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Chapter 14

Guy

The Friday before Thanksgiving break, I got to see Kitty do standup at an open mic in Cambridge. The crowd was packed with her supporters: her roommates, some people from her improv group, Colton because he was doing whatever Violet wanted, Mikey because he wanted to tag along, and of course, her number one fan, me. No sign of the frat bro from Kitty’s last hookup, which I was a little too happy about. Probably a third of the bar was crowded with Kitty’s fans.

Kitty stepped on stage to loud cheers.

“Wow! Cambridge really loves to see the funny white girl show her stuff!” she joked as the applause died. “Thank you, thank you. I’m Kitty Gatto. For those of you who don’t speak Italian American wop, that translates to Kitty Cat. And yes, Kitty is my real first name. Not Katherine. Not Kate. Not Kit. Just Kitty.”

Violet let out a loud, “WOOOOO! We love you, Kitty!”

“Thanks, Mom,” Kitty cracked, making the room erupt again. “So my parents had trouble having kids.” The room went ghostly quiet. “That’s not funny, though. That’s not the joke. Could you imagine if it was? And I was just standing here waiting for you to laugh at that? I’d be a monster. And like, one of you would give me a sympathy laugh.” The laughter broke again. That was a format I’d seen Kitty play with over the years: dropping something morbid and then following up by acknowledging that it’s not funny. It put crowds in the palm of her hand, building trust in seconds.

“What’s funny is that after all their trials and tribulations, they finally had a son. And my darling older brother is named Frank. Standard American name, right there. Frank Gatto. Totally normal, right? But my mom still wanted a little girl. And they tried, and tried, and finally got their wish. I came along!” She put her hands on her hips to milk the crowd. She got what she wanted.

“But instead of a normal standard American name like Frank had gotten, they said, ‘No. She will be Kitty Gatto. We want our daughter to be Kitty Cat.’ But the thing is, if they had wanted to make Frank’s name into a cat pun, they could have. They completely left Felix Gatto on the table.” She looked out into the crowd, absorbing the laughter. “Frank Gatto instead of Felix Gatto. Could have had Felix the Cat. It never ceases to amaze me.”

The laughs kept coming. Kitty told a story about a wild trip to a sex toy shop in the suburbs where she had to pee behind a dumpster filled with raccoons. My sides hurt from laughing and I felt extra special to have met one of her apparently many vibrators.

I was so happy to see Kitty shine like that. Nerves weren’t even part of the equation. She was just natural, beautiful. In her element.

After her show, we all went to a party on campus. I wasn’t drinking because I had a game the next day. Kitty had asked us to be friends, and I respected that, but I wanted to be available in case she changed her mind. While I was waiting for the bathroom, I heard some bros talking.

“You gonna be a chuckle fucker tonight?” one asked.

“The fuck is that, bro?” another responded.

“You know. You fuck comedians. Funny people. I guess half the people here are from the comedy scene,” the first said.

“Hard to fuck a funny person when women aren’t funny,” the third said. I gritted my teeth and fostered a fantasy of snapping that idiot’s bones like a twig. Still, I laid low. Kitty probably wouldn’t like me beating the tar out of someone to defend her honor.

When I finally made it out of the bathroom, I saw Mr. Women Aren’t Funny chatting up Kitty. She looked decently tipsy but not drunk. I didn’t want her hooking up with anyone but me, period, but I definitely didn’t want her hooking up with that guy.

I walked toward them, running my finger down Kitty’s arm when I got there.

“Oh, hey, Guy. What’s up?” she drawled.

“Can I talk to you for a minute?”

Her expression went dark almost instantly, eyes shooting out daggers. “Now?”

“Yes, now,” I said, trying not to show how agitated I was as I pulled her toward the door.

“Are you cock-blocking me, Guy?” Apparently, hell hath no fury like a cock-blocked Kitty.

“You don’t want to hook up with him, Birdy.”

She huffed, turning to square up with me. “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What do you mean, coming from me? I’m trying to help you!”

She glared at me, her hands balling into fists at her sides. “Why do you care who I hook up with? You didn’t even want me to touch you. You may as well have shoved me off you again.”

My stomach dropped. This was unexpected. “Birdy—” I started, taken aback.

“Don’t ‘Birdy’ me,” she snapped, eyes filling with tears. “You pity fucked me in the dark so you wouldn’t even have to look at me. Or I guess not even pity fucked. Pity finger banged! And then, you ran off. You think I’m disgusting. Just your best friend’s little sister to fool around with when you feel sorry for her. Your ugly secret. It’s just like high school again, Guy.” Her voice caught. I couldn’t believe how much pain was in her tone.

“Kitty, you’re my best friend,” I said, trying to get through to her. I put my hands on her shoulders. She instantly wrenched out of my grasp.

“You didn’t even kiss me after it was over.” A single tear fell down her cheek. I wanted to die. Something I did was making Kitty cry. How could I? I grabbed for her hand, desperate to make her pain stop. She whipped it out of reach.

“Kitty—” I protested again, but she held up her hand to stop me, not looking directly at me when she delivered the next part.

“I get it if I’m just another notch in your bedpost like everyone else, but don’t get mad when I move on.”

Her eyes flashed back to mine for a second. Then Kitty turned on her heel and stormed back into the party, swiping at her cheeks as she went.

I stood, stunned. Kitty thought I didn’t like her. She thought I didn’t care about her, when she’s the only one I ever cared about. I thought I’d been caring. I thought I’d conveyed that I wanted to see her again.

But I’d never told her how that night in her bed made me feel. How it was the most precious night I’d ever had. How it felt insulting to call it just fooling around, because it was so much more to me. How much self-control it took not to let her finish the job with me, but I wanted to go slow. I wanted her to feel good when we did that again. I wanted her to really want me, not just feel like she owed me one.

I didn’t tell her how being with her made me think it was time for us to try.

Fuck . I had my work cut out for me.

* * *

About an hour before we had to go get on the bus to go to Yale the next day, my phone rang. Heather Gatto flashed on my screen. I panicked, thinking something was wrong with Kitty and she was calling to tell me.

“Heather? What’s wrong?” I answered in a rush.

Heather’s warm voice filled the line. “Oh, nothing’s wrong, babe. Why do you sound like that? You alright?”

“Oh, yeah, Mrs. Gatto. I’m fine. I just thought maybe you were calling about Kitty.”

“Why? Something wrong with her?” Heather asked, surprised.

“No. No. I just saw her yesterday. I think she’s fine,” I said, trying to calm my voice.

“Good. Well, Guy, do you have plans for Thanksgiving?”

“Actually, I don’t. I usually stay on campus.”

“I’ve got a better idea. We waited too late to book a flight for Kitty, so we rented her a car. She’ll be driving back and we’d love it if you came with her. Stay a few days, then you can go back together. We’d come get you but we’re driving to Michigan to pick up Frank.”

I hadn’t talked to Kitty since the night before when she told me off.

“Does Kitty know?” I asked.

“Oh, yeah, she told me to call you so you wouldn’t think she was making it up,” Heather said with a laugh. “It’s a long drive, but you two are getting to be two peas in a pod again. Road trip with your old buddy!”

Did Kitty actually want me to go home with her for the break? It didn’t sound right given how she and I talked the night before, but I was glad for any chance to spend more time with Kitty.

I laughed nervously. “Yeah. Really fun. Um, yeah, that sounds great. Count me in. Thanks for the invite, Mrs. G.”