Page 51 of Daring Enzo

“So, you’re just taking Kelly’s side in this? Are you seriously saying Kelly is blameless here? Because Kelly struggles with commitment, always too fearful to fully engage, yet somehow, I'm the one being painted as the villain."

“Ugh…” she groans in the phone in frustration. “Stop trying to play the victim, Enzo. We’ve all spoken to Kelly, and she realizes her fault in this. You’re not the only one who’s finding it difficult … you would rather blame others to get out of admitting the truth. She tried, you know… and gave you so many chances. You’re the one who continued to blow her off.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I ask angrily. I get up from the floor, ignoring the tension in my muscles and the litter of paper, broken shards of glass, and throw pillows strewn across the floor.

“How many times did she ask you about Mom? But instead of telling her, you shouted and shut her up?” she asks pointedly.

“What the fuck does it have to do with anything?” I ask my hand in a fist. Why can’t she just let it go?

“Everything. You would be lying to yourself if you insisted it had nothing to do with the way you are. It affects you more deeply than you realize. Each time you evade the conversation, opting instead to suppress your feelings, you're only compounding the problem. How can you expect to build a meaningful relationship with anyone under these circumstances?

“So, you’re happy I’m in pain?” I ask her. I get her point, but it really hurts my ego and I can't just shrug it off.

“No, Enzo. I’ll never be happy to see you hurt. I’m your sister, and I love you but it doesn’t mean I should shy away from telling you the truth. You only see the truth when you're hurting, so I hope you learn from this," she explains.

Her voice is like a whisper as she doesn’t think I’ll truly change. It hurts more than anything else she’s ever said. My lips droop, the fight leaving me as I sit on the armrest of my chair.

Maybe she’s right after all.

The thought is difficult to swallow. I clear my throat, trying to dispel the darkness crowding my mind.

“I’ll speak with you later, Alessia. There are things I need to think about.” I drop the call before she can say anything else and toss my phone.

I bury my head in my hands, feeling worse than I did before I even began this conversation. Every single thing about this sucks. As I reflected on it, my mind stuck to her words. Alessia has been so brutally honest with me, it's clear she's always had this thought but couldn't express it.

I run my hands down my face. Every word comes back, punching me in the chest. Is everything she said true? Has my behavior been so bad for such a long time that I can no longer recognize it? My eyes gravitate to the phone and I pick it up, scrolling through my contacts. I read through messages with my exes.

I read them one after the other, their words driving me to an even worse low point than I have ever imagined possible. Controlling, scary… these words stand out in every conversation with each ex. Alessia is right. I hadn’t paid any attention to these messages as I hadn’t cared enough to read them properly at the time.

Me: Hi, it’s Enzo. I don’t know if you still have my number.

I wait after texting a few of them.

Cassie: I don’t know what you’re on but please lose my number and never text me again.

Talia: You have some nerve texting me after what you did. Don’t you dare message me again.

Pam: Fuck off, ASSHOLE.

Messages continue to pour in, none welcoming or even neutral. My phone slips through my fingers as reality dawns. I truly was a terrible boyfriend; none had anything good to say or even wished to speak with me. A name crosses my mind, and I pick up the phone immediately. I scroll through my old social media, mouthing her name until I come across it.

Me: Hey, Emily, I don’t know if you still use this account, but this is Lorenzo Lombardi. We dated in high school.

Emily was the very first girl I dated and the one I was most evil toward, from what I can remember.

Me: It feels very silly to message you out of the blue, but I just read through our conversation again and was wondering if you’d like to talk.

Gripping the phone tightly, I prepare for the insults and the inevitable end of our communication. My eyes are fixed on the screen as I ready myself for the insults I’m about to receive before she tells me never to speak to her again.

Emily: Sure, I remember you. Surprised to hear from you, though.

Emily: Where are you?

My eyes bug out as I read her response. I sit up straight, nervousness shooting through me rapidly. I didn’t think she would respond and be so cordial to boot.

Me: I’m in New York.

Emily: Oh, I live out in New Jersey.

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