Catherine Fiske is pissed. Her husband's nowhere to be found, she just
Just had her heart broken for the first time, she truly believed she was in love. In a time where love consisted of group dates, online messages when one was supposed to be tucked away asleep and conversations about a near future that seemed like it was the only goal in sight because this was the happiest she could ever be. As though life stopped at sixteen and everything else was background noise to selfish abandon of everything else.
She steps back into the house quietly so no one would hear her, tiptoes up to her room and opens the door to see her father. He doesn’t look too pleased. In terms of parenting, she’s got it good with him: he’s lax, understanding, fun, when she’s late for her curfew he gives her a little nudge but this seems to be different. It probably has to be since she snuck out the side door after curfew to go hang out at the house party.
He says absolutely nothing, just looks over at her, and before he has a chance to give a fatherly chat about breaking rules, she bursts into tears.
Julien is taken aback by this at first but in no time Kaitlin has rushed over and has her arms wrapped around him, crying into his shoulder.
“He broke up with me. I don’t know what I did wrong.”
“Nothing, cherie. These things happen. Not everything lasts.”
By the time she’s finally calmed down a little bit more they’re downstairs with their respective snacks of choice. Him, a chocolate bar. Her, a bowl of grapes.
“The thing is, Kaity cat, you are a hurricane.”
She remembers the words of her mother from a few years ago and looks down sadly. Of course she has to be a hurricane: loud and destructive. Never the type to be demure and tame. To that, her father has something more to explain.
“You are the kind of girl that won’t soon be forgotten. People may not know how to handle you sometimes, but those are the best kinds of people in this life. They roll into your existence, they make things brighter, they switch things up, and then when they leave you are never the same. Not everyone can handle that, true. Then they are not meant to be in your life. But those who can handle it? Those who want to? Those who choose to? Ah. Those are the kinds of people you will fill with so much joy and they will be forever grateful to have even known you.”
The night starts out as a simple get together dinner between friends who haven’t seen each other in a while but of course, it can’t solely end there. That would be far too easy for this group of individuals. They keep things rolling by going to a live music bar that’s far too upscale for them so they decide to take on new fancy personalities to try and blend in.
Kaitlin creates Savannah Smith, the fast-talking, independent lawyer originally from South Carolina who has decided to be brazen with her red lips tonight, drinks whiskey with the boys and feels somewhat out of place without her pencil skirt but you wouldn’t be able to tell with how she carries herself in this outfit. She manages to impress Tom the investment banker on vacation from Washington. He doesn’t know when to shut up but he’s got gorgeous blue eyes and after he’s had one more drink he starts getting interesting. They make out a little, and he asks for her number so he can see her again.
“I’m just out here trying to have a little fun, nothing serious, but I’ll be thinking about your lips for a while.”
She kisses right next to his ear and then jumps off the stool and makes her way back over to her friends so they can leave. The crisp air is welcomed as Mia takes her arm, giggling about the sext she just got from the photographer she’s been seeing. Eventually the next location is decided on the go: karaoke bar.
When it’s her turn to go up, she does a moving if not highly overdramatic performance of You Oughta Know by Alanis. She starts out by sitting on a stool and then gradually gets bigger with it as the song goes on. She grabs the microphone and skips through the crowd of people as though she’s at Madison Square Garden with a spotlight on her and everyone is there to watch her perform.
She takes a guy’s hat and places it on her head before throwing it back to him, she sits between two girlfriends and has them join in as harmonies, she flings her back against the wall as her left hand raises to her forehead to showcase the raw emotions meant to be felt with the tone of the song. The crowd is feeling it now, perhaps largely because of her conviction, and as the song comes to an end everyone is singing along. You, you, you oughta know. Flashes of more that went on that night: she gets the 22 year old working at the liquor store to throw in an extra bottle of JD for the small price of grabbing her girlfriends to pose in a picture with him so he looks like a “true g,” his words. She dances on a table at bar #3, makes a bunch of new friends from Brazil while the group is walking down the street and gets handed a snapback from the guy whose mixtape she buys.
It’s 2 AM and they’re at a park now. Smoking, talking, laughing. Someone blasts some music for their phone and as though her legs work on command to the tune of a good beat, she gets up to dance.
“Damn girl, you’re not tired?”
“I’m digging the moves but my ass is not waking up at 10 AM for those ballet beautiful classes.”
“You’re making my head spin just watching you.”
“Are you the black swan or the white swan tonight?”
“Hurrikaitlin, in her true essence.”
“Hurrikaitlin! That’s fucking perfect!”
“I’m not a hurricane!”
“No, you’re a hurrikaitlin. Now let me get in on this dancing.”
“Gabe, wait!”
He’s already stormed out of the party, throwing his jacket on as he walks as fast as he can to get away from the crowd, to get away from her. He looks back over his shoulder for just a moment so he can roll his eyes at the fact that she is so desperately chasing after him when he very clearly does not want to deal with her anymore. Typical Kaitlin, can’t leave it alone if she wants to address it.
“Go back inside, Kaitlin. I’m not having this conversation with you for the hundredth fucking time, alright?”
The night is turning to be on the cooler side which she feels at full force because of the fact that all she’s wearing is a flimsy sundress. They’re a few blocks away from the bar at this point and finally she’s able to catch up to him, putting a hand on his shoulder.
“Gabe, please.”
He turns around and removes her hand with a disdain that causes her breath to catch at the back of her throat, her lips instantly curling into a frown. He once looked at her with all the love in the world but now his eyes are filled with absolute disgust.
“Don’t give me this innocent act, it’s all bullshit. You’re just mad because I got pissed off, but who wouldn’t get pissed off when their girl is all over the fucking place and everywhere but with the guy she came with?”
She’s genuinely hurt given that these are not things that have ever come out of his mouth before so almost instinctively her hand motions get exaggerated and her voice raises.
“What are you even talking about? We were having a good time, I was letting you do your thing, you don’t mean that.”
He can’t help but laugh. He wonders if she knows she’s as oblivious as she is beautiful.
“You ran off to do whatever the fuck it is you wanted to do, I watched you flirt with everyone that gave you a passing fucking look in that fucking bar, you got sloppy drunk, you had absolutely no regard to me at all. Your only real concern was if your tits were falling out of your dress. Wake the fuck up, Kaitlin. This isn’t a game and this whole act is cute at first but it gets old fast.”
She walks right up to him, shoving his chest, voice in an even higher octave.
“I’m not playing a fucking game with you, Gabe. This is me. This is who I am. I’ve never been anything but real with you about myself, good and bad. You don’t seem to have a problem with it when we’re alone in your apartment and we’re both naked. How fucking convenient of you. Always a problem when we’re out having a good time because you fucking hate joy and love sucking the life out of everything.”
He takes a step back, pointing an accusatory finger at her.
“That’s fucking rich. It’s not about fucking, this is life. This isn’t just sex. You know how your friends call you hurrikaitlin? They were right, you are a hurricane. Because you come into people’s lives, get comfortable, and then you fuck it all up before you leave and they’re left to deal with the shattered pieces. You’re a fucking disaster, Kaitlin. Good fucking night, and if it wasn’t obvious enough, we’re done. No. I’m done being dragged down by your immature bullshit.”