Page 6 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“It’s not you. It’s just...” Reflex. “...she was in an all-girl boarding school, so she’s weird around guys.”

He sort of believes that. “I guess that makes sense. You should see how awkward she is with choir-boy. And it’s even more awkward because I’m sitting there watching them like a chaperone. Is there a particular reason why I can’t leave her alone?”

“Just don’t, Pete.”

“Okay, but shouldn’t I give them some privacy?”

“If she wants privacy, she’ll let you know.”

I have a feeling he suspects there’s more to it than that, but he doesn’t ask any more questions. Once outside, I open the back door of his SUV. Pete has about six cars, I think, and this one is the least ostentatious. I wait for Dana to climb in, then close the door and hop into the front seat.

Dana talks about the new puppies she’s going to get as we drive to my therapy session. Pete glances at her in the review mirror now and then, almost as if he’s double-checking to make sure there’s an adult in the back seat because she sounds like a seventeen-year-old high-schooler.

“What are you going to name them?” Peter asks. “Please say something more creative than Fluffy.”

“I’m glad you asked, Peter. The names I’ve selected are much more original. I’m going to name the boy Scruffy and the girl Puffy.”

He groans. “If you’re anything like your brother, you’ll go through with that just to prove a point.”

“Peter, I hate to be the one to remind you of this, but you went on three dates with a woman who refused to change out of her clown costume because you wanted to prove to me that looks don’t matter to you.”

Surprised, I shift in my seat to look at him. “You did that?”

“It was two dates,” he corrects.

“You brought her to choir practice last week,” Dana counters. “That counts as three.”

Pete glances at her in the rearview mirror again. “That was just to get you to shut up because you refused to believe me.”

“Well, the balloon animals sure convinced me, Peter.”

She lets out a loud laugh, and I smile to myself. I love seeing her happy like this. I listen to their playful bickering until he pulls up in front of the tall building.

“I’ll pick you up in an hour and a half,” he says as I hop out.

“Yeah, thanks again. I’ll see you guys later. And keep an eye on her. No clowning around, alright?”

Dana giggles, but he narrows his eyes with vexation. “Why am I friends with you, Dyl?”

“We’ll figure it out one day, Pete.”

I shut the door and walk into the building. Taking the elevator up to the eighth floor, I make my way down the long corridor to Dr. Burkman’s office. Bella is already there, talking to someone on her cell. Our session is only due to start in five minutes, so I stuff my hands in my pockets and stand by the door as I watch her. I saw her just last week, but she looks completely different.

She must’ve gotten her hair done over the weekend because her long, dark brown curls have been highlighted with bright pink streaks. She’s always changing her hair, and I’ve seen her with a few different styles over the years. Though I must admit, this just became my favorite. Couple the radiant hair with a sheer pink blouse, a denim skirt, and white sneakers and I’m finding it a little hard to take my eyes off her.

My mother was right. I’ve been fluctuating between happy and depressed these last few weeks, and I find that I’m most torn on Wednesdays and Fridays when I see her.

“Let’s call him in for an interview, Tom,” Bella says, pacing slowly from one wall to the other as she speaks. “Yeah...we can do it at 7:40...No...Let’s rather move that to 8:10. We’ve got a few minutes to play with there.”

Listening to her makes me realize how serious she is about her job. She finally found something she loves doing. And shelovesher job. She committed to this therapy and is willing todealwith me twice a week to make sure she keeps her job. I don’t think she would’ve done it for any other reason. I’m happy for her, but the irony still gets to me. The moment that led to her getting this job is the same moment that led to my life falling apart. It was foretold that the Queen of Spades would do me harm, disguise it well with wit and charm.

I would love to see that fortune-teller again and ask her how she got itsoright. I’d like to ask her if it is a prophecy or a curse because I still can’t seem to break free of it. This chick has ripped me open and laid me bare, yet I can’t get enough of her. She hurt me, put me through gut-wrenching pain that I still feel today. She betrayed me in the worst way, yet I would do it all over again. Even if it brought me right back to this point where everything is broken and crumbling around me, I wouldn’t sacrifice a single second I spent with her.

She casts a look in my direction and lowers her voice, so I know they’re talking about me. “Don’t worry about that...No...I’ve made that very clear to him, Tom.” She risks another glance in my direction. “Okay...I’ll see you tomorrow.”

She hangs up and avoids looking at me. She’s awkward around me after my confession last week because she still can’t decide if she’s angry or empathetic, so I decide to break the ice.

“Hi,” I greet, sounding as anxious as I feel.

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