Catching Caitlin Read online

  Catching Caitlin

  by Amy Isan

  Published by Amy Isan, 2013.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  CATCHING CAITLIN

  First edition. July 22, 2013.

  Copyright © 2013 Amy Isan.

  Written by Amy Isan.

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  The End

  Chapter 1

  “Dammit,” I sighed, sweeping back my hair. I slammed the trunk of my car and fumed, still turning over the events of the day in my head. Earlier in the morning I opened a letter from my college, and it said exactly what I thought it would: my scholarship wasn’t being renewed. It went on to explain that my grade point average was too low to maintain the scholarship. There wasn’t much I could do but go back to my parents’ house.

  The idea left a sour taste on my tongue.

  I barely packed anything and mostly threw my belongings into the back of my old-ass station wagon, getting ready to drive away from the embarrassment that was my school career as fast as I could.

  I climbed in and was thankful that the aged leather didn’t set my thighs and hands on fire.

  My car started up on the first try, which was another thing to be thankful for. Last week it was being a lot more temperamental. I’m glad it was something to help my mood out. I swung out of the parking lot and made my way toward the highway.

  As I drove down the road, it dawned on me that I should have called my parents to let them know I was coming. But would it have really made a difference? I rolled down my window, letting the greasy smell of my college town air out of my car. Both of my parents had been drunk last time I saw I was in town. I didn’t expect that part of them to have changed. My slipping grades certainly wouldn’t sober them up.

  I daydreamed, thinking of what I was going to do with my time off. I told myself that I would just reapply in the fall, but I knew this was a delusion. Not only had my grades slipped, but my motivation to keep going as well. Maybe I should try getting in touch with one of my friends.

  Aaron came to mind, and I smiled. I knew he had graduated on time and headed back to Maine. While we never got together in high school, I always had a feeling things might go in that direction. Maybe I would find out when I got home.

  With the sweet breeze tickling me and the drone of the highway suffocating the sound of my old car, I was given some peace. At least for the next four hours.

  I dreaded talking to my dad the most. He always had a way of going on with lecturing me, as if he had the solution to all my problems. Eventually I stopped showing up, then I stopped calling. All told, I don’t think I had been back home in three years.

  I squeezed my steering wheel, turning my knuckles white. I didn’t even have a roommate to say goodbye to. The thought of sharing with someone just didn’t sit right with me. What if they stole something? Maybe I was a little bit of a shut in.

  ***

  Hours passed, even though it felt a lot longer. The trees edging the side of the highway all blurred together, with small pockets of color from spring. There weren’t many other cars on the highway, just some truckers lazily feeling out the limits of their lanes.

  I ran out of music to listen to, so I shut the radio off. I was sick of listening to The Beatles for what felt like the hundredth time. The landmarks around the highway soon became more familiar, and I started thinking about the last time I had made this drive.

  Thanksgiving dinner, freshman year. It didn’t go very well. My mom was drunk and my dad gave me a slurred monologue about how bad his life was. It ended with him telling me I shouldn’t ever complain about anything. After we screamed at each other, I holed myself up in my room for the rest of the weekend. I returned back to the college that Saturday.

  I hoped things would go better this time.

  ***

  Pulling off the highway, I headed down the hauntingly familiar streets to my parents’ house. I took a detour through the heart of downtown, wanting to see if any buildings had been knocked down. I mean, there were at least two or three that were crumbling when I left, so I hoped the town had grown a little.

  April was in full bloom. Delicate pink flowers were bursting all over the trees down Main Street. I slung my arm out the window. The owner of a local flower shop waved to me. I smiled, waving back, sure he didn’t recognize me.

  Most of my friends from high school had moved out to the west, saying, “They were sick and tired of the east coast.” I wish I could have followed them, but the only college that accepted me with a large enough scholarship, was the University of Maine.

  Aaron was all too lucky to get to go out west, to some college in Idaho or Montana or somewhere. I don’t remember the name, but I remember thinking the pictures of the campus looked nice.

  After a couple minutes of driving, I found my parents’ neighborhood.

  This would be temporary, wouldn’t it? Otherwise it would be my home, not my parents’ place. In another old dilapidated suburb that was built in the 1970s, with weird colors and even stranger houses.

  I pulled into the driveway, my car lightly screeching to a stop. I leaned over my steering wheel and looked up at the house.

  Where I expected to find a broken down house with worn windows and thirsty grass, I found an impressive house I barely recognized. I glanced at the house number with some disbelief. I knew this had to be it, but had my parents moved after all?

  The last time I was here, the house was in only what I would call shambles. Back then, the grass was patchy and dead in spots, the trees unpruned and wiry. The paint was fading and the wooden shingled roof decaying. Now, it looked almost decadent in comparison. A thick and luscious lawn, fresh yellow paint, and a brand new roof. I couldn’t help but gawk at the sight of it all.

  Maybe it should have eased my fears, but seeing the house fixed up only made my throat tighter. Had they moved and not told me?

  I turned my car off and climbed out. I cautiously made my way to the front door.

