Page 101 of Meant to Be

CHAPTER 23

Joe

As upsetting as our visit to Montclair was, I think it brought Cate and me closer. I certainly understood her better than I had before, so many things crystallizing, including her motivation to drop out of high school and move to the city. I also got why she had always resisted romantic relationships, doing her best to keep men at arm’s length, the way she had with me in the beginning. Even now, she didn’t want to talk about what had happened with her mother and Chip, and whenever I tried to broach the subject, she would shut down. I decided I should leave it alone for a while, giving her time to work through what she was feeling.

About two weeks later, I tried again.

“Cate, can I ask you something? About your mother and Chip?” I asked, just after we’d made love. She was lying in my arms, and I felt her body tense.

“Okay,” she said, sounding more than a little reluctant.

“Growing up…did you ever try to get help? Like from a teacher or counselor or Wendy’s parents?”

“No,” she said.

“Why not?”

“I was too afraid.”

I wrapped my arms more tightly around her, then said, “Afraid that he’d hurt you and your mom?”

“Not me. But her. And hewouldhave,” she said. “For sure.”

“Did he ever hit you?”

“No,” I said. “For the most part it was just verbal abuse. But I always felt that he was one trigger away from smacking me around, too. I think he held that over my mom’s head as another way to control her. If she didn’t play ball, I was next.”

“Damn,”I said under my breath, feeling a fresh surge of rage toward Chip. Honestly, I was afraid of what I might do to him if I ever saw him again.

“And anyway,” Cate said. “If I had told? Nothing would have happened to him. He would have denied it. Called me a liar. It would have been my word against his. And he’s a cop—”

“But people would have seen the cuts and bruises,” I said, feeling nauseous. “They’d have to believe you.”

“No they wouldn’t, Joe,” she said. “That’s not how this stuff works. My mom would have denied it and given everyone her bullshit about falling down the steps…and at that point, what could anyone do? They can’tmakeher admit it.”

“Yeah,” I said with a sigh. It was a pattern I’d seen and heard about, both anecdotally and in the course of my job. It was probably why my colleagues who worked on domestic violence cases seemed to burn out the quickest, not to mention the social workers, who did the really soul-crushing work.

“Plus, if I’m totally honest—” Cate hesitated. “It wasn’t just the fear of Chip. It was also a fear of what people would think of my mom and me. I know that sounds bizarre…. It does to me, too, now that I’m older and away from it.”

“What do you mean? They’d just think you were victims…of something terrible.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Exactly. But I didn’t want to be a victim. Iwas ashamed.” She was silent for several seconds, then lowered her voice and said, “On some level, I still am.”

“Oh, Cate. You havenothingto be ashamed of!”

“I know thatrationally,” she said. “But it always felt like a social class thing to me—”

“That’s not true,” I said as emphatically as I could. “Domestic violence doesn’t discriminate.”

“I know thatnow. But as a kid—I couldn’t see it. And I just felt so powerless. I think I internalized a lot of things that Chip was telling me…. That I was dumb. That I’d never amount to anything. It was hard not to feel…worthless.”

“When did that change?” I said. “As soon as you left home?”

She didn’t answer right away, but I could hear her breathing—and also feel her chest rising and falling against mine. “It took a long time. Averylong time,” she finally said. “And sometimes…I can still hear him…and I still believe him.”

“Oh my God, Cate, no. You’resoamazing—”

“I’m really not, though, Joe. You always say that. And I appreciate it—I really do. I love that you see me that way. But if I were amazing, I would have gotten my mom out of this situation.”

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