The fallout begins

"I just got blown by someone else," I think, driving home after midnight.

It's shock, really, more than anything else. My lack of guilt is both liberating and terrifying.

4:46am. DING-dong, DING dong, ding-dong, DING-dong, goes my doorbell (Westminster chimes).

Who the FUCK could this be, I think, and as I walk downstairs in my boxers, I already know. I get to the front door and open it.

Lila stands there.

She is a mess. Her hair is a tangled morass, and her mascara is streaming down her face in long black streaks, like the cover of the "Live Through This" album.

"I fucking hate you," she says.

"What-"

"I FUCKING HATE YOU!" she screams. Holy shit, she is out of control.

"I hope you fucking die, Steve, I hope you fucking die a slow, painful death."

"Baby, I know you're upset,"

"No, you DON'T know anything!" she says. "All you do is hurt me! All you do is lead me on and make me think you care about me and then you dick me over every fucking time and I HATE it! I fucking HATE you!"

"Don't say that, Lila." I go to hug her. She hits me in the chest.

SHIT! That hurt!

"Why do you hate me? Because I went out for a beer with a friend? Because I have a fucking LIFE?" I say.

"Fuck you, Steve!"

"You're high, aren't you?" She doesn't really seem high, but it seems like a good thing to ask. And she was definitely high earlier.

"FUCK YOU!" Her face is twisted into an evil snarl. I took this beautiful girl and I made her ugly. What is wrong with me?

"Lila, come inside and sleep until you sober up. We'll talk in the morning. I'll sleep on the couch. You can have my bed."

"I'm NOT high! Fuck you, you asshole! I never wanna see your fucking face again!" She throws a wild punch and hits my arm. She turns and storms off towards her car.

So I suppose one last screw is out of the question?

I watch as she drives off. Actually, she seems to be driving pretty normally, so I don't go after her.

**********

Saturday morning, around 11. Lila's house.

"Hi, Steve." It's Sophie. She doesn't look happy.

"She here?"

"Come back later, Steve," she says, shaking her head, looking disappointed.

"Sophie, I need to talk to her now."

"Not a good idea, Steve."

I brush her aside and go to Lila's room.

She's sitting up in bed, staring out her window. She's still wearing what she had on last night.

"Baby, are you ok?"

"No."

"We have to talk," I say.

"I can't do this anymore, Steve. I never should have gotten back together with you," she says. "We want different things, we're different people...."

I pause. "I know," I say.

"I don't want to be mad at you," she says. "I don't want to hate you. I love you too much. It's not good for me to love somebody that much. I'm just gonna get hurt. I want you to be happy and I know you can't be happy with me, so-"

"You have to know that I love you," I say. "Please believe me, I love you so much."

"I know," she says. She's not looking at me. She's deliberately avoiding eye contact.

I don't want to "convince" her to do things my way anymore, as far as not getting serious. That really would bother me. Sure, we're "serious" in that I'm telling her I love her, but she needs lots of attention, and if I can't give it to her, she freaks. It's instinctively making me push her away. I'm tired of lying to her, tired of hurting her. She deserves better than that, and she deserves someone better than me.

"Just go, Steve."

"I don't WANNA go."

"Please? I just wanna be alone right now."

"Can I call you later?"

She doesn't answer.

I'm guessing that's a no.

As I walk out the door, I can hear her sobs.