Page 5 of With Wine Comes War
Sounds about right. We laughed knowingly as I scanned his office. There were all kinds of pictures of him fighting and trophies he’d won. There was no dust in this office. All the trophies and photos looked to be regularly and professionally cleaned— you could tell. His pride inhis accomplishments boosted my confidence in his ability to teach me to do anything I needed, as far as fighting goes.
“Well, we know I have all kinds of issues, but being physical like this helps keep the noise in my head quiet. Not to mention that physical pain mutes the mental and emotional shit. This is the only therapy I can handle right now.”
He seemed to truly get it, nodding his agreement— never trying to placate me. Suddenly the mood changed as he leaned back crossing his arms over his chest. I watched as his normal tough guy face turned to a more sympathetic one—the kind I hated. I grabbed the arm of the chair with both hands, squeezing till I was white knuckled, gearing up for whatever sympathy he was going to throw at me. The kind I was going to do my best to deflect.
“I get that. Can I talk to you for a minute about the court case coming up?” My stomach churned at the thought of seeing him in court.
Just breathe, Alex.
I hesitantly whispered, “Okay,” and tried to loosen my grip on the chair. Business mode was officially gone as I started to slink down in my seat again. I swallowed hard to push past the lump in my throat.
He kept the “I feel sorry for you” face and said, “I can only imagine you don’t like discussing this, but you know I’m going to be there and if Tanner doesn’t take a deal, I may have to testify. Look, I’m fine with that, but what I'm not fine with, is this right here." He waved his hand at me. "You look anything but fine right now and I want to make sure you’re fine in there.”
I had no idea how I was going to be any different in the courtroom. Bruce was the one who found me after Steve, the bartender from Sebastian’s, saw the attack on a monitor from the office. The bar was crazy and crowded that night. He called Bruce immediately—Bruce didn’t hesitate, thank God. He threw Tanner off me before he could do anymore damage. For that, I will be forever grateful. But I don’t know how he can help me be okay with the part where my mind is playing tricks on me. I’m so confused about Roman. Why did I think it was him?
I mumbled with my chin in my chest, shaking my head trying not to make eye contact, as I pushed the thoughts as far from my mind as I could. “I can’t answer that right now. I’m so angry. I want to rip his fucking head off.” That’s the kind of anxiety this topic gives rise to. My breathing was erratic, and my heart was starting to beat so hard I could hear it drumming in my ears. My grip on the chair returned.
“I know. I want to help you with that.” At least he didn’t tell me to calm down. Instead, he used his calm voice. He came around his desk, leaning against it in front of me. He reached down, gently nudging my chin up to focus my attention on him instead of the floor.
“How?” I spit out like he was my target instead of Tanner. He didn’t even flinch— he leaned back against the desk and crossed his arms.
“I’m going to train you, personally. It’s not just about fighting. It’s about control.” Bruce firmly gripped my shoulders and held my death stare to snap me out of whatever this hostility was that gripped me, bringing me back to the room. “Control over your mind and body.” The thought of having control again forced me to listen, and I blinked a few times— I felt like I had control of my mind again, suddenly. “By the time you get to that courtroom I want you to be ice cold. I don’t want that guy to think for one second that he broke you.”
Sounds like Bruce and I might be on the same wavelength. I took a few deep breaths to calm down before adding to the conversation. It’s not his fault this happened so taking it out on him wasn’t fair.
“Do youreally think that’s possible for me?” I groaned, putting my hands over my face to hide the expression that I thought it might be impossible. He snorted, nudging my shoulder lightly and it still almost knocked me out of the chair.
“You’re the most determined and motivated person we’ve had in this place in a long time. Some of our pro fighters have asked if you were going to go pro.”
I couldn’t help but crack up laughing as I doubled over wondering how he'd feel knowing what my determination was. He laughed with me, patting me on the back to bring me out of my hysterics.
“Finally, something I’m good at.” I felt like fighting was the only thing right now that was really me and the only thing that was going to help me get through this.
He quit laughing, shaking his head. Maybe he didn't think I was even good at that.
“I seriously doubt that’s true.”
“Well, I guess we'll see. Okay, so when do we get started?” I clapped my hands, mustering up some enthusiasm. If I hadn’t felt like I got run over by a truck, I’d be ready to go right now. The ache in my back and shoulders was encouraging me to take a hot shower and drink a bottle of wine. There's a bottle of cab waiting patiently on the kitchen counter, as a matter of fact.
Bruce stood up, walking back around to the other side of his desk. “Can you do Tuesdays, Thursdays and Saturdays?” he asked, while looking down at the desktop calendar.
“Hmm, let me check my schedule,” I pretended to flip through a non-existent planner “…ha ha, just kidding. I’m free every day. I’ll be there.” Thank God I have this to fill my time. Being unemployed is not something I’m good at. I’ve worked since I was fifteen years old.Without a job or these classes, I’d probably drink everyday all day long. Maybe that’s what happened to my mom.
He chuckled. “Great, let’s start this Thursday. Are you still going to take the kickboxing classes?” I stared at my hand picking at the hem of my shorts while I thought about the answer to that.
“Yeah, I still like seeing the girls. I’m trying to ease back into our relationship. So much changed before all the crazy shit, and I still haven’t processed how fast it all came crashing down. Shit was good. Then it wasn’t.” I cocked my head without looking at him, staring aimlessly at a picture on the wall. It was of Bruce all bruised and battered after a fight, holding a championship belt.
“Been there too. Look, for what it’s worth, you’re doing damn good considering everything that’s happened, and if you need someone who’s not emotionally attached to the situation to talk to, I’m here for you. I find it easier to have those sessions while punching stuff.” I looked back at Bruce, giggling at the thought of him as my therapist. I figured I’d taken up enough of his time and he was starting to get mushy. I hated that shit and I wasn’t ready to discuss my reasoning for this with anyone just yet, if ever.
“I may take you up on that.” I gave him two thumbs up. “I appreciate all your help and your friendship, Bruce. I’m not expecting you to take it easy on me either in these training sessions.”
It was best to keep him focused on keeping me on task even though he has no idea what that is.
“Oh hell no. I’m not letting a woman kick my ass!”
That’s what I’m talking about.
“You may not have a choice.” I winked with a devious little smirk on my face.