Bellissimo Rilascio (Beautiful Release): The Family Series #3 (21 page)

Fuck me. I want her to do all those things, but not for me, for herself. I want her to crave them like I do. I don’t want her submission. I just want her.

I step towards her, and she moves to stand in front of me. “You’re killing me here. I don’t want to leave, but I can’t stay. I want promises, vows, a future with you, but I want to know it’s right. I need to know I’m not a consolation prize.”

“You’ll never be second place to me. You are my only prize. My heart. My life. It hurts to breathe because I know when you leave you’ll take a part of me.”

“I love you.”

“Then stay.”

“I’ll be back,” and before she can argue I lean down and kiss her. Gentle. Longing. And for the first time since my lips met hers, this kiss isn’t filled with a promise because I don’t have one to give her.

Her cries break the kiss.

I walk out the door.

Chapter Twenty
-
Eight

Bianca

My knees hit the floor as the door shuts. A piece of wood symbolizes so much at this time. It serves as a wall, even though the true barrier is his doubts.

It closes me in.

It shuts him out.

It divides us.

Tears don’t come. They don’t cleanse me. My body shaking, I squeeze my eyes tightly, daring the sobs to come. My chest heaves as my labored breathing escapes, and I still can’t will myself to cry. It isn’t the release I’m craving.

Just one cut.

Just one drop of blood.

Just one.

I place my hands under my knees, trapping them so I don’t tear my skin. I open my eyes because it’s easier to imagine the sharp edge of a knife slicing my arm when my eyes are closed. Dreaming while awake. My mouth salivates, and the need is too much.

I’m choking on pain.

On fear.

On fucking goodbyes.

I stand, walking towards the kitchen. Grabbing the smallest paring knife I have, I examine my body. Searching for the easiest place to access, but one that I could hide from everyone. I reason with myself. I’ll do it just this once, get over the initial shock and pain of him leaving. Tomorrow I’ll go back to therapy and never do it again.

I’ll do it underneath my upper arm, there isn’t a lot of meat, and the pain will be stark. Blinding me from my heart being in shreds. One nick, a stream of blood, and it will be over with. I can do this. I slip my arm through the sleeve of my shirt, grip the knife loosely, and raise it.

“Damn it!” I toss the knife down and stare at it. The piece of metal taunts me. Reminds me I’m not strong, I’m not worthy. I hurry to the living room, I need to separate myself from the object threatening each hurdle I’ve jumped, each hole I’ve crawled out from, each void I escaped. I won’t allow it to suck me back in.

I’m stronger than that. I’m my own piece of steel. No matter how many times I’ve been twisted, no matter how many times I’ve been forced to bend I’m still standing erect. You can twist me up, bend me, but I refuse to be broken. Instead I’ll fight. I’ll give him the part of me I’ve never given anyone . . . my entirety.

“When you spoke with Dakota, how did that make you feel?”

I roll my eyes. “Relief. Non-climactic. I expected this big epiphany, and there wasn’t one because it had been in here all along.” I tap my forehead. “I guess saying the words made my heart realize it.”

“Sounds like you figured it out.”

“Actually, now that you mention it, I’d like a refund. I’ve been coming here for almost two years, and a year of it I’ve been duped.”

“How do you figure?”

“In ten minutes my best friend told me everything you didn’t. It was so simple, and instead you’ve made it difficult.”

“No, Bianca, you’ve made it difficult. I’m not sure you qualify for a refund.”

“Qualify? Don’t you realize instead of making me sweat like Mike Tyson at a spelling bee for a year you could have just said the words she did? I can paraphrase for you, it went something like this ‘Bianca remove your head from your ass. You know you love Heath, and Dakota is your past. Let go.’ See how simple that was.”

His lips curl up. “You are certainly my most colorful patient.”

“Ah, see you find all these ways to tell me I’m your favorite without actually saying the words. You like to play darts with spaghetti don’t you?”

“I don’t play darts.”

“Difficult. That’s what you are. So back to the refund request. Where do I need to submit that?”

“We’ll get back to that. So you had your closure with Dakota and survived. No emotional upheaval. Why’d you want to cut?”

“Because Heath left. He misinterpreted things, and when I explained things, he still couldn’t believe me.”

“How did . . .”

“Holy fuck, come up with something more original or you’re going to bore you patients with the same ole’ ‘How did that make you feel?’ Obviously it makes me feel like shit, or I wouldn’t have picked up a knife, and I sure as hell wouldn’t be sitting here getting robbed blind.”

“Then can you answer the question?” I wish one time he’d crack.

“I had the knife in my hand. I could see the cut, smell the blood . . . feel the release begging me. I didn’t do it in the end. I wanted to be stronger for him. For us.”

“Have you told him this?”

“He isn’t exactly Chatty Cathy with me.” He raises his eyebrows in confusion. “I call, he declines, which is rude by the way. I text, and he answers with one word.”

