.”
“Don’t do this,” Evan warns.
“Do what?” I ask, looking away. I can’t look into his eyes. They’re too angry, too disappointed.
“You’re pushing me away and now I’m worried that you might be . . . ” His voice trails off, but I know what he’s thinking. He thinks I’m cheating.
“There’s no one else, but think what you want. I’m so tired of trying to prove myself to you. It’s exhausting and I’m over it,” I snap, walking away and sitting down on the couch, hanging my head in my hands.
“Proving yourself to me? What in God’s name are you talking about? All I want, all I’ve ever wanted is for you to be yourself. That’s it!” he yells, throwing his arms up in disgust. “You’re the one who’s constantly thinking you’re not good enough. And for what, Kate? Where has that gotten you?”
“Shut up, Evan. “I glare at him. “Just shut the hell up. I’m so done with this. Just go!”
“No, I wanna know why you’re pushing me away. And I want to know where you were. I’m not walking away without a fight, Kate. You’ve been pushing me away ever since we first met. It’s a fucking whirlwind. But, I’ve stayed here the whole time, with you.”
I’m appalled. We’ve never fought like this before, never teetered on the edge of a breakup. We’ve had fights, and yes, I’ve shut down occasionally, but not like this. Never like this.
“Oh, Evan the Saint,” I snip, “do you want a medal for your charity work?”
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