Brawler

by Tracey Ward

  The day after the shop opened, Dan sent me pictures of the inside, of the cake, of Jenna being toasted and congratulated. She looked amazing. Glowing. I was so damn proud of her.

  What did she decide to call the place? I texted Dan.

  North Star Ink. The logo is the same as her tattoo. Bryce says he’s suing for copyright infringement.

  Tell him good luck.

  I gave him my business card. I got your e-mail last night. Congrats on getting into the Fire Academy!

  Thank you. It wasn’t easy.

  Nothing great ever is. I was surprised to hear you had told Jenna about applying.

  My palms sweated. I wiped them on my jeans. I’m ready to tell her a lot of things. Everything.

  Good man, he replied immediately. I’m proud of you.

  I didn’t reply, but I stared at those words off and on for half an hour. Then I called Ben.

  “I’m ready,” I told him breathlessly. “I have one last thing I want to do before we bring her into a session with us, but I’m ready.”

  He didn’t hesitate. Didn’t give me time to chicken out. “How long?”

  “Two weeks. Exactly two weeks and I’ll bring her and I’ll tell you both everything.”

  “I’m marking my calendar.”

  “I’m sweating bullets,” I joked shakily.

  “She and I will both be there to support you. Not judge you, not fix you – support you as you take this step toward healing.”

  “A year ago I would have laughed in your face for saying hippy shit like that.”

  “A year ago you were a different man.”

  And wasn’t that the hard, honest truth?

  The next day I bought a truck. One with a large cab and plenty of seating where a person could sit next to me and talk to me, not ride behind me where I didn’t have to see or hear them the way I’d loved when I was with Laney. It was brand new, gleaming black and I immediately took it to a shop to get it screen printed and personalized, making it mine. Making a commitment to something.

  I paid for it all with a check, using my dad’s money the way I’d done when I’d paid for Jenna’s building. She didn’t know that yet. It was another truth I’d have to tell.

  ***

  Two weeks later, I was still looking for a job, but I was finishing up my paperwork for entering the Fire Academy. I’d still need to finish my coursework in Fire Technology, but with my EMT Certificate and the promise of completing the academy to earn my Certificate of Completion of California Firefighter 1, I was making a lot of progress. My life would get crazy soon with the work load of both school and the academy, but I was ready for it.

  I was also ready to bring Jenna into therapy with me. I was ready to tell her the truth, about everything. At my last session, Ben and I had rehashed everything I’d told him so far. He knew everything about Jenna, Laney, and I. I filled in some of the gaps I’d left in our first session because back then, I honestly didn’t trust him with all of it.

  Sitting there in front of him during that last session, I took trembling fingers to my phone and texted Jenna. All it said was a date, a time, and Ben’s address. She didn’t reply, but I knew she’d be there.

  She pulled up in her SUV, stepping out and jingling her keys nervously as she scanned the shopping center parking lot for my bike. Her hair was down over her shoulders, whispering over her skin, the black color blending with her tattoos and giving them movement, making them look alive. Part of me wanted to stay in the truck or pull away before she saw me, but I jumped out and called her name before the coward in me could take control.

  “Jenna.”

  She turned toward me, smiling, then scowling in confusion when she saw the truck.

  It was about to get worse.

  I stepped out entirely, closing the door to let her see the decal on the side. It was a compass rose covered in brilliant purple lettering that read, North Star Ink with the phone number and address listed underneath.

  Her jaw dropped. “I…”

  “What do you think?” I asked, smiling at her shocked expression.

  “About the truck or the free advertising?” she chuckled.

  “Truck first, advertising second.”

  She grinned. “Hot, and thank you. That’s unbelievable. I can’t believe you allowed purple on your car.”

  “If your logo had been hot pink it’d be another story. That purple I can handle.”

  “What happened to the bike?”

  “It’s still around. I garaged it for now. This made more sense at the moment.”

