Elizabeth

9: Losing

Romeo

They convinced me to stay an hour longer. When the hour passes, I collect everyone. Tonight, oddly, I was the only one who didn't touch a drink. Maybe it's good. Now I have someone I must take care of...I must take care of Elizabeth.

"I want to stay," she complains and begins to curse me in Spanish.

"Oh mi vida," I grumble. She pats her chest with a cloth to dry it off. I can see her pouting when it doesn't get dry.

"You boys will deal with the consequences tomorrow morning," I say.

"Aye, captain," Evan says and winks at me.

"Let's go," I say once more.

"I'll get the car," Casso says. He's not drunk, but he's completely tired. He overworks himself.

"No. I'll have a bodyguard grab it. You can barely stand," I say.

"Yes, Dad," he complains.

"Let's go, Elizabeth," I say. She smiles and stumbles over to me in her heels. She can't walk. I pick her up over my shoulders and hold my hand under her butt while I can feel her hitting my back.

"Upside down!" She squeals, for she's upside down the way I hold her. "Romeo! Set me down!"

"I said, let's go," I say once more.

I lead everyone outside. My guard has the truck. Santino tries to take the keys. I elbow him and grab the keys to drive.

I put Elizabeth in the passenger seat. Everyone else piles in the truck.

"I heard about how you had sex with the other girl," she says in Spanish as I drive off.

Fucking idiots. I don't respond to her.

"You know, Casso has a big mouth." I'm glad Santino's the only one who knows Spanish...because he doesn't say anything to anyone. "Am I not good enough to have sex with you? Or am I not good enough?" She asks. I've never seen this part of her. They say that drunk words are sober thoughts. Is this really how she feels? "I have boobs," she says and looks down at her. She touches her dress and gets occupied trying to get the stain off her dress. "I could give you that. Is she that much better?"

"You're drunk, Elizabeth," I say. I try to appeal to something else rather than her prying me about my sex life.

"No. You're drunk," she tries. She reaches over to touch me; I gently push her away while keeping control of the truck. I just need to get everyone safe.

"I just want to be good enough," she says and begins to cry. She turns away from me and wipes her tears.

Am I like this when I'm drunk?

...

In fifteen minutes, we are home. Everyone gets out. I go to Elizabeth's side. She's dead asleep. Her lips are slightly parted, and her hair is on her face. This time, I pick her up bridal style and hold her close to my chest.

Upstairs, I lay her on the bed rather than the couch she's been sleeping on for the past few days. I take her shoes off and go to the bathroom to find a makeup wipe for her.