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I chewed a nail and debated what to say in response. Finally, I replied.
To: Morgan, D. L.
Sent: November 12, 6:48 PM
From: McDermott, Katherine M.
Subject: Re: Your Submission
No, please don't. I don’t want to see you ever again.
There was no response. I wrung my hands. He called my cell, again and again.
Finally, I had to block his calls, my hands shaking. I deleted his voice messages without listening. But I saw his texts.
Kate, what happened between last night and lunch?
Tell me.
Let me talk to you. Please…
I want you.
Oh, God…
I debated whether to reply. If I did, it would only encourage him, but I felt bad just cutting him off like that.
This is just the way it has to be for your own good. Please stop calling and texting me. It won’t do any good.
He responded immediately.
For my own good? What does that mean?
Kate, don't do this…
I put my phone away.
I sat in my quiet apartment, my phone shut off completely and sitting on the coffee table. At any moment, he could knock on my door, so I decided to leave. I picked up the cell and ignored the message notification indicating I had five messages waiting to be read.
Five?
He was persistent. I ached to read them, but I knew if I did, I'd crumble. Instead, I called my father.
On the third ring, he answered, his voice sounding distracted, but still pleased.
"Hey, sweetheart, to what do I owe this pleasure?"
"You're at home?"
"Yes, I'm on leave so I can plan for the election. What's up? Is everything OK?"
I chewed my nail, wondering what to say. "Can I come and stay there for a few days?"
There was a silence on the line as if he was processing what I said. When he spoke, he sounded more engaged, his voice low and soft.
"Of course, Katie. What's the matter?"
He called me Katie. He only called me that when I was a child and then when I was sick after Africa. I knew then he was worried, wondering if I was having a relapse. "I just need to get away for a while."