  She paused, her grin quivering hesitantly. “I heard you’re on the job hunt. Congrats on passing the exam.”

  I was both a little relieved and annoyed that she already knew. “Your dad told you?”

  “Yeah. Should he not have?”

  “It’s fine. I was going to tell you when I had a job lined up.”

  She smiled sadly. “Used to be you would have told me the hour it happened.”

  “Yeah, I know,” I admitted softly, “but I… I have things I’ve been lining up. Things that… things you need to know about. Things I want you to know, but I haven’t…” I felt like I was drowning. I was choking on the thoughts and the words and I worried I’d never be able to do this. It wasn’t who I was and I didn’t know if it could be, even if I wanted it to be. “I know I’ve been distant. It’s not what you think, though. I have to… Fuck.”

  “Kel, it’s okay.”

  “It’s not,” I told her fiercely. “Not yet. But it will be, I swear.”

  “I trust you.”

  “Still?”

  “Always.”

  I stared at her in amazement, then pulled her to me and hugged her. It felt simple. Uncomplicated. Just Jenna in my arms and her impossible strength and faith in a black hearted son of a bitch like me that was scrabbling to be a better man. As I held her, as her strength leaked into my skin and my veins and my bones, I knew I could do this. I had to. For both of us.

  I led her to Ben’s office, opening the door and letting her step inside first. I saw the confused look on her face when she read the name on the door, specifically when she read Ben’s title.

  Family Therapist.

  Nancy, Ben’s receptionist, was sitting behind the desk in the front when we stepped inside. She grinned slightly when she saw me.

  “He’s waiting for you now,” she said, gesturing to the solid unmarked door to our right.

  I nodded a thank you, then took Jenna’s hand in mine to lead her back to the room I knew so well. When we went inside, the room was dark – just as I’d asked Ben to make it – and Jenna squeezed my hand nervously. I held it tighter, hoping to reassure her.

  “Kellen, right on time,” Ben said happily, standing to greet us. “And I see you have Jenna with you. Excellent.”

  “Nice to meet you,” she said, shaking his hand.

  “You as well. I’ve heard a lot about you. I’m Dr. Phillips. You can call me Ben if you prefer.”

  “I don’t know yet,” she replied nervously.

  “What has Kellen told you about our process? About what he has planned for tonight’s session?”

  She looked at me helplessly and I felt bad for throwing her blindly into this. “I have no idea what’s happening. I’m getting that you’ve started therapy?”

  I nodded silently, afraid to speak. It was getting real. The darkness was creeping in and the animal was getting angry. It knew why we were here.

  “Okay. That’s good. Right?”

  “I hope so,” I replied deeply.

  “It’s wonderful,” Dr. Phillips interjected. “It’s the first step down a long road, but we’ve already been making progress.”

  “How long have you been coming here?” she asked me.

  “Since the day after we told Laney about us.”

  It wasn’t entirely true, but it wasn’t exactly a lie either. In honesty, I’d been coming to see Ben since we’d kissed in the bathroom, but I didn’t want to lend more w
eight to that moment than we’d already given it, and to be fair, I hadn’t started talking about the things I really needed to work on until that session immediately after we’d had sex. To me, that was when the real therapy had begun. It was like the difference between the anniversary of your first date and the anniversary of the day you were married. I was more focused on when I’d really committed to what Ben and I were doing here.

  “And you’re a family therapist?” Jenna asked Ben.

  He shrugged noncommittally. “Normally, yes. I do deal with families and couples therapy. Marriage counseling. But Kellen and I have been doing some initial one on one, and now he’d like to involve you in the process.”

  “We’re not married,” she told him bluntly.

  He grinned. “I know that. That’s alright. I understand you have a long history, though, and Kellen has told me you’d both like to move forward in the relationship, but there are roadblocks.”

  “I’m fucked up,” I clarified.

  Jenna shot me a tense look. “You’re not.”

  “I am.”

  “He is a little,” Ben agreed.

