Page 57 of Fall Into You
Vinny rolls his eyes and walks out of the kitchen in exasperation. I think he’s trying to convince himself that Matt is a bad guy, but then he sees stuff like this, and it makes him angrier. Who thanks and kisses the hostess after being beaten by her son after dinner?
We hear the engine to a car start up and pull out of the driveway—I guess Vinny needed his space.
Matt walks out the door with his head hanging low, and I watch him leave. My mother and I stand still as we hear his car start and pull out just like we did with my brother.
We don’t say anything as we look at each other, trying to process the events that have happened in the last ten minutes, until I realize, “He left without his stuff.”
IPULLinto the pharmacy parking lot and park right by its front door. I don’t get out of the car yet, though. I can’t move—and it’s not just because my lower back is currently screaming in pain from being repeatedly thrown into the sharp edge of the kitchen counter. I’m just in shock of how absolutely horrible that went and how bad I left things with Liza, her brother, and her mother. This is definitely one of the worst possible ways things could have worked out.
I hit the steering wheel in frustration a couple of times, scaring a mother and her daughter walking in front of me. I press back into my seat and feel the acute pain in my spine. Yeah, there’s no fucking way I’m gonna make it through a minimum two-hour drive like this—especially now that the adrenaline is leaving my body. I check my face in the rearview mirror and see how it’s already starting to swell by my jaw under my beard, the blood on my lip dried in the corner of my mouth. I look like a vampire who just had dinner and missed a spot during clean up. My eyes are still a little wild, wide and alert, like I’m preparing myself for the next hit. I lick the blood clean from my lip, grimacing at the taste, and try to fix myself up a bit before walking out in public. I don’t want to scare anyone else today. I squeeze my eyes shut and take one deep, calming breath.
I can feel my heartbeat in my jaw, the throbbing intensifying.
I struggle a little to get up from my seat, my car too low and unforgiving on my injured spine, and make my way toward the first-aid aisle. I need some painkillers, a bottle of water, a large wrap, and instant icepacks for my back. I should also start icing my face if I want to make it into work on Monday morning with little to no swelling or bruising. Vinnyreallyput his weight into the punch, though. I doubt I’ll come out without a reminder of it for at least a couple of days.
I find what I’m looking for and decide to buy some arnica cream to help with the bruising on my back as well. I walk over to self-checkout (I don’t want to talk to anyone now; I have a feeling it will hurt too much), pay quickly, and make my way back to my car to wrap myself up.
I must look like a nutcase, removing my coat and sweater in the middle of the parking lot, but whatever. I raise my shirt up on my chest, holding it between my teeth as I activate two separate instant icepacks. I plan to secure them around my lower back with the wrap, hoping it will help alleviate the pain by numbing my back until the pain killers kick in. Once they’re secured, I pull my shirt back down and get in the car. I turn the engine on but make no move to back up and get on the Long Island Expressway back to Manhattan. I press my forehead to the steering wheel and take another deep breath. And then another. And then another.
The feeling that I’ve fucked everything up doesn’t seem to fade, only increasing with each passing second. Would things have turned out better if I hadn’t listened to Liza’s wishes and just sat down with Vinny myself? If we had had a conversation man to man? Or would he have reacted as poorly as he did? Surely not. I’m almost positive his violent reaction was a result of seeing his sister crying and the suspicions he must have already had that something was going on.
I was so happy when Liza decided we should announce at dinner that we were in a relationship together, so happy to end the lies and the sneaking around. I thought it would be a great moment. We would have all been in a food coma after having spent a great day together. It would’ve happened in front of Danielle and Catterina, both supporters of this relationship, and I think they would have helped as buffers. I’m sure Vinny might have felt like he was betrayed a little, regardless of the scenario, but it would have been better than this. Anything would have been better than this.
I think about what he said, and he might be right. I might not be as good a guy as I think I am. I was really selfish by pursuing this with Liza. I ignored my friend’s request and, in doing so, created a break in the relationship between him and his sister—all because I wanted her.
But I see now that there was no way I could’ve resisted falling for her—even from the first second I saw her, that split second before she was covered in Clara’s vomit. This was always going to be a lose-lose situation: Vinny’s friendship or a relationship with Liza.
I pop two painkillers into my mouth and wash it down with water, my jaw hurting with every facial movement. I pull out another instant icepack, rub it fiercely until it activates and cools, and press it to my jaw, wincing, head resting against the seat.
Fuck!
In my haste, I completely forgot to take my stuff with me, leaving my weekend bag full of clothes on top of the pull-out in the basement. I want to call Liza and let her know, but I know she’s probably dealing with much more important things right now than my fucking clothes.
I didn’t want to leave without her, but it’s for the best. They need space to settle this as a family, and having me there would have made things infinitely worse. I don’t blame Catterina for agreeing with Vinny that maybe it was best if I left.
I don’t know what’s going to happen now, but I know it can’t be good. Like I said, it was always going to be a lose-lose situation—I just picked the one I couldn’t live without.
“OW, OW, OW, OW!”I scream. “Mom, you’re being too rough! Gentle pats,gentle!” I beg as she presses more hydrogen peroxide onto the gash on my palm.
“Are you sure this doesn’t need stitches?” she asks, concerned. She loosens her grip on my hand, and her pats grow gentler.
I shrug. “I think it’s fine. Matt said it was fine.” I sigh sadly.
“Matt was a little fucked up at that point,” Danielle says beside me, cursing for possibly the first time ever in front of my mom. My mother and I give her a look like she’s lost her mind, but she doesn’t see us. Danielle is too busy staring out the window, back ramrod straight, waiting for her husband to come back.
“Fucked!” Leo yells from the floor where he and Clara have been playing with their toys. Danielle is so far gone she doesn’t reprimand her son or curse herself for breaking her own rules.
My mom and I both look at each other and shrug, deciding not to say anything about it.
“Still,” I say, “I really don’t want to go to the ER or Urgent Care on Thanksgiving. I’ll be there for eight hours, and I have to get back to the city.”
“What?” my mother asks. “You’re leaving?” She stops patting the cotton ball on my hand, tossing it into a plastic grocery bag she’s been using as garbage.
“Mom, Ihaveto. He’s not answering my calls, and he was really beat up. I’m concerned about his back. I think Vinny really did some damage.” I pick up my phone and check it, but still no missed calls or texts. Is he mad at me? He has every right to be. This is my fault, too—much more than it is his. “Plus, I don’t think it would be such a good idea if I stay here. Vinny’s going to want to go back to New York if I do, and you don’t get to see him this Christmas, so I should go.”
As if we’ve summoned him, we hear his car come up the driveway and freeze, waiting for him to come in. He walks through the front door and makes eye contact with me first then with my hand. He sighs and walks over to us. Vinny takes a seat on the coffee table, pulling my hand from my mother’s.
“Let me see,” he says quietly, not unkind but definitely not my brother’s normal fun tone of voice.
