Page 68 of My Turn Petal
Her body trembles as she snivels a few more times.
I hold her in my arms and tuck her closer until it slowly stops.
We get inside her apartment, I make her some tea, and she relaxes a bit on her couch.
“Do you want to talk about it,” I take a sit next to her. “Or watch a movie instead.”
“He called me a dysfunctional woman.” A tear slowly skids down her cheek. “That really hurt.” She pauses. “I deal with so much and it’s already hard and hearing this makes me feel like shit.”
I just listen while she unpacks.
“Then he said I have nothing to offer because I’m broken in the head. Go to therapy or something. You need to get help, no man would ever want to be with you like this.” She stops as a sob breaks free.
I hold her hand, drawing soothing circles.
I don’t understand the context of their conversation. But I fucking hate this guy for speaking to her that way. No one has the right to tear down another person because they think they know them. Or what they are going through. Even when you reach a burnout point, an intersection, you need to communicate about it.
If I’d see him, I will gladly punch his face, maybe it will fix a few loose screws in his brain.
She tells me what happened. Most of it. How her ex-boyfriend is a piece of shit and all the words he used to describe her—his verbal communication equals the toilet.
I still feel like there’s something she isn’t saying.
“I broke up with him, it was about time I did it. He never said unspeakable words to me, but the moment he did, he had no place in my life. He accepted nothing about my—“ She stops herself, taking a long inhale.
A few moments of silence pass by.
“Wanna watch Avenging Angelo?” I know it’s one of her favorite movies, and that makes her smile immediately.
She scoots toward me, resting her head on my chest as the movie starts. When her small laughs permeate the living room, I finally relax.
Even though she had seen this movie a thousand times it never gets old. I guess mafia romance with tons of comedy is the cure.
“Your hands are so cold.” My hands cocoon hers and I blow hot air inside.
She chuckles, “My hands and feet are always cold.”
“So you’re one of those girls.”
“The ‘please warm me’ type.” She looks at me, “Guilty.”
I will never forget that night, it was the first night that brought us closer.
Now that I know all the factors—he is still a piece of shit, especially, when she told me the rest of what happened and what he said.“I tried to be patient with you, Frankie, but it’s just too frustrating, I barely touch you and you ask me to pull away. Maybe try to masturbate more before you come to me.”
“Know your boundaries,” I calmly say in my stern tone and my steely expression.
He doesn’t even spare me a glance as he angles his back to me, “No one here asked for your opinion, Mr. Teacher.”
My brows hike up in surprise.
He knows me… so she must have said something about me while they were together.
Take notes, Jake.
“No one here has asked you to come by, Mr. Ex-boyfriend.” I retort with no shred of emotion whatsoever.
I hope she’s in the shower and not listening to this pathetic display.
