Page 4 of Consultation with Dad's Best Friend
I don’t speak for a moment because I don’t feel good about this. I can’t imagine Kitty walking home even during the day. I don’t remember not seeing any homeless around the campus. One time I was almost mugged. I parked on the street that day, and I was walking to my car after school, carrying my messenger bag on one shoulder. Suddenly a guy who headed toward me pulled the strap of my bag as he passed me. I didn’t see it coming because what kind of idiot would rob a six-foot-tall, hundred-fifty-pound, twenty-five-year-old young man? He almost got me, but I reacted quickly and held on to my strap. The fucker let go of it and ran away. There wasn’t much of a physical confrontation, but it shook the hell out of me. Just to think that such a crime could happen during broad daylight and to a robust young man like me made me paranoid. I was more careful after that and always slung the strap of my bag across my shoulders. I was lucky to get away unharmed. If the guy were crazier and decided to fight or had a gun, the story might end differently. No, I can’t let Kitty go through a similar experience.
“Okay, I won’t speak to him. But I’ll find you a different apartment,” I say firmly.
Her mouth hangs open. “You can’t be serious, Mike. The University Park isn’t the safest neighborhood in town, but not that bad either. Besides, the place I stay isn’t that bad. It’s close to campus, and the price is reasonable. I couldn’t find anything else nearby with that price.”
“You have a car, so what do a few miles of commute matter?” I say. “Let me take care of it. I’ll find you a better, safe place within five miles of the campus.”
“Okay,” she says with an eye-roll. “Jeez, you’re so much worse than my dad.”
I know what she means. John is way too careless with his daughter. He leaves her alone and lets her do whatever she wants, saying she can take care of herself just fine. That’s a reason for Kitty being so spoiled.
I don’t respond to her comment but ask instead. “So, have you decided on your major?”
She nods vigorously. “I decided it a long time ago. I’m majoring in psychology.”
I raise my eyebrows. “What’re you going to do after you graduate?”
“Marriage and family therapist.”
I nod, not surprised at the choice at all. I can totally see her in a white gown offering advice to clients. “I guess you’re serious about your doctor games, Dr. Kitty. The title suits you!”
She giggles. “Stop teasing me.”
I chuckle. “You know what? Once you become a doctor, we can work together. Any clients whose marriage you fail to save, you’ll send them to me.”
Her mouth opens, and she says defiantly, “Oh my God, Mike. That’ll be immoral! Besides, I’ll be a good counselor with a high success rate, I promise you!”
“I like your confidence, Kitty, but don’t be so sure of yourself.”
“We’ll see,” she says with a tilt of her chin.
I stifle another chuckle. I was only teasing her. In fact, I’ve worked with family therapists in the past, but in a different direction. I referred my clients to them in order to give the marriages one last chance.
As I contemplate, Kitty interrupts my thoughts. “Why aren’t you married, Mike?”
I’m taken aback by the question, and I stutter. “I, well, haven’t met the right woman.”
She blinks. “Are you sure? You’ve had all those gorgeous girlfriends.”
Shit. This is so awkward. I am discussing my personal life with a girl I used to babysit. But since she’s a grownup, I blurt out the real reason. “To tell the truth, I don’t believe in marriages.”
“Why is that?” she asks with a frown. And then she answers her own question. “Oh, I get it. It must be your job. You’re a divorce lawyer.”
“I’m a family lawyer, Kitty, and there is a difference between the two. But you’re right.” Most of the cases I handle are divorces. Seeing how married couples turn to enemies who fight for child custody and property rights on a daily basis leaves me little faith in marriages.
“I’m so sorry,” she says, putting a hand on my arm. “It must be very stressful to you.”
I’m bewildered by the gesture, and I pause before I speak. “It’s okay, Kitty. People can be happy without marriages. In fact, the world might be a better place to live without the marriage institution altogether. After all, fifty percent of marriages end in divorces nowadays,” I speak to her as if she’s one of my associates.
She gasps. “You’ve become such a cynic, Mike. The way I see it, is that fifty percent of marriages aresuccessfuland that’s a good number. It means plenty of happily married couples like my dad and Debra. Besides, you would be out of job without marriages.”
Damn. She’s a smart little cookie. “You’re right about that, kiddo.”
She rolls her eyes. “I’m not a kid.”
She’s right about that, too.
Chapter 5