  Her jaw dropped. “Are you allowed to say that?”

  “Evidently, yes,” he replied easily.

  “Okay, well,” she said slowly, eyeing Ben with curiosity. “I’ll do whatever I can to help. What do you need from me?”

  He pointed to a corner of the room where we had agreed he’d set up a chair for her. “I need you to sit silently in that corner for this entire session.”

  She looked warily at the chair. “Am I on time out?”

  “I can’t think about the fact that you’re here,” I explained plainly.

  “Then why am I?”

  “Because I need you to know some things. Things I can’t tell you. Do you remember the day on the sidewalk outside the gym when you covered my eyes and told me to pretend you weren’t there?”

  “Yeah, of course.”

  “I need you to do that again. Someday maybe I’ll be able to tell you the things I need to tell you while looking you in the eye. I hope I can, but for now, I know I can’t. So I need you to sit where I can’t see you so I can forget you’re there and you can hear the things you need to know about me.”

  She looked at me for a long moment, her eyes searching mine. I held onto her and I tried to use the sight of her pure honesty to keep me buoyed to the surface, but I wasn’t sure it would last. Where we were about to go, I didn’t know if anything could keep me afloat.

  “Okay.” She glanced at Ben. “So, I’ll go do that now? I’ll sit down over there?”

  “And stay absolutely still and silent,” he reminded her.

  “Alright.”

  She moved to take her place in the chair, but I caught her arm as she passed me, looking into her face with all the gratitude I had in my body.

  “Thank you,” I said seriously.

  She grinned faintly. “No problem.”

  “I mean it, Jen. I know it’s a strange thing to ask.”

  “Kel,” she whispered, her eyes going watery, “I’d do anything for you.”

  Right then, standing on the threshold of my worst nightmare, I understood that feeling.

  I gently pulled her closer and pressed my lips to her forehead.

  I sat down on the couch with my back to her as she took her place in the chair. With the room dark and quiet, it would be easy to forget she was there. Especially considering what I had agreed to do today. I wouldn’t have a lot of attention for anything else. The coward in me would be too consumed with fear, anger, and hate.

  “There are things I’m going to say,” I explained to them both, sitting forward in my seat, “that I’m only ever going to say once. That’s why you’re both here.” I turned my face toward the corner of the room, careful not to see her. “Jenna, I need you to know all of it. I can’t promise I’ll ever talk about any of it again, but I’m saying it to you now. It’s not everything you want, it’s definitely not as much as you deserve and I know that, but it’s also not easy for me, and I hope it’s enough.”

  I flexed my hands, gripping them hard until the right one ached. “I grew up in the foster system in L.A. because my mom died when I was a kid. She was my only family. It was just her and I in a tiny apartment on the wrong side of The Strip. We didn’t have much. Most of what we had was left over from my grandpa. He was a low talent boxer who drug her to Vegas from Ireland when she was only seven, right after her mom disappeared into thin air. My dad…” I sat back hard, taking a deep breath as my anger flared at the thought of him. At the thought of his stupid name, and his money, and his pity, and his worthless ass that was never there for either of us when we needed him most. “That son of a bitch was never around. I never met him. All I have of him are my eyes and a bank account full of dirty money. He opened the account in my mom’s name. Dropped large sums of money in it every month to help her with me, but my mom refused to touch it. Even when things got hard.”

  I hesitated, standing on the edge of remembering things I desperately tried not to think about. “She started getting sick when I was eight, right when I started boxing. I wanted to be like my grandpa because I didn’t understand yet what a piece of shit he’d been. As she got sick she had to stop working as much. Money got tighter but we always managed to stay afloat. Even when she quit entirely and moved us out here to California. She started staying in the hospitals longer and longer. She started shrinking. She was pale and fragile. By nine years old I was bigger than her. I weighed more.” I rubbed my hand over my mouth, clearing the sweat that was forming on my lip. “She was wasting away in front of me and I couldn’t stop it. Then one morning she didn’t wake up.