  I fumbled for my key and, to my surprise, the lock turned. I walked in and saw that while the outside looked fantastic, the inside was still the same. That lingering smell of smoke permeated the air, discoloring the white walls to a pale yellow, and clinging to my clothes. Same old, same old.

  “Hello! Anyone here?”

  I shrugged off one of my bags, letting it crumple to the floor.

  I heard the sound of bare feet on hardwood, and my dad turned the corner of the entryway, looking confused.

  “Caitlin? Is that you?” my dad said. When his eyes caught me, he rushed up and hugged me, taking me in his arms. I hugged him back, a little surprised at his strength. His voice was clear and even. “I didn’t know you were coming, did you try calling?”

  I wheezed. “Yes...” I lied.

  He pulled back and held me at arm’s length, giving me a gentle squeeze. He had aged, no doubt, but he looked younger. His eyes didn’t look as exhausted, and they were clear and bright. His clothes looked neater, less rumpled. If someone had told me he wasn’t my dad, I would’ve believed them.

  “Cat, you’re looking good, but I shouldn’t be surprised.”

  He leaned over and picked up my bag. A necklace slipped out of his shirt and dangled in front of him. It had a medallion on it. He chuckled a little.

  “Dad you l
ook great, did you lose weight? What happened?”

  “I got sober, that’s what happened.” He grabbed the medallion and held it up for me. “I’ve been sober for two years now.”

  “Oh my god,” I covered my mouth in disbelief. “That’s incredible!”

  He laughed, his cheeks creasing with dimples. “It is a long story, and I’ll have to tell you another time. Do you want to see your mom?”

  I nodded. He started walking down the hall, calling out my mom’s name: “Tammy! Cat’s home!”

  He pushed open the door to my parents’ bedroom and I saw my mom laying in bed, looking groggy and tired. Her night stand had a couple of empty beer cans on it.

  My heart sank. My dad might have been sober, but my mom wasn’t.

  I bit my lip, hoping I wouldn’t have to see her like this.

  “Danny what are you yelling for? Is Cat actually here?” my mom said.

  “Hi mom,” I said.

  She lifted her arm, beckoning me to come closer. While my dad looked younger, she looked a lot older.

  I sat on the bed next to her, and she touched my arm with a sigh. “I’m glad you’re home.” She let out a dry, hacking cough. I put her inhaler in her hand. A quick pump and sharp intake of air later, she was okay.

  That made one of us.

  ***

  After our bittersweet reunion, I dashed back out to my car to start moving. It took a couple of trips, but I managed to drop the last box of junk in the center of my room before I broke a sweat.

  Standing there, I realized how eerie it felt to be home again: the same lightly washed color that I had left it when I went to college. Three walls were painted a deep red, while the last was painted a blue. The objects littering my dressers and sheets were things I decided were for “high-school” me, and didn’t belong in my life anymore.

  Sitting on the bed the sheets and springs sank with their characteristic moan. I was used to them from sleeping in the same bed since I was eleven. Even then, it was a hand-me down from my parents.

  I picked up my alarm clock and corrected the time The face of it was covered with dust. Everything in the room was really, muting the colors of the dressers and bed sheets. It’d all have to be washed, which was agitating.

  I frowned. I really wanted to be anywhere but here.

  “I should call Aaron,” I mumbled to myself. I slipped my phone out of my purse and dialed his number, hoping it was still the same.

  “Hello?” Aaron's voice came loud and clear.

  “Oh thank god you answered.” I leaned against my bed, flattening my pillows.

  “Cat? Is that you? What you are doing?” I could hear his TV through the phone.

  “I was going to ask you, are you still in Bangor?”

  “Yes...” he hesitated, and I heard the TV turn off, “are you? Do you want to get together? Go to a bar or something?”

  “That’d be fantastic. Can you come pick me up? I just drove from UM, my legs feel like bricks.” I absentmindedly rubbed my knees, the chill of the house getting to them.

  “Totally, I’ll be there real soon — you’re still down by Pine Creek right?”

  “Right.” He hung up. Goodbyes weren’t really his thing, never had been.

  I tossed my phone aside and closed my eyes, wondering how the night would turn out.

  ***

  Aaron came to my house and knocked in his usual way: three quick raps. I darted down the hall and let him in.

  “Aaron, I can’t even remember how many times I’ve told you that one cares if you just come in.” He looked good though, somehow pulling off a denim jacket. He looked a little stronger too, but I didn’t comment on it.

  He brushed something off his sleeve and stared at the ground for a moment, like he was watching dust fall off his jacket. He met my eyes.

  “I just can’t get over the feeling that I’m being rude,” he finally said.

  “You’re not,” I said, “if anything, you’re being rude by ignoring me.”

  “Okay, sorry, Cay.”

  The hair on the back of my neck raised, “‘Cay,’” I repeated. “Don’t call me that, I never let anyone call me that.”

  Aaron chuckled a little, a bit of nervousness entering his voice. “Why not? I think it’s cute.”

  I waved his compliment away. “It doesn’t matter, I don’t like it.”

  His eyes flashed. “Oh, I get it.” He continued, “you only let your boyfriends call you that.”