“Does that bother you?”

“Not really, I know he’s being difficult. Making me sweat like a cat in a Korean neighborhood. He loves me, I love him, and I’m sure of us. If I wasn’t, I wouldn’t be here. I’d be in the bottom of a bottle with country music playing in the background, and instead of a paring knife I think my weapon of choice would be a machete.”

“I’m not sure I’m comfortable with that analogy.”

“Well, I wasn’t done. Stop interrupting. I’d also have five different kinds of ice cream, chocolate chip cookies, definitely Airheads, and Callie. Maybe Lynsey but she isn’t too much into girly shit so she’d stop by, break out in hives, and leave skid marks from her escape. She’d call and check in because she’s not a total asshole. But Callie would be there, so I wouldn’t cut myself with the machete, so I’d be safe. Comfortable now?”

“You know what, Bianca Agosto? I think you’re ready. You’ve got this figured out. You have a support system, and I can officially release you from therapy today.”

“Won’t you miss me?”

“I think I’ll remember you all the time because I need my own therapy sessions after this. You’ll be my main topic.”

“Again with the compliments. So do I get a plaque or letter of completion?”

“That’s not how this works.”

“What about one of your diplomas? I really think seven is pompous. Over kill. It screams ‘look at me.’ And that isn’t a good look on anyone.”

“You can’t have one of my diplomas.”

“Come on. It’s not like you use all of them. I mean look at half the shit you didn’t do for me. Callie needs one in her room because she got me to admit what I was afraid of. She needs a consolation prize because you know when I write a book I’ll have to thank you, my therapist, Dr. Adams for getting me to the other side. Think of all the referrals you’ll get, so is one little diploma worth losing all that business?”

He rests his elbows on the armrests and drops his head into his hands. I’ll wait. Patience is the only virtue I have. “I won’t even ask for the biggest one.”

“No. I won’t debate this with you. You can’t have a diploma, and you can’t have a refund.”

“Can I at least invite you to my wedding?”

“Please do.”

“I’ll expect a gift. A nice one, you can afford it.”

“Noted.”

I stand. “Bye, Doc.”

“Goodbye, Bianca.”

“Wanna hug? I feel like you’re angry with me.”

He points to the door, and I barely escape through it before laughing. I’ll miss our sessions, but he’s right. I have this shit. Life is full of ups and downs and I figured the key to it is to ride them out. Hold on tight to what you cherish and let go of what you no longer need. I no longer need my scars like a shield. I have the one man who I never have to protect myself with. Now if he’d only get his ass back here.

I spent the last couple months trying to prove my worth to Heath, and that’s not what it’s about.

I am worthy of him.

I am worthy of love.

We are worthy of a future.

When he ran from his insecurities, I realized in all the reassurances I was giving him, he doubted me more.
The lady doth protest too much
has some merit.
Words can be empty. Action is what he needed. I was riding the calm, enjoying the relationship, and I needed to rock the boat, show him what I wanted. I could have dragged his ass to pick china patterns, flooring samples, wedding colors . . . he would have gotten the message. So now I wait . . . and wait . . . and wait some more. I bombard him with daily texts, nothing serious just my day-to-day activity. I’m sure if he gets another photo of my Starbucks cup he’s liable to call me back…or poke his eyes out.

ME: I’m bored. What are you doing?

Callie: Cleaning.

ME: Entertain me.

Callie: Come clean my house for me.

ME: I’m being serious.

Callie: So am I.

ME: Let’s go out tonight.

Callie: Bronson’s on a case let me see if your mom can watch Angelo.

Callie: She can watch him . . . we driving or taking a cab?

Me: Cab.

Callie: Oh God.

Me: Nope, just Bianca. See you at seven.

Callie: You coming here?

Me: No, you’re coming here so I can dress you.

Callie: . . .

ME: I get you’re a mom and all but we’re twenty five- NO mom jeans tonight, no loose shirts, no granny panties, and NO sneakers.

Callie: I wish I could swear in Italian because saying fuck off in English isn’t the same.

Me: Dictionary . . . it’s this thing with words, and it even has different versions with foreign languages.

Callie: Fuck. Off.

ME: Love you!

I dress her in capri pants and a tank top, nothing too risqué, but you’d think she was wearing garters and a thong with the way she’s pulling the shirt down and messing with her hair.

“Listen, you could wear this outfit at church. Stop worrying.”

“What kind of church do you think I go to?”

“Shut up, and let’s go.”

“Is Lynsey singing tonight?”

“Yeah, but she’s managing now that Heath is MIA.”

“You still doing okay with that?”

“What else can I be? He’ll come back.”

“He better.”

“He will.”

The club isn’t packed when we get there, and I’m grateful. I just want a chill night.

Lynsey has a few shots with us before singing. I look around and admire all the hard work he put into this. I know he’ll miss the day-to-day activities soon.