Page 56 of Daring Enzo

How difficult it is to pull away.

I constantly remind myself this therapy journey is solely for my benefit, not simply a ploy to win her back. I’m still thinking when I spot two kids who caught my attention a while ago. Something about them just feels… familiar. It’s like I’m looking at myself from the past… down to the swagger in his walk and the lift in his voice.

Ruben's anger flares as he confronts Laurel in the dimly lit hallway, his towering figure draped in a black hoodie and faded jeans casting a long shadow over her. Laurel, dwarfed in her oversized sweater, tries to shield herself, her brown hair veiling her face, her voice quivering with a blend of fear and desperation.

"What were you thinking, Laurel, sneaking out at that hour?" Ruben's voice is a harsh blend of worry and fury, his frustration etched deeply in his furrowed brows.

Laurel recoils, her stance defensive yet fragile. "Ruben, I had no choice. My stepdad... he was having one of his episodes," she stammers, her eyes wide and fearful, avoiding his penetrating gaze.

"That's reckless, Laurel! You know the dangers," he snaps back, his impatience palpable as he paces, his fists clenched in a visible struggle to contain his anger.

"I was scared to be there alone with him, Ruben. It felt even more dangerous," she insists, her plea barely audible, her eyes scanning the hallway, seeking an escape from the suffocating tension.

Ruben's anger peaks, his voice rising. "You should have called me! How many times have I told you to keep your phone charged? But no, you had to drain it playing games, leaving yourself helpless when it mattered most!"

I'm frozen, my cleaning tools idle beside me, as I witness their intense confrontation. Laurel's distress is heartbreakingly evident, Ruben's tirade swinging wildly between concern and outright control.

Laurel tries again, her voice a whisper of desperation. "Ruben, please, I'm sorry. My phone just... died."

A wave of realization washes over me. Have I ever made Kelly, or anyone else, feel this trapped, this powerless?

"I can't stand this, Laurel! It's too risky for you to just disappear without a word," Ruben's voice booms, his body language a mix of worry and command.

"But my stepdad was—" Laurel starts, a flicker of hope in her voice, seeking understanding.

Ruben cuts her off, dismissive and stern. "Your stepdad isn't the issue here! You need to act more responsibly!"

Watching them, I see a mirror of my past mistakes—the thin line between caring and controlling I once walked without realizing.

Ruben, in his fervent attempt to protect, doesn't see the fear he instills, the same fear I once unknowingly sparked.

Compelled by a sense of déjà vu, I step forward. "Ruben, let her speak," I say, my voice calm yet assertive, hoping to pierce his bubble of righteous anger.

Ruben whirls around, defensive, echoing my past reactions. "And who asked you? Mind your own fucking business!" he snaps, the resistance in his voice mirroring my once stubborn pride.

"Listen, you might think you're helping, but this? This is not protection; it's intimidation. You're scaring her more than helping," I tell him, hoping my words will bridge the gap between his intentions and his actions.

Ruben's defiance softens into confusion, a reflection of my journey from denial to understanding.

Laurel, seizing the moment of calm, barely whispers, "Let's just go home, Ruben."

Their dynamics, fraught with tension and misunderstanding, serve as a stark reminder of the delicate balance between concern and control—a balance I've struggled to find myself.

Ruben, however, remains obstinate. "Why are you always up in my business? You're just a janitor, what do you know?" Ruben scoffs, his words dripping with arrogance. “Who are you to tell me what to do?”

I feel a surge of frustration and judgment rise within me, wanting to shake him and ask, "What is wrong with you?" But then I pause.

Is this how others saw me? Is this how Kelly saw me?

I understand Ruben; truly, he has a point. She may have been in danger of leaving home late at night. However, Laurel was already in danger at home, and right now, he is not explaining it with care and love… just being controlling and another abuser in her life.

Attempting to reason further, I implore, "Ruben, please listen," but he is already grabbing Laurel's arm, dragging her away.

“Laurel, follow me,” Ruben commands, and she stumbles after his long strides. I couldn't help but feel a pang of frustration as I watched them leave.

A mix of frustration and understanding settles within me. Ruben's actions mirror my past obliviousness to the toxicity of my behavior. His dismissal of my advice was reminiscent of my resistance to similar counsel in the past.

He doesn't see what he's doing. Just like I didn't.

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