  I corrected him, suddenly growing a bit agitated. “No. Only one person has ever called me that, and I told him not to either, he just didn’t listen to me is all.”

  He nodded and stared at me. “Good thing I’m here, then, you do need a drink. Let’s go.”

  ***

  We headed out, he was more familiar with the town than I was at this point, especially in the “adult world.” He chose a seedy place near the edge of downtown. When I didn’t recognize the name, he assured me it was fairly new.

  We walked in after getting our IDs manhandled by the bouncer, who stared a little too long at me as we brushed past. The place was authentic, a light fog grazing the floor from the machines, and a thundering bass pounding at us from all directions. A small dance floor had a bunch of couples younger than us grinding on each other, and I smirked at the idea of even dancing. Let alone meeting anyone in this town who I’d care to grind on. Maybe Aaron?

  We sat down at a little two person table at the edge of the dance-floor, facing the bar. The barstool’s feet wobbled and the table was sticky. I didn’t complain.

  “That bouncer must’ve liked you,” Aaron said. “How did he know we weren’t together?”

  “Maybe he didn’t care. I saw him staring at me too, real classy of him.”

  He laughed, “Well he is a bouncer.” I always liked his laugh. His eyes would crinkle right up, and it was impossible not to join him. But there was a reason why we never got together. No energy, no spark.

  I waved, catching the attention of who appeared to be the only server that night. She looked frazzled and exhausted. She saw me and did her best to maneuver through the small venue, dodging between drunk customers and the like.

  “What can I get you two?” she asked, almost gasping for breath.

  Aaron smiled at her, “Busy tonight huh?”

  “You wouldn’t believe it.”

  “We’ll try to be easy then,” Aaron said, giving me a quick glance. “I’ll have a whiskey and coke.”

  The waitress scribbled, and I almost blurted out my order before she could even look at me. “I’ll have a margarita.”

  “Good, I’ll be right back.” The waitress disappeared.

  “Ugh, one of those?” Aaron said, shriveling his nose. “You know they’re premixed here. Besides,” he leaned back in his chair. “I like something a little harder.”

  I shrugged. “I haven’t had one in a long time! I think I’m allowed that much.” I slouched a little, trying to relax. “How have you been anyway? I was surprised when you told me you were moving back to Bangor.”

  He nodded. “I didn’t have a choice. My student debt kind of forced my hand. I’m almost jealous that you aren’t done yet. My waiting period was up last year, and now I gotta pay the big bucks.”

  “Don’t be. I wasn’t studying for anything great anyway — Theater. You were doing something science-related weren’t you...? Biology?” The waitress came back, pausing our conversation to hand out our drinks. Aaron paid with cash.

  After the waitress thanked him for the tip, he looked at me. “Environmental Science. That was what I cared about,” he corrected me. I picked up my drink and took a sip, savoring the salt. Aaron chuckled.

  I swallowed after thinking for a moment. “I actually took one an entry level environmental science class right before I left... I liked it.”

  Aaron nodded. “It’s interesting stuff. I don’t think I’ll ever understand why you were majoring in Theater though. It doesn’t seem like it fits you very well. Anywa
y,” he pushed away from the table, interrupting the conversation. “I’ll be right back.”

  He was good at that, just disappearing in the middle of a conversation. When we first met, it took me a while to get used to that particular habit of his.

  I scanned the crowd, having tuned out the roar of the club. The flashing lights were dancing over the ceilings, passing over the tight clothes of the other party goers. Most everyone looked pretty plain. I thought about my impromptu call to Aaron. What was he thinking when I called him out of the blue like that? It had been a while since we talked, and maybe something could blossom from that?

  No one interesting was dancing, so I looked to the bar, taking big sips of my margarita. When I saw something that made my heart stop in my throat.

  Hugh Evans.

  The liquid in my mouth threatened to choke me. I couldn’t believe I recognized him so quickly. But that pang I felt in my chest was sincere, and as real as it got. My eyes widened, and I felt my palm started to sweat as my heart raced. I forgot myself.

  Had it really been five years? Even from that across the room, he didn’t look like he had aged at all since we were teenagers. Of course, he had always been older than me, that was part of his charm. He spotted me between the passing people around us and approached me. I looked around for Aaron. Still gone. How convenient for him. Maybe it was better this way.

  I slammed my drink, trying to act like I didn’t see him. He didn’t seem to fall for it. The whole room felt like it went silent.

  “Cat,” Hugh whispered. “I wasn’t sure if that was you.”

  I nodded, swallowing my drink. I was wrong too, he had aged, but gracefully. And not just physically either, I could already see the subtle changes in his demeanor, the slight lines on his face developing.

  “It’s good to see you, Hugh,” I stood like a plank on end, barely staying upright. He must’ve noticed, moving forward and embracing me. Oh god that felt good.

  I crumpled his shirt under my hands, holding him against me. He smelled like nostalgia, that faint and fleeting sensation. And briefly, I forgot why we broke up in the first place.

  He pulled away and smiled, his eyes crinkling ever-so-slightly, that wiseness creeping in.