May 5th, 2016
Sam spent a lot of time telling me I needed to learn to fight.
After Dennis, she spent the night trying to make sure I didn’t slip into a coma.
I told her that was nonsense, but she seemed genuinely invested in keeping me alive.
Of course, when I’m not possibly suffering from a concussion, she seems to be trying to get me killed.
More times than I care to count, she’s started fights with people so I can learn to finish them. She learned that if someone was going after her, I’d fight. If someone was coming after me, I’d run.
She wanted me to fight until I no longer thought about why I was fighting, I’d just finish the fight. I’d win.
That night last… geez, two weeks ago? With the Rat who attacked me in the parking lot? That had started out well. That was me showing her I could handle myself. Until the crowd turned against me.
Anyway, so after Dennis, after a few nights of fighting people for whatever reason, she decided it was time to meet Becky. Or Rebecca. Honestly, I have to try to keep people’s real names a secret so that no one can use them to get to me but after a while… sometimes it’s hard being so disassociated with your own experiences you can’t even write the names that have been carved into the forests and stonewalls of your dreams.
I have a polo I put on, sprinkled some cologne to smell nice. When I mentioned I should re-dye my hair before I saw Becky again, Sam put her fist right into the side of my neck. “Get your head in the fucking game, idiot,” she told me.
We went over to her house, a few hours after I knew Becky would be home from work.
Honestly, I thought this story would be easier to tell after a few months.
Sam rang the doorbell. I was right behind her, looking at the particle board that covered the broken window above her sink.
Becky opened the door wearing gym shorts and a tank that was more than a bit too big, that hung about her chest like a decorative curtain, and a white gold necklace that dangled a green stone right between her…
I’m going to focus and get through this story so that…
Focus, focus, focus…
“Hi, are you Becky?” Sam said. You know when people say people can hear you smiling on the phone? I could totally hear it. Becky didn’t say anything. “I’m Tracy, I’m Dick’s sponsor. Dick is working towards sobriety and I feel like there are certain things he needs to confront because he can make amends and move forward in his life.”
“Should you…” Becky was appropriately confused. What we needed her to do is say, “Sure, come in,” and then we would make our way through her kitchen and into her living room. There, Sam would sucker punch her and I would watch her dominate Becky until I realized that my ex was not the invulnerable witch I felt she was. Becky is a muscular woman, she’d probably kick my ass. But Sam’s plans all incorporate sucker-punching at some stage in the plan and it seemed it she was unafraid of Becky’s ability to come back.
“Come in,” Becky said. We stepped in, I was careful to look behind the door to make sure no one was waiting to grab me and turn me in. What I should have been concerned with was the fact that I’m facing assault charges and Becky is a key witness to that. In fact, she’s considered to be the reason why I attacked those guys. So, someone jumping out from behind a door was a hypothetical threat when I had already exposed myself to a very real one.
It smelled like weed in there, like her place always did.
“I like your kitchen,” Sam said. I could still hear that smile in her voice.
Becky led us into the living area, past her bed and over to the couch. “Have a seat,” she said, placing her palm against her forehead and breathing out some of her confusion between those gentle, masterful lips…
Damn it! Damn it, I have to focus.
Moments away from watching my girlfriend bloodied, I started to get sick to my stomach. I wasn’t sure that it was what I wanted, but… nothing made sense to me anymore. I’d tried everything else to get past the relationship. Maybe this was going to finally give me closure.
The second Sam said the words “How much did that cost?” was my cue to stand back. I get the impression a lot of Sam’s cues have to do with how much things cost. I think she must have imagined Bob Barker beating a man to death on the Price is Right. It’s my only explanation.
“It smells really nice in here,” Sam said, not taking the seat that had been offered to her.
“Yeah, I’m sorry,” Becky began waving her hand in the air, “It’s probably not good for his sobriety.”
“Oh, aren’t you sweet? I’m sure he’ll be fine.” Becky turned on a fan pointed out the window. “Do I smell-“ and then Sam said one of those fancy kinds of weed that I don’t know, one of those ones that really paint a picture.
“Maybe, I guess,” Becky said. “I smoked the last of that a few days ago. Actually I just got-“ and then she said one of those fancy kinds for weed that I don’t know, one of those ones that really paint a picture.
“Wow…” Sam said. …how much did that cost? “It’s got a really nice aroma.” Nope, not yet.
“Doesn’t it?” Becky’s nose wrinkles and you can see her top teeth whenever she gets a compliment.
Sam’s head tilted to one side, she looked up two inches just to see Becky’s neck. “What a beautiful necklace. It really flatters your skin tone.”
“Oh, my God, you’re so sweet,” Becky said, smiling over at me like I had brought her some surprise gift.
Sam raised her hand up to Becky’s breasts, “May I?”
“Sure,” Becky said.
Sam plucked the jewel at the bottom from between the delicate cleft and I had to take a deep breath as my heart rate spiked. She cradled it into her hand, the back of her fingers brushing against the tender slope for one envious moment. She raised the stone up, to hold it against the light. “It really matches your eyes,” Sam said. How much did that cost.
Becky tilted her eyes down, fighting back a grin.
She wasn’t watching Sam at all. She had no idea what was about to happen.
Sam lowered her hand, just in front of her neck.
I placed my finger in my mouth, all of a sudden realizing I couldn’t handle seeing Sam punch her in the throat the way she had done to me earlier. She released the stone and it slid down her chest into its resting spot. Becky couldn’t help giggle a bit, nervously or something, “So do you want a seat?”
“Will you sit with me?” Sam answered.
“Okay…” And they went and sat on the couch that I moved into that spot from Becky’s old place. Sam sat in the middle. Becky sat next to her. Her bare thigh pressed against Sam. Sam crossed her left leg over her right knee, placing her hand on her left leg so it was resting against Becky’s leg.
“What the hell is going on here?” I said.
“Dick, why don’t you wait outside?” Sam said.
The two didn’t say anything. Becky continued to avert her gaze downwards, rolling her lower lip back beneath her teeth. Sam smiling at her from the corner of her eye, still bloodshot and yellow.
“How much did that cost?” I exclaimed, throwing my hands out in a begging motion.
“What?” Becky asked, breaking momentarily from her vexing.
“How much did that cost, ‘Tracy’?” I said again.
“Jesus Christ, Dick. Go wait outside.” I could feel my eyes drying, unable to close. “Fucking trust me. Go outside. You don’t want to be here for this.”
I stepped outside, closed the door. I pushed the particle board away from the window to listen for… well, it was silent. But silence quickly turned to moaning. I waited for sounds of struggle, for brutality.
“Oh, my God, Tracy…”
“Call me ‘Sam’.”
I felt like crying and jerking off, all the while thinking, Well, this is new.
I dragged my feet to the Bronco and drove back to my dark little corner of the world.