Page 41 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“So, what’re your plans for after school?” she asks between slurps of her milkshake.

“Still deciding. College seems pointless if I’m just going to run the restaurant chain with my parents. What about you?”

“I have no idea what I want to do in life. I have no desire to go to college and a desk job isnotfor me. I want a job where every day is different, somethingfun, but I don’t even know what kind of job that would even be, so I feel like I’m floating around with no direction.”

“Maybe you should become a hairstylist.”

“You think?” She grabs the back of her ponytail and twists a lock around her finger, her bangles clinking lightly. “I think I’d be bored in a year. Besides, I enjoy stylingmyhair. Imagine I get a customer that comes in and she hasn’t washed her hair in like...a month. Gross! No, thanks. I’m not about that life.”

She shifts her chair then leans back and lifts her feet onto my lap, blue skinny jeans and white sneakers extending over my thighs like they belong there. I give her a questioning look and she simply shrugs to let me know that she’s taking this liberty, her eyes daring me to object. I don’t. A silver ankle chain catches my attention and I absentmindedly toy with it as I scan the tiny charms attached to it.

“Why are your knuckles always bruised?” she asks, placing her elbow on the table to rest her head on her hand.

My focus shifts to my knuckles because it’s not something I notice anymore. “I have some me-time with the bag every morning. It’s the best way to blow off steam.”

“Oh, so that’s how you were able to knock Steven out without even flinching. You have some major anger issues, De Lorenzo.”

My fingers move from the charms onto her ankle, my thumb moving in circles over the bone. “I don’t have anger issues.”

“Yeah, you do. You went from Bruce Banner to Hulk in three seconds flat with barely a warning in between.”

“A warning was too much. He shouldn’t have put his fucking hands on you.” I inhale a deep breath, trying to calm down because just thinking about it makes me want to punch him again.

“Ah!” She smiles like she’s discovered something interesting. “The monotone disappears when you’re angry. Your anger is something you can’t hide.”

I smirk because she doesn’t realize that hiding my anger is the thing I do best. “Oh, you think so, huh?”

“Yep.” She slurps her milkshake again. “But back to Steven—don’t do that again. You don’t have to defend me. I’m the whore, the slut, the floozy...people are always going to talk shit about me. I enjoy sex and that’s a bad thing that makes them clutch their pearls in horror. I don’t know why it’s anybody’s business, but I’m apparently not supposed to enjoy it as much as I do, so they feel the need to shame the abhorrent sluttiness out of me. Whatever. It doesn’t affect me, so it shouldn’t affect you.”

I lean forward, sandwiching one ankle between my palms. “Sometimes I think you’re sociopathic and other times...I think you’re dead inside. Some of the things people say...I don’t know how it doesn’t affect you, Bella.”

“Because I genuinely don’t care. You know, at my dad’s funeral, my mom was inconsolable, so people came to Cat and I instead. They held us and cried, telling us that he was in a better place. And each time it would end with a nice:Give your mom my regards.” She laughs humorlessly. “And all I wanted to say was:Thanks a lot for that, Aunt Camilla, but what exactly is she going to do with your regards?All of them were just handing out theircondolenceslike it has some magic power, but it doesn’t. It’s just a word, an empty word. It won’t bring my dad back. It won’t piece my heart back together. And then this epiphany hit. Words are just words, De Lorenzo. They have no power on their own. And if words can’t heal, then they can’t hurt. The only way they can be elevated is ifIgive them power, and why would I give people like Audrey or Josh or that asshole Steven that kind of control over me? I’m a fucking queen...the Queen of Spades, in fact.” She winks at me. “And they’re gonna have to come at me with more than words to bring me down.”

My feelings for her have been floating around aimlessly for a while now because I’ve been resisting, pushing them aside, refusing to let them settle. But then she goes and says something like that, something that shows me the type of person she is, and those floating feelings somehow solidify, taking root inside me. And if they have roots now, they’re bound to grow. I say nothing and just watch her, listening intently to her whiskey voice.

“Besides, I prefer to read actions,” she continues. “They say a lot more. Audrey calls me fat but then throws a hissy fit if I’m within two feet of her boyfriend. Why should I care about what she calls me if her actions show that thisfat assmakes her feel so insecure?” She slaps the side of her ass to drive the point home, and I chuckle. “So, if a person’s words contradict their actions, I believe the actions instead...which is why I’m somessed up in the head...as you so eloquently put it.”

“What do you mean?”

She shakes her head. “I’d rather not talk about it.”

“You know, sometimes it’s nice to talk to just get a load off.” My hand slides up her calf and back down again. I have no idea why I keep touching her, but I’m enjoying it too much to stop. “I can’t take your problems away, but maybe getting it off your chest will make you feel lighter.”

She still looks reluctant, and I get the feeling that she doesn’t like opening up about personal issues. I can one hundred percent relate to that, so I say nothing and leave that choice up to her. After a drawn-out silence, she finally continues.

“My dad taught me that—to look at actions instead of words.” Her eyes shift down and she flicks at her nails instead of looking at me. “He used to tell me he loved me all the time, but his actions say he didn’t give a damn. He’s the reason all our lives went to shit. He woke up one morning and decided to off himself.” Her voice trails off, sounding displaced as she stares off into the distance like she’s reliving the day in her mind. “He just went up to the roof of a thirteen-story building and said fuck it...and threw himself off. He was supposed to pick me up from school that day...but he didn’t. I sat there on the front steps for over four hours, worried and panicked because I didn’t know where he was, or how I was going to get home. I kept calling him, but his phone was off. He just left me waiting...and waiting. I don’t have kids, but I know I wouldneverdo that to my child. To just abandon me like that, not even tell anyone to come get me—how could he do that? Does that sound like love to you?” She looks at me, but she’s not expecting an answer. Tears well up in her eyes, and she blinks them back. “And now every day when I walk up those stairs, that’s the only thing I can think about and?”

“And that’s how you end up in the bathroom?” I fill in. “It must be an instant trigger for you.”

“Yep. And he’s the main reason I refuse to let anyone have any power over me. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I won’t put myself in a situation like that again. Not with anyone.”

“Are you saying you’ve closed yourself off to potentially falling in love so you don’t get hurt again?”

She shakes her head. “No, because that would give my dad control over me. I’m just not going to waste my time on guys who tell me they care about me with words but show me they don’t give a shit with their actions. And that’s pretty much every guy I’ve been with so far, which is why I plow through them at lightning speed. My dad has taken me through the wringer, and I refuse to go through this again. Crying, being depressed—it’s exhausting.”

I can sense her despondence and offer a small smile. “Do you want a hug?”

“No.” She looks at me like I’m deranged. “What’s up with you and hugging?”

---