Page 98 of My Infatuation with Isabella

“I know. Don’t worry about it.”

“But I want you to know that I’m always just a phone call away if you ever need anything.” She rubs her thumb over my knuckles. “If you want to talk...we can go out for ice cream tomorrow night like old times. That used to be our thing on Friday nights.”

Because our parents are still good friends, I promised my mom that I’d keep the peace after we got divorced. I didn’t want tension at family barbeques and birthday parties, and I wanted us to move past all the ugliness that came with the end of our marriage, so I appreciated the fact that she reached out and started talking to me again. But I know firsthand that leaving the door to the past open can wreak havoc on the present. I’ve already had enough drama this year, so I’m not even going to entertain this. I subtly pull my hand out from under hers.

“Thanks, Fran, but I’ll be alright. As my mom said, I should just push it out of my mind and that’s what I’m going to do.”

She nods. “Well, the offer is open for...whenever you’re ready.”

I don’t respond to that and change the subject instead. “Thanks for all this stuff.”

“Anytime...Well, I’d better get going. I’m meeting Helen in about nine minutes.” She glances at her watch then back at me. “Call me if?”

She stops mid-sentence, shaking her head as she backs away and walks to my mother. She says her goodbyes, then waves to me one more time before leaving. I’m so preoccupied with this asshole’s upcoming parole hearing that it takes me a few minutes to realize I haven’t seen my sister in hours. My mom is still busy with Nina, so I open the door to the back office to ask my dad.

“Hey, where’s Dana?” I ask.

He looks up from his laptop. “Your mother said she went to the shelter with Isabella to drop off the donations we collected and afterward she called to say they were going to the mall.”

I freeze. “Is Peter or Scott with them?”

“No, I don’t think so.”

“You let the two of them go alone?”

“I was worried too, but your mother said that Dana is trying to become more independent, and we need to give her space to do it.”

I heard, understood, and to a certain extent, even agreed with everything he said, yet my mind is still rejecting this thought. My sister can get violent so unexpectedly, and I just don’t want either of them to get hurt.

My dad sits back in his chair. “We haven’t heard from the cops yet, so I’m sure everything is fine.”

This fucking family. “You know that’s not funny, right?”

He chuckles, then stands up, walks to the door, and pats me on the shoulder. “Relax. The same thing happened last week. Isabella took her to the shelter, then they went and got their nails done. They both came back without any incidents. Everything was fine.”

“Yeah, but Tommy was with them. Dana is too scared to even go out alone with mom. And if she’s not feeling safe, anything can trigger her. Why would she agree? Did Isabella put her up to this because?”

He squeezes my shoulder. “No. This was all Dana’s idea.”

“Really?”

“Yeah. Why do you think your mother agreed? Dana wants to start doing more things without us, and we need to let her. The more she does it, the more she’ll overcome her fear and social anxiety.”

“And what if something sets her off, and she ends up hurting Bella? It feels like we’re experimenting with their safety, and I’m not okay with that.”

“Dylan, you know that she doesn’t react to situations like she used to. You need to let go of trying to control the situation and allow the process to happen. Otherwise, she’ll stay in the same place. This is good for her.”

I let that sink in and only nod a few moments later. “Okay...but do you think I should call them just to make sure?”

“No! They’re having some girl time. Let them have their girl time. We don’t? Oh, she’s back.”

I look toward the door to see Dana stroll in carrying a few shopping bags. I almost do a double-take, not recognizing her at first because she’s wearing adress. Nothing over the top or fancy. Not too short or revealing. Just a simple knee-length black polka dot dress.

She walks up to us with an anxious grin. “So?” She slowly turns around. “What do you think?”

“It’s weird,” my dad replies. “I always thought you’d look like Wednesday Adams in a dress, but this looks surprisingly...nice.”

Her grin widens, and she faces me expectantly. “And you, big brother?”

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