Page 137 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“Fuck!” He spins around, shoving his hands into his hair. He takes a few deep breaths before he faces me again. “Why is it that every time we fight, you have to bring up Fran?”

He doesn’t know that I called, and she answered. He doesn’t know I went over to his house and saw her car there on multiple occasions, so he thinks he can still lie to me.

“You’re telling me you weren’t with her during these last three weeks?”

“No! I saw her for, like, half an hour ononeday, and that was it.”

I give him one more chance to tell me the truth. “You sure? Just one day?”

“Yes. She came to check on me...and then I asked her to leave.”

I don’t know what it is about that whole statement that sets me off. He’s saying it was just one day, and that’s a lie. He’s saying that he asked her to leave, and that’s a lie because she said that they were on their way out, so wherever they were going, they left together. But the thing that’s really bugging me is the fact that she went there to check on him, which means something was wrong, andsheknew about it (as usual), and unlike me, Oscar wasn’t given instructions to detain her at the gate.

“Of course, she went to check on you,” I hiss, stabbing my finger into his chest. “Because she gets the privilege of knowing what goes on with you. She’s yourbestfriend, so you tell her everything.”

His breathing elevates at my sarcasm. “I didn’t tell her anything. My dad told her dad.”

“Mmm...” I tap my finger pensively on my chin. “And tell me how she got into your house? You tap out when you want to be alone. Surely, you should’ve told Oscar to keep her out as well.”

Frustration is mounting. Tensions are rising at a phenomenal pace. I can hear it in the pitch of my voice. I can see it in the tightness of his jaw, the way he keeps clenching his hands into fists.

“Jesus, Bella, I almost punched you in the face!” He runs his hands through his hair again, trying to bring his anger down a notch. “I would never forgive myself if I hurt you. I had to put something in place because there’s a sign on my door that you don’t respect.”

“Well, maybe I wouldn’t have to disrespect the sign if you just called me to let me know you’re okay. And don’t you talk to me about disrespect. How you treat me is not okay, Dylan. You can’t disappear for a week or two or three and then come back and expect everything to be okay. You can’t just leave without any explanation and then come back and not offer any explanation for where the fuck you’ve been!” My words are sharp, laced with acid. “I’m sorry. This is where it ends for me. You told me to stop tying my self-worth to men, to recognize when it’s them and not me. This behavior is all you and I deserve more than that.”

“You’re right.” He stuffs his hands in his pockets and stares at the floor. Again, it looks like he’s debating whether he should tell me. “Everything is just...really overwhelming right now...and I’m clearly not handling it very well. I’m trying to separate you from all the chaos, yet somehow, I’m making it more chaotic. I don’t know what to do.”

I shrug because the solution is very simple. “You know what you can do that will solve this particular problem? You can tell me the truth.”

“I will. I promise I will...just not today.”

This is the middle of the familiar circle that we’ve been going around in for months now. I’m hopping off. “Oh, you think I’m gonna wait for you to do this to me again...and again until you’re ready to tell me? Not gonna happen.”

He tries to take my hand again, but I step back, and that inch may as well be the Grand Canyon because that’s the size of the rift it creates between us. It completely deflates him. “C’mon, Bella, please don’t do this to me. You’re the best thing in my life, and I just...want it to stay that way. This is a safe space for me. Please try to understand. I don’t want to bring that shit here. And I know I keep messing up. I’m sorry, but?”

“You disappeared forthreeweeks! Without. A. Word! Don’t tell me I’m the best thing in your life because that shows me exactly where I rank on your priority list. Dylan, I know you’re going through...something, but let’s be real. I’m just some sort of escape for you. There’s no depth or anything of substance here. You use me for a good time because I’m fun to be around. And that’s fine. That’s what we both agreed to when we started this arrangement, but then at least be honest about what this is...and what it isn’t. This isn’t a relationship. This isn’t love.”

“That’s not true.” The words come out soft and stunted. “I love you. You know I love you. That?”

“See, that’s where your words and actions contradict each other, because if you loved me, you wouldn’t do what you do to me. Where was a phone call to say you missed me? I didn’t even cross your mind for three weeks to get a ten-second call like that.” I can feel it coming. The relentless ache in my chest. The excruciating tightness in my throat. Tears are coming, and I try my best to shake them off before I continue. “I know you care about me, but what you feel for me is very surface level. You don’t trust me enough to let me in. You don’t want to share anything deep and meaningful with me. That type of connection is something you only share with Francesca.”

“Fuck!” His fist slams against the wooden beam beside him. “Will you please stop bringing up Fran? And will you stop comparing what you and I have to my friendship with her? The two are not remotely close. They’re not even in the same league to be compared.”

“Well, at least that’s one thing we agree on. The two are not remotely close. She knows all your secrets and you keep shutting me out. She gets house visitation privileges, and I get detained at the gate. She gets full access to you while I have to wait on the outskirts without even so much as a courtesy call until you’re ready for a fun time again...Well, I’ve stopped waiting.”

He stares at me for a long time, his brown eyes silently inquiring until he finally voices the questions playing on his mind. “That’s, uh, that’s the third time you’ve mentioned not waiting for me...so I’m guessing that video you sent me wasn’t simply to get under my skin. I thought you sent it because you just wanted to piss me off...but that’s not it, is it? Were you drunk?”

I shake my head. “No, I promised myself that I wouldn’t touch alcohol until I was sure I wouldn’t use it as a crutch.”

It hurts him more to know that I was sober. “So, when you...um...when you went into the room with that guy...”

He leaves the question hanging so I can fill in the blanks, and I do. “The terms of engagement were clear on that one. The contract lapses after a cool-off period of two weeks. You were gone for three. I was well within my right to dowhateverI wanted.”

He’s in shock for a few moments, trying to digest my words. Maybe he’s finding it hard to swallow that information because I served him that entrée ice cold. “The terms...the terms of engagement? You’re hitting me with that ten months later?”

I try to remain indifferent when I shrug. “You were the one who clarified that I wasn’t your girlfriend a few weeks ago. Remember when you told me to stop demanding explanations?”

“I told you...” His shoulders sag and his voice becomes incredibly unsteady. Disappointment shrouds his face, and I can’t discern if it’s directed at me or himself. “I told you I didn’t mean that.”

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