  “I was alone after that. I went straight into the foster care system. It wasn’t bad at first, but I was a kid crying every night. People didn’t know what to do with me. I got picked on for being a baby and I started lashing out. I started fighting. I was good at it. Better than my grandpa ever was. I got in trouble for fighting. Families wouldn’t take me in because I was considered violent. I started being put with different types of families. People more prepared to handle my aggression.”

  “People who were aggressive themselves,” Ben guessed quietly.

  I nodded. “Yeah. Yeah. I took beatings in those homes. A lot of them. I learned to dish them out and I learned to take them but I hated it. I always hated it. It’s why I fell in love with boxing. It took all of that anger and violence and it structured it for me. It organized it until I could deal with it and I didn’t feel like I was drowning in it. Once I figured that out, I stopped fighting back. I took the beatings.” My throat constricted as my stomach rose. “Along with everything else,” I croaked.

  I shot out of my seat, my legs too tense to take it anymore. The doors were rattling, the animal was snarling, and the entire cast of my disgusting, perverted life threatened to break free and devour me. Devour her.

  “I can’t talk about this with her here,” I snapped at Ben, as though it had been his idea. “I thought I could, but I won’t do it.”

  “Why not?” he asked calmly.

  “Because it’s fucked up,” I said, thinking it was obvious. “It’s ugly and I won’t let it anywhere near her. You can put a pin in it and maybe someday you and I will talk about it, but I’m never discussing it in front of her.”

  “Kellen, are you afraid of her judging you? Of seeing you differently?”

  “I’m afraid of tainting her with it!” I roared, losing my shit. “She’s perfect and I’ve ruined that.”

  “You haven’t ruined her, Kellen.”

  “I’ve been inside her,” I seethed, my eyes burning down at him with so much contempt and self-hatred that I couldn’t believe he didn’t cower. “I’ve held her. I’ve kissed her. Everything that was done to me, everything that I’ve done, has been done to her now.” I drug my hands through my hair, pulling and yanking until it hurt. Until sections came out in my hand by the root.

  It was that old feeling. The
feeling of wanting to escape my skin. To shed it entirely just to get away from it, to know what it was to be clean for the first time in my pathetic, worthless life. The animal fought and snarled inside of me as the memories banged their doors open, pushing and pulling at us both with bony, ragged hands. His rage beat them back, it held them at bay, but it couldn’t last forever. The room was getting cold. My back began to ache.

  I couldn’t stay this close to the surface without getting ripped to shreds. I began to sink slowly, unwillingly. Inevitably.

  “We need to talk about this,” Ben said firmly. “This is why we’re all here, Kellen. This is the root of the way you approach sex. Why you use it to distance yourself from people. You’re using it to take control, make it your choice, but you’re unable to feel anything in connection to it because you’re afraid of the emotions that go with it.” He paused, waiting for me to respond, but I wouldn’t. I couldn’t. I was gone. “You’re afraid of sex, aren’t you? It stirs fear inside you. Hate. Anger. The violence you work so hard to keep in check. Which is why you shut down. Why you choose to feel nothing.”

  I shook my head slowly, unable to stop the rhythmic movement that rocked me back and forth on the hard floor in the cold and the dark where I was calm. Removed.

  “When you had sex with Jenna, what did you feel?” Ben insisted.

  “Pain,” I answered reluctantly. “It hurt more than anything else.”

  I stared into the darkness at the doors that lay open and the demons that leered and licked at me greedily.

  “Because you were trying to connect with her,” Ben explained. “Kellen, the fact that you felt anything at all is a breakthrough. Even better that it wasn’t anger. What else did you feel?”

  “Grateful,” I heard myself murmur, giving life to feelings I didn’t realize I’d felt. I’d been too scared, too consumed. Nothing else had seemed to matter.

  “Why grateful?”

  “Because I knew… I knew if I fucked it up, she’d still be there.”