Page 123 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“And me,” Scott echoes.

Tommy sort of raises his hand to also be included, too. “Same.”

I think all of us bond instantly at that moment. A brotherhood has been formed.

“And how’s that stubbornness?” Keith asks.

“Let’s not talk about that,” Scott says.

I nod. “It’s just gonna make us all mad.”

Keith lets out a short laugh then looks from Cat to Bella. “Please reiterate to your mother that I’m not going anywhere. I care about her deeply and I can’t wait to get to know the two of you better...but let me not disrespect her wishes more than I already have.” He waves a quick goodbye to all of us. “I hope to see all of you again soon, but I have to go now. I have a special lady waiting for me at the hospital.”

We watch him walk back to his car, then Bella turns to look at me. “I like him.”

“Me too.”

Everyone confirms the same thing, but Peter shakes his head. “I don’t like him. I think your mom can do better. I mean, I keep asking her if she’d rather be with me.”

Ever since Peter met Mrs. Diaz, he’s been making comments like that. I don’t know if he means it or just says it to piss the girls off.

Cat slaps his arm. “That’s disgusting.”

The day continues with the same upbeat banter and jokes, back and forth insults between us.Men in Blackisn’t bad, but it isn’t great either. Peter makes detailed comparisons to the original one with Will Smith then gives us a full rundown of all the great movies from the 90’s during lunch. It’s fun being with all of them, but as the afternoon progresses, trepidation builds inside me. The fun time is almost over, and I can feel the change happening in my body. I’m getting more edgy.

When we drop the girls off at home, Peter, Scott and Tommy decide to stay longer, but I have to head home. It’s time for me to be Dana’s big brother. Bella walks me back to my car and traps me in a tight hug for a few minutes. We both know the drill. I leave and then she won’t hear from me until next Friday, but neither of us ever say it out loud that this is what’s going to happen. She holds me a little tighter. She kisses me a little longer, but we never acknowledge the giant elephant in the room.

“Thanks again for the riddle-adventure...and the gift,” I say, clutching on to the anchor. “You’re amazing.”

She shrugs with a flare of arrogance. “And that’s me on an off day.”

I chuckle, then pull her into my arms. “I love you...so much. You’re the best thing that could’ve ever happened to me.”

I indulge in one more kiss before I finally find the will to get into my car and leave. I arrive home and sit in the car for a few minutes. I’m excited to see my sister, but at the same time, I’m filled with so much dread.

The first hour or two, she’s a maniac, unleashing all her anger and resentment she feels toward my parents because she’s not living at home with us. After she calms down, we have a few good hours. We eat dinner as a family. We talk. Sometimes, we watch a movie. It’s great. Shit hits the fan at bedtime. None of us sleep and the pattern repeats itself on Saturday. She’s fine during the day, but she loses her mind at night. And then Sunday comes, we go to church; we have lunch, and then we get a full-blown tantrum when she has to leave again.

I take a deep breath, then exit the car and walk inside. My mother’s already making dinner when I enter the kitchen. “Is she here yet?”

“Yep, she’s upstairs.”

“Mood?”

“Moderately bad. Maybe give her half an hour or so.”

I’m already heading toward the staircase. “I can handle moderately bad.”

Taking the stairs two at a time, my excitement overtakes my dread. I haven’t seen her in eight weeks, and just because the weekend ends up being a nightmare, it doesn’t mean I don’t love having her back at home.

I tap on her bedroom door to announce my presence, then stick my head in and find her lying on the bed. “I’m coming in.”

My sister taught me that a boy always needs permission before he enters a girl’s room, so I wait for her to give it to me. It’s not explicit. I don’t get a yes, but I don’t get a protest either, so I enter cautiously. She sits up straight, instantly going on the defensive.

“Hey, sis. How’re you doin’?”

She’s a younger version of my mother, with her mousy brown hair and deep brown eyes. Those same brown eyes are shooting daggers at me right now. “What do you care? None of you care. All of you just leave me to rot in that place.”

This is a trauma tantrum. The first rule is to remain calm, no matter how tense it becomes. The second rule is to not engage until the other person is calm and ready to talk.

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