Page 14 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“You have a crush on him,” he reiterates firmly, fixing his sea-green eyes on me. “Just accept it. Denying the fact doesn’t change the fact. And maybe you should spend more time with him instead of wasting your energy on these stupid assholes who just want to hit it and quit it.” He stops at a red light. “I take it Steven is number sixteen?”

For reasons unbeknown to me, Tommy has taken it upon himself to keep track of my sexual partners. Maybe it’s because he was my first, so he feels like it’s his duty to monitor my progress as I devolve into the world’s biggest slut.

“Sixteen in reality. Probably about eighty-nine according to the rumor mill.”

“When did it get so high?”

“Apparently, I ran a train at Rebecca’s party. I just laid there and let each guy come in and screw me one after the other.”

“You were at that party fortwenty minutesbefore you called me to pick you up because it was so boring.”

I giggle. “It was the busiest twenty minutes of my life. If I even say hello to a guy, rumors start flying that I slept with him. I’m so used to it now.”

He shakes his head. “Well, is Steven at least better than number one?”

“Everyoneis better than number one.”

This is not a lie. The first and only time Tommy and I had sex was the most incredibly awful experience of my young life. I had only been working at the hardware store for three or four weeks and I guess being there reminded me that I actually had a job and the reason I had to work in the first place. Tommy found me crying in the storeroom. One awkward moment led to another until we were...doing it. But I started crying halfway through, so he stopped and held me instead. It was then that I started noticing his best friend potential. That one-time encounter has now become a benchmark for both of us to compare, because it’s still the worst sexual experience either of us has had.

I cover my aching eyes from the glaring afternoon sun. “Steven is very...eager, so he gets a ten for enthusiasm, but a two for execution. He just flails around with no rhythm like a fish out of water. I haven’t had an orgasm since number nine, Tommy. It’s bad. Twelve was good and Josh was alsosoclose to being amazing...but then it just fizzled. I would understand being this frustrated during a dry spell but?”

“My honest opinion. One. Stop having sex while you’re drunk. You might feel something if you’re not numbed out all the time. And two. Try having an emotional connection with someone first. It’s always better if you actually like the person.”

Something between a scoff and laugh leaves my mouth. “Tommy, I’m damaged goods. Guys don’t want a girl like me. They want respectable girls, girls who they’re proud to show off in public, not screw in a darkened corner, then hide like some dirty little secret. I’m the latter girl. I’m the girl they use for a good time in the backseats of minivans. I’m nothing more than a warm hole. Sex is the only thing they want from me. I have nothing else to offer. Please tell me which guy in his right mind would develop an emotional connection with a girl who’s been with half the football team.”

We arrive at the mall and walk to the store, which is basically right at the entrance that leads to the food court. I wait for him to unlock the door, then head to the storeroom at the back to change into a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt with the red logo on the breast pocket. Al doesn’t think the way I dress is appropriate for customers, so a condition of my employment is that I’m not allowed to wear skirts or makeup at the store. He wants me to look like the girl he originally hired. I gave myself a makeover about a month after my dad died, and Al wasn’t very impressed.

“Don’t be so hard on yourself, IzzyB,” Tommy says when I make my way back to the front. “Of course, you have more to offer than sex.” He snaps his fingers a few times, as if that will help him recall a distant memory. “Oh, oh...remember that one time you saved that baby bird that fell out of its nest?”

“That wasn’t me. That was your cousin Juniper.”

“What about that time when you ran that drive to feed the homeless?”

“Yeah, that’s still Juniper.”

“Shit, you’re right. There is nothing more to you. Your personality is eighty percent pre-famous porn star and twenty percent sarcasm.”

I know he’s just kidding, but that’s how I feel. There isn’t much else to me besides sex and sarcasm. I’ve been hollowed out like a pumpkin on Halloween. All the things that used to make memejust fell out of the gaping hole I have inside me. I used to be really fun. Quiet at first, but once I got to know someone, my shyness would disappear, and the more boisterous side of my personality would show. I was happy. I had a lust for life and my dad deserves credit for that, too. He was a very involved father. He didn’t just take an interest in our hobbies; he was an active participant in almost every aspect of our lives.

When the other students at school used to pick on my weight, he’d always tell me that I should never let other people’s opinions change how I view myself, but ifIwanted to change, he would be in it with me. I told him I wanted to get healthy, and we started hiking together. I don’t know how, but that eventually evolved into geocaching. We were going on little adventures almost every weekend, looking for hidden treasures all over the place. We went wherever the app led us, sometimes only getting home after dark and my mom would be so pissed. It didn’t really help much with my weight because I’m one of those girls who gains five pounds by just looking at a chocolate shake. Okay, fine. I’m the type of girl who can’t justlookat a chocolate shake, which is the real reason I can’t lose the weight. The point is, these outings with my dad put me in a better mental space and the teasing didn’t affect me so much anymore.

He got me addicted to exploring, got me hooked on little adventures, and then he just left me. Now I don’t have the slightest inclination to do anything. Like a hollowed-out pumpkin, I have nothing inside me anymore. I’m suffering from a severe case of anhedonia because I’ve lost all my gumption for life. The vibrance of the person I once was has tapered down to sex and sarcasm. But the upside is that he did end up helping me with my weight loss journey. Week by week, I shave off the pounds. Who knew the hidden benefits of involuntarily going on a diet of crackers and vodka?

Tommy throws his arm around me and kisses my cheek. I know he can sense the dip in my mood, but he also knows that I don’t like to get emotional in public. I prefer to just bury my feelings and pretend they don’t exist in front of people. I save my tears for when I’m alone.

“At least you have great boobs.” He sighs and slides his hand lower to adjust my breast because he feels it’s his job to make sure my cleavage is always perfect. It lacks any kind of lust or sexual desire, so I barely notice when he does it anymore. “The right one is a little off,” he explains, shifting it more to the middle.

“Yep. At least I have that going for me.”

And now that we’ve reached the end of our discussion of my good qualities, he changes the topic. “Hey, who’s on this weekend? Me or you?”

“Me. And I have so much of schoolwork to catch up on.”

“It’s quiet on Sundays. Just bring your books and you can catch up on homework here.”

We try to alternate weekends as much as possible so that we both get a break. Most of the time, Al will take a Saturday with whoever is on duty because that’s our busiest day, but if he’s got family commitments, Tom and I are both forced to come in. Sundays we do alone, and I use that as a catch-up day. I’m not a diligent student. My priorities are very askew, but Loughlin costs a fortune, and Cat and I were lucky enough to have my dad’s old company pay for our tuition this year, so I can’t fail. The last thing we need is the additional financial burden of me repeating a year.

My plan is to just do enough to scrape by. I’m going nowhere in life. My mom can’t afford to send Cat or I to college, so what’s the point in killing myself to get good grades? I know I should be grateful to my parents for trying to give me the best education at a prestigious private school, and I should show my gratitude by working hard and making them proud, but I don’t have the energy or the drive. I have nothing inside.

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