Page 4 of With Wine Comes War
I grabbed my bag and climbed out of the car, leaning against Betty (aka: my car) for one more ounce of strength to get me through training. The girls were sitting on the bench changing shoes, giggling about something to each other. I smiled and waved. Just like always,the giggling stopped, and the phony smiles commenced. I turned away from the pity party, marching myself up to the desk to check in and talk to Bruce. I loved the smell of chalk and sweat that permeated the air in the studio. It kept my head fueled with what I needed to keep on task. I laid my hands and forehead down on the desk in front of Bruce, moaning at the thought of trying to have a pleasant conversation with the girls.
“Hey, Bruce.” The words came out more like a gust of wind than words, but I’m sure he got the gist of it.
“Hey fighter, what’s up?” He seemed busy, only looking up briefly, ignoring my dramatics.
“Can I talk to you after class about something?” I raised my head enough to look at him. I guess that got his attention because he stopped what he was doing, squinting his eyes, maybe wondering what I might be wanting to get into now.
“Of course, Is everything okay?”
No, but what else is new.
“Yeah, I just think Monday's class has run its course and I was hoping to try something else.” He nodded like he knew what I was thinking.
“Okay, we’ll talk later.”
I turned around, taking a deep breath as I tried to figure out how I was going to approach these two now.
I stood up straight, fixing my ponytail. I walked over to the girls like I was just fine, even skipped once before plopping myself onto the bench. I reached down to change my shoes, giving them the side-eye. I could see them trying to look at me, seemingly afraid that they might turn to stone, maybe, if they make eye contact. I pulled my laces tight, letting out thebreath.
“See this is what I’ve been trying to avoid.” I gestured between the three of us. “The awkward silences. The ‘I’m so sorry’ sad eyes, the emotional hugs. The fucking pity.” I leaned back against the wall and stared at the ceiling hoping it would fall on me.
Maggie said, “Would it make you feel better if I called you Jerkface?” Abby shoved her, giving her a warning glance. I chuckled and that actually felt good.
“Yes, as a matter of fact, I’d love it if you called me that. Why are you walking on eggshells around me?” I was still staring up at the ceiling with my arms draped down to my sides like the weight of the world rested on my shoulders.
Abby said, “You won’t talk to us.”
I let out a despondent breath. “Because I don’t like the topics you want to talk about.”Can’t we just let it go for a while, like forever?
“Don’t you think it would be healthy for you to discuss them?” Abby said with a look of total irritation. I was squinting at her from the corner of my eye, trying to understand where my friends were coming from. I just wanted all this to go away.
I laughed flippantly. “Clearly I don’t.” I threw my hands in the air, letting them slap down on my knees to bring a little life back into my arms and warm them up to punch the sandbag.
Maggie chimed in, “Fine, Jerkface, let’s go hit shit!” She was good at moving on from sensitive topics.
“NowthatI’m willing to discuss.” I blurted out, nudging Abby a little with my shoulder.
I know they’re just trying to help and I’m sure I should probably be speaking to a professional but the only one I feel comfortable talking to is Dr. King. Since she’s also Roman’s mom, she’s currently not an option.
After class I fist bumped the girls on their way out and on my way to meet Bruce in his office.
I practically threw myself in the small black chair in front of his desk, letting out a sigh as I slumped down. I pulled the rest of the tape off my wrists while I sat there, balling it up in my hand, then pitching it to the trash can by the door. I smiled as it went in. Right now, I’ll take any small win I can.
Bruce got right to the point of the meeting. “Ok, so no more self-defense class. That’s fine, you could teach that class anyway. What can I do for you then?”
I pushed myself up in the chair and put my best business face on.
I matter-of-factly stated, “I want to learn MMA fighting. I want to train privately.”
He looked a little surprised.
“Are you planning to compete?”
That never even crossed my mind. I just wanted to be able to kick a certain someone’s ass. I quirked my eyebrow thinking of all the ways I could have defended myself that night if I had known something more— sooner.
“No, I just need to push myself right now.” I’m sure that was the better response.
“I understand that feeling. When football was over, I needed an outlet and fighting fit the bill. I didn’t have any underlying anger issues, though.” He looked thoughtfully at me, remembering the time I told him I felt really angry. “I did it strictly to keep my adrenaline pumping.” He continued, “Apparently I liked to beat myself up.”