The Talk
Catherine POV
Catherine placed her hands to her knees, and pushed down in an effort to make them stop bouncing. It didn’t work. Instead of just her legs trembling with her nerves, now, her arms shook, too.
Across the living room, her mother’s sharp gaze watched her from over the magazine. Catherine avoided meeting her mother’s stare at all costs. It was just easier this way—it made it seem like she wasn’t open for conversation.
Apparently, Catrina didn’t care much about that.
“You know,” her mother said, “I assumed you were either having sex, or you were … doing other things, but I wasn’t sure until today. Why didn’t you talk to me?”
Catherine shrugged. “I didn’t have anything to say, Ma.”
Catrina lifted one perfectly manicured brow high. “Nothing?”
“No.”
“For how long?”
Catherine made a face, and continued avoiding her mother’s gaze. “A couple of months.”
“Around your birthday?”
“Do we have to talk about this?”
Catrina laughed dryly. “Catherine, do you think you’re ready to be having sex if you’re not capable of having a mature conversation about everything?”
Catherine’s molars ached when she grinded her teeth. Her mother had a good point, but that didn’t exactly mean she wanted to admit it.
“We’ve talked about sex before,” Catherine said quietly.
“We’ve talked about logistics, safety, and things, sure. We’ve never talked about intimate things, or whatever else.”
“Shouldn’t those things be private?”
“Should they?” Catrina asked back. “You’re sixteen. I think it would be inconsiderate of me not to be concerned about things, Catherine.”
“Well, what kind of things, Ma?”
“Well, for one, do you enjoy intimacy?”
Catherine’s face reddened. “Ma.”
“It’s a simple question. If sex or any kind of intimacy is traumatic in some way—be that it hurts, or is scary, or even uncomfortable—that’s something to consider. My question remains the same, dolcezza.”
“It’s …”
“Hmm?”
“Good,” she finally settled on saying.
It didn’t necessarily describe how wonderful and amazing it felt, or how Cross treated her with careful hands and more, but it was enough. She was not going into more detail where that was concerned.
Some things should be private.
“Good,” Catrina deadpanned.
Catherine peered over at her mother, and smiled a little. “It’s really good, Ma. He’s … considerate? Yeah, that’s a good way to say it.”
Catrina pursed her lips. “Okay.”
“What else?”
“Did you feel pressured—before, now … anytime?”
“No,” Catherine rushed to say. “Never.”
“How often do you feel a need to be intimate in a place like school?”
Yep …
There it was.
Catherine knew it was coming.
All over again, her face reddened.
“That was the first time,” she admitted.
“I take it you understand—”
“How stupid it was? Yeah, I got that, Ma.”
“I bet.” Catrina sighed, adding, “but I was going to say, I take it you understand how irresponsible it was.”
“That, too.”
Catrina tossed the magazine aside. “See, sex can be wonderful, Catherine. And no one should ever make you feel ashamed or put down because you enjoy sex. Whether some of us in this house like to admit it or not, you’re just like every other human coming into adulthood. You feel the same things—need and want the same things. Some of those things are intimate and physical in nature. You may not be at an age where it’s easier to accept what you do, but pretending that you don’t do them certainly won’t help.”
“Daddy’s very angry at me.”
“Yes, he is.” Catrina shrugged, and said, “Truth be told, at first it was probably the shock of realizing his daughter isn’t the same little girl who used to refuse to wear anything but a tutu. After that shock wore off, his anger changed direction, and now it’s what you did, and where you did it.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“He’s due his anger, Catherine. You have to understand why he has it.”
Catherine chewed on her inner cheek before asking, “And what about you, Ma?”
“Hmm?”
“The anger he has with you for not telling him that you thought I was having sex, or for putting me on birth control without talking to him about it. Do you understand why he’s angry?”
Catrina smiled. “I understand—I don’t agree. Therein lies the difference between our circumstances with your father at the moment. You were in the wrong. He only thinks I was in the wrong.”
“Don’t you think he might not have been so angry or shocked had you talked to him about … me and sex?”
“Probably.”
“But you still think—”
“That he needs to climb down from his high horse, or I will knock him down from it, yes.”
Perfect.
Catherine could already tell it was going to be difficult to live in her house for the unforeseeable future. Definitely not fun, all things considered. Her parents were two of the most stubborn people she knew, and neither one of them backed down from a fight.
She didn’t want to be the reason they were fighting.
Yet, here she was.
Being exactly that.
Yeah.
Perfect.
Not five minutes later, Catherine heard the roar of a familiar engine. Her father’s car. All over again, humiliation filled her to the brim, and her heart felt heavy.
It was only made worse when her father came into the house, found her in the living room, and said nothing.
No, he only stared at her.
Disappointment looked back.
“Catherine,” her father said.
She looked up at him. “Yes, Daddy?”
“There’s only two things I want to know at the moment.”
“Okay.”
“Are you being safe?” he asked.
Catherine’s gaze darted to her mother, and then back to Dante. “Yes.”
“Have you ever felt like you had to do something that you did not want to do?”
“No,” Catherine said quickly.
“All right.” Her father waved a hand at the doorway. “Go to your room.”
She barely made it out of the living room before the yelling started between her parents. She didn’t come out of her room until morning.