Page 62 of My Debacle with De Lorenzo

“Sure.”

With a slight nudge, I urge her toward the stairs and only get a minor amount of resistance. I assist her as she hobbles with me to the second bedroom on the right and she drops onto the bed the second I close the door.

“You don’t have to wait with me. I’ll be fine up here.”

I sit down on the edge of the mattress beside her. “I’m not leaving you drunk and alone up here while there’s a guy who has trouble understanding the word stop down there, so?”

“Well, that’s not really your problem, is it?”

“Shit.” I lean forward and drop my head into my hands, raking my fingers through my hair. “Here we go again. I don’t know how many times I have to apologize, but here it is for themillionthtime.” I shift on the bed to face her. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”

She gives a tired laugh, barely able to keep her eyes open. “And that’s the only thing you didn’t mean. You meant every word you said to me, and what hurts is that you said it right after you kissed me.” She toys with the bangles on her wrist instead of looking at me. “And no one kisses like you, De Lorenzo. Other guys...they kiss me like they want sex, but you...you kiss me like you wantme.”

“I do,” I admit softly.

She throws herself back onto the bed, spreading her arms wide. “Then take me, you bad boy. Have your wicked way with me, fulfill all your dirty fantasies. I offer myself wholeheartedly to you.”

I honestly wish she was drunk enough to pass out because that would at least keep her quiet. “You’re really starting to frustrate the hell out of me.”

“Le sigh.” She lets out a dramatic breath. “I’ll take that as a rejection of my offer. I guess that means you don’t want me. See how easy it is to prove you’re lying? You see me as a burden, something so worthless you can just pass off to ssssome other guy.”

I twist around and lie on my stomach beside her. “You want the truth? Here are some hard facts for you to digest. I care about you. I like you. And, fuck, do I want you. I want you so bad there’s this burn searing beneath my palms because I want to touch you all the time and I mean,allthe fucking time.” I’m feeling it right now and settle for tucking her hair behind her ear. “But I have to consciously stop myself because...you’re a mess, Bella. And this might come as a shock, but substance abuse isn’t a turn-on for me. It’s hard...it’ssohard for me to see you like this.”

“I just...I just don’t want to feel the pain anymore,” she says in a shaky voice.

“I get that...but knowing that doesn’t make it easier. None of it is easy. None of it is okay. I’m not okay with you hooking up with other guys. And I’m not okay with you purposely putting yourself in these dangerous situations where you could get hurt. How do you allow yourself to get this drunk with someone you don’t trust? Like, I don’t know what I would’ve done if David?” I leave the sentence hanging, pressing my forehead against my palm. “And he’s the asshole in this equation, but you’re an asshole, too. The only reason you’re here with him in the first place is because you wanted to spite me, hurt me. If you want the satisfaction, it worked. What you did hurt me. Seeing you with himhurtme, and I deserved that because I told you to be with some other guy. But you gotta understand that even without me saying that, this is the type of shit you just dive straight into. Josh. Steven. David. You make these rash decisions, and you don’t care about the consequences. Even if David is a decent guy who would respect your choices, how were you planning on getting home? He isplasteredand you would get into a car with him and let him drive you home in that state. I’m not okay with that.”

“What do you care, anyway? It all falls out...outside your ten minutes. Ish my life. I can do...whathever I want.”

“Yeah, you can,” I agree with a nod. “I don’t have the right to tell you how to live your life. I can’t tell you what you can and can’t do. You can make your own choices. But I’m entitled to make my own choices too, and I’m not here to be your hero, and I’m sure as fuck not here to be your babysitter. I’m not Tommy. I refuse to enable this behavior because I don’t want this kind of drama in my life. I have plenty of bad Friday nights.Thisis not how I want to spend the good ones.”

“You’re speaking in thircles again.” Her expression glazes over. “So, you told meallthat...jussst...just to come back to the exact point you made...in the bafroom. You would rather I be...ssssomeone else’s problem.” Maybe lying down has made her more lethargic because her words come out slow and slurred, dragging and melding into each other. “But I can’t be someone else’s problem...because nobody wants me. They all end up leaving me...No one is ever going to love me enough to stay.”

“Oh,” I say with an audible breath of relief when the realization finally dawns on me.

That’s what this is. A trauma tantrum. That I can handle. All this time I couldn’t understand why she was being so irrational, but now the root of the problem is so clear. I don’t know why I didn’t figure it out sooner. This erratic behavior all stems from unresolved trauma caused by her father’s death. She’s got some deep-rooted abandonment issues, and I’m a dick for saying what I said so thoughtlessly because it triggered her so bad. I mean, shit, she went level eight crazy on me. Actually, that glaring red flag should’ve been the first clue, but I was too angry to see it.

But now that I know what it is, I can handle it differently. I always approach a trauma tantrum by sticking to the rules I’ve set for myself. The first rule is to remain calm, no matter what. The second rule is to not engage until the other person is calm and ready to talk. I broke both those rules with Bella. I got jealous and hot-headed, and she sucked me into an argument so easily. It never should’ve escalated to this point, but now we’re here, and I have to find a better way of dealing with this.

“Let’s talk about this when you’re sober.” I sit up and gently tug her arm until she sits up, too.

She groans, mumbling incoherently. She tells me I don’t care about her. She tells me to leave her the hell alone. She goads and taunts me, offering me sex again because that’s the only thing she’s good for, and I obviously don’t see any worth in her either because I can just toss her away to another guy. When I reject the offer for the second time, she tells me that she should’ve just come up here with David and let him screw her brains out because at least he wants her. Unlike me. I’m just a little boy who can’t make up his mind.

And all I can do is listen as she rambles. I let her vent and take out all her frustration on me. I don’t say anything. I don’t engage because all of it is said to get a rise out of me, but my retaliation will only fuel this raging inferno and I need it to burn itself out. Eventually, I move over to an armchair in the corner of the room to give her some space and I just sit there and listen.

She’s emotionally spent by the time she stops talking. Her eyes are drifting closed and she’s swaying slightly, clinging onto the edge of the mattress to keep herself up.

“Do you want some water?” I ask.

“No.”

“Okay.”

We sit in silence, and she falls asleep in that position. The door squeaks open a while later, and Catalina walks in. I didn’t think she’d be able to get here, but now that she is, I’m hoping she can talk some sense into her sister, so I can take them both home.

“I offered to take her home,” I say as she closes the door. “But she only wanted you.”

We’ve only spoken to each otheronce, so it’s a little awkward at first. She bites her lip, looking at me apprehensively. “Did...did David do anything to hurt her?”

---