Tristan
I’m lying in my room with my girlfriend, Gina. She’s passed out and I’m watching reruns of That 70’s Show. I watch her chest rise and fall and wonder if maybe I’m in over my head with this girl. If maybe it would be best to accept she isn’t going to change, and walk away. When I first met her at the bar, she was so carefree I was immediately drawn to her. She appeared to be completely immune to the world around her, only living in the moment. What I didn’t know at the time was that her carefree attitude was due to the excessive drinking and drug use. She hid both from me at first, but slowly she started showing her true colors. We got into a huge fight about it, and she promised me she would slow it down, but that was a lie. It has only gotten worse the last couple months.
I’ve asked her to get help but she tells me she has it under control—she’s just going through some shit at home. It’s obvious she’s turning to the drugs and alcohol as an escape, but she needs help. Help I’m not in a place to give her. I don’t know what she’s been through because she won’t open up to me, but when she gets high enough or drunk enough, she’ll let little pieces slip out. I’m worried about her but I don’t know what to do. I’m a twenty-year-old college student living off a trust fund for God sakes. I’m watching one of my good friends, Marco, go through something similar, and I feel helpless.
There’s a knock at the door and Gina stirs, the blanket dragging down enough to reveal her bare ass. I rush out of the room to answer it, so she doesn’t wake up. Last night was rough. She said she was visiting her mom and then a few hours later, she showed up at my apartment drunk and high and crying. I held her hair back as she threw up until she finally passed out. I don’t know if her issue is with her mom, so I’m hesitant to reach out to her for help, but I’m going to have to do something soon. I open the door and Marco comes storming inside.
“Where the fuck is she?” he spits out. His eyes are bloodshot and glossy, and it’s clear he’s high as a kite. I see Bella hiding behind the door, looking terrified, so I try to stop him from coming in.
“Marco…you need to calm down, man.” While I’m built from years of working out, Marco is a UFC fighter. He slams his fist into the door—pushing it open—then stalks inside looking for Bella. When their eyes meet, he starts spewing out insults, calling her a bitch and accusing her of ratting him and his drug problem out to his dad.
We’ve all known for some time he has a drug problem, but because of how it started—his best friend driving them home from the club after Marco won his title fight, wrecking the car, and being put into a coma, while Marco was injured so badly he couldn’t fight—we’ve made excuses for him, hoping he would get it together. Judging by the shit he’s saying, Bella must’ve told his parents what’s going on.
I cut him off before he says anything else to Bella. “You do have a fucking drug problem. Bella was just trying to help. We’re your friends.”
Marco barks, “She’s not my friend. She’s nothing to me.” Then he looks at Bella. “You have enough problems of your own to be worrying about me. Focus on your fucking self.”
Bella’s eyes go wide and she begs him to leave.
“Why? Afraid pretty boy here will learn the truth? Or wait…did you end up doing what I suggested after all?” His eyes drop down to Bella’s stomach and a horrible feeling comes over me.
“Bella, what’s he talking about?”
Marco laughs. “Oh, this is great! You had time to call my fucking dad and stir up shit, but you forgot to mention to your best friend here that you’re knocked up.”
I’m shocked as shit because I didn’t even know Bella was having sex. Sure, she’s my best friend but we don’t exactly do girl talk.
I’m trying to get my head wrapped around the fact Bella is pregnant while Marco continues to spit shit out about her having an abortion.
“So, Bella”—Marco laughs humorlessly—“tell us. I mean you got in my business, so it’s only fair I know yours.”
Bella’s head drops slightly. “I—I’m having the baby.” I have no idea what’s going on, but it’s obvious Bella doesn’t want to say who the father is—or maybe she doesn’t know or he doesn’t want the baby.
“And who’s the lucky guy? Who’s the guy that’s fucked for life?” Marco questions.
I see the tears streaming down Bella’s face and the words come out before I can stop them. “I am, so worry about yourself.”
“I call bullshit,” Marco spits out.
“You can call whatever the fuck you want. I was just shocked you knew. Now get the fuck out. Bella’s baby is mine!”
Of course this is the moment when Gina decides to come out of the room. Her hands go to her mouth and tears well up in her eyes. I have two options: save Bella or save my relationship with Gina. I choose Bella and I continue to choose Bella for the next seven months.