Page 3 of Meant to Be

I tried to believe her. Iwantedto believe her. But Chip’s moods only worsened, along with his verbal assaults and threats. I told myself there was no way he’d physically hurt my mom, no matter how mad he got, because men didn’thitwomen, especially policemen, who were the good guys.

One Saturday night in December, Chip invited my mom to the chief of police’s Christmas party. She was excited and spent all afternoon primping in our bathroom as I played the role of her lady-in-waiting, handing her various makeup brushes and bottles of lotion and perfume and advising her on jewelry and shoes. When we were finished, she looked more gorgeous than usual, her blond hair feathered around her face, her fingers and toeslacquered red to match her sparkly sequined dress. When he arrived, I went to the door with her, excited to see Chip’s reaction, expecting him to gush over her. Instead, he looked my mom up and down, made a face, and said, “You’re going for the hooker look tonight, I see?”

My heart sank, and my mom’s face fell.

“Who are you trying to impress anyway?” Chip said, his words slurring like he’d been drinking. “Nick?”

Nick was Chip’s partner—who I’d noticed was a dead ringer for the Six Million Dollar Man. Unfortunately, my mom had made the mistake of sharing my observation with Chip a few weeks earlier; he’d promptly lost his mind, accusing her of wanting to fuck Nick. I’d heard the f-word before, but never as a verb and not in any relation to my mom.

“I got dressed up for you,” my mom explained, desperation in her eyes. “Not Nick.”

“Well, I think it’s a mighty big coincidence,” Chip said. “You look like shit when it’s just the two of us and then you put on that dress when you know Nick’s going to be there.”

My mom stammered that she would change into something else as he continued to berate her, following her down the hall to our bedroom. I stood frozen in the hallway, wondering if I should go with them or escape to Gloria’s apartment. Sensing that my mom might need reinforcements, I decided to stay by her side, and even forced myself to take a deep breath and defend her.

“Chip. Just so you know, she didn’t buy that dress for Nick. She bought it foryou. It cost a lot of money, and she thought you would love it.”

I knew it was the wrong thing to say because Chip began shouting at the top of his lungs that I was a rude, spoiled brat. He then turned his wrath back to my mom, questioning the way shehad raised me and whether he even wanted to be married to someone with such a disrespectful brat of a kid. By then, my mom’s makeup was ruined, mascara streaming down her face as she sobbed that she was sorry. That we werebothsorry.

“What are you sorry for, Jan?” he yelled.

I could tell it was a trick question, and my mom knew it, too.

“For everything,” she whispered, which seemed like a safe response.

“For being a slut?” he said.

My mom opened her mouth to answer, but he cut her off, yelling louder. “For wanting to fuck Nick?”

“I don’t—” she whimpered. “I only want you—”

“For all the guys you’ve fucked in town? Look at you in that slutty dress. The town whore of Hackensack. Jesus, wehaveto move.”

As he continued to rant, my mom frantically went through her closet, then pulled out a brown polyester pantsuit. “What about this? Do you like this?”

“Are you serious? Wow,” Chip said. He shook his head, then looked at me. “Your mother here has two extremes. She can look like a slut…or she can look like a dyke. Whaddya think, Cate? Would I rather be seen with a slut or a dyke?”

I didn’t know what a dyke was, but I could tell he didn’t consider it a compliment.

“I can’t take you anywhere, can I, Jan?” he yelled. “You’re an embarrassment. A goddamn embarrassment.”

At that point, I felt a surge of hope that he might finally just dump her, like the others had. My mom would be sad for a while, but she would get over it, and we could go on with our lives. Instead, he shoved my mom into the closet door. As she crashed against it, then fell to the floor, he yelled at her to get up and get ready, that they were going to be late. When she didn’t move, hekicked her in the stomach. I watched in horror and wondered if I should call the police.

In the next instant, I remembered, with a fresh wave of terror, that hewasthe police, and there wasn’t anything anybody could do to stop him.

---