I still don’t know what Chris said to them or what kind of deal they’d struck, but for that one week, I felt like I was about the coolest kid in the school.
Of course, at the end of the week, whatever deal Chris had made with those kids expired and they went from being overly nice to ignoring me entirely. They never picked on me again or even showed any kind of interest in my direction at all.
That was the problem.
Instead of seeing how far he’d managed to turn things around, I just felt like he’d somehow cheated me out of my new friends. What can I say? I was in kindergarten.
I think that’s actually when I stopped looking at my brother as a hero and started looking at him the way that I do now. Thinking back over it that way, I feel guilty. He’d helped me in the best way he knew how to, but I couldn’t see past my own flawed understanding of what was going on.
Over the years, he started giving me real reasons not to trust him, so it just made sense to hang onto that impression.
There’s a knock on my door and at first, I ignore it. I don’t feel like getting out of bed. I don’t feel like talking to anyone. I don’t feel like being me right now.
Another knock comes and I convince myself to get out of bed, though getting dressed and actually answering the door are still distant concepts.
A third series of knocks lands on the door and I slip on my bathrobe and drag myself out of my room. I open the front door.
“Hey,” Ash says. “Can I come in for a minute?”
“Sure,” I tell her. “Sorry it took me a minute to answer the door,” I start, but don’t bother with an excuse.
She comes in and sets her purse down on the coffee table. For a minute, I’m not sure what to expect, she’s so quiet. Either this is the calm before the storm that’s about to be directed toward me or she’s going to be all too willing to forgive, and I’m not sure that’s any better.
“You scared me last night,” she says.
“Yeah,” I say. “I’m sorry about—”
She holds up her hand and I stop. “Just let me say what I need to say, please,” she says. I nod. “You know that I’m not a fan of all the fighting,” she continues. “I’m going into nursing because I want to help people who are injured and you injure people semi-professionally.”
“I don’t know that it’s even that professional—” I start again, but stop on my own. It’s not going to make any difference and, what’s more, it’s not the point.
“What’s helped me work past that has been getting to know what a sweet, caring man you really are,” she says. “Until last night, you pretty well shattered most preconceived notions I’ve had about people who do what you do.”
She takes a breath. Her eyes move quickly from one of mine and then the other, searching for something. What, exactly, I don’t know.
“I know what happened to Chris really got to you,” she says. “I get that, I really do. He’s your brother, and that’s not going to change no matter what he’s done or where he is right now. That said, I am not going to be with someone who takes their anger out with violence.”
“That’s what I’ve always done, though,” I tell her, knowing the excuse to be thin. “Last night, things just got a little out of hand. It’s not going to happen again.”
“Things could have been a lot worse,” Ash agrees, “but that’s not because you stopped it. They had to pull you off—it doesn’t matter. What matters is that I’ve come to a decision.”
Even knowing I’m the one in the wrong, there’s a growing tension building in my stomach at the words, “I’ve come to a decision.” Those words have never signaled anything good for me.
“What’s that?” I ask finally.
“I’ve decided to offer you a choice,” she says. “I can tell you what I need and you can tell me if it’s something you’re willing to do. Does that sound fair?”
“I guess that depends on what you’re going to tell me,” I answer. It’s not a kind or chivalrous response, but at least it’s the truth.
She takes another breath and crosses her arms. “Have you ever tried therapy?” she asks.
I don’t need to get mad; I just need to hear her out. Even knowing that, though, there’s still a tinge of bitterness in my voice as I answer, “I’m not really that big on therapy.”
“That’s up to you,” she says. “I just know that I can’t be with the guy from last night. I don’t know if therapy’s the solution or not, but I know that the way you’re dealing with this isn’t—I get that this all sounds demanding,” she says, interrupting herself. “I’d understand if this is too much of me to ask for where we are in our relationship, but I’m just telling you that I’m not willing to just go along with everything while you’re trying to tear down everything in your life.”
I want to tell her that’s not what I’m doing, but the more I think about it, the more I realize she’s right. “Do you know why I fight?” I ask. “I’m not talking about last night, I mean in general. Do you know why I still do this even though I know my chances of making it into the octagon are really, really small?”
“Why?” she asks, devoid of any visible interest in the answer.
“It’s not because I like hurting people,” I tell her.
“I know that,” she says, “but that doesn’t change the fact that—”
“Please,” I tell her, holding up my own hand, reflecting her earlier gesture. “I fight because that’s the only time where I really feel like I’m in control of anything. It’s the only time I’ve ever really felt that way. With everything else, there are just so many variables, and in my experience, anything that might go wrong usually does and when it does, it’s usually worse than anything I’d imagined.”
She’s slowly shaking her head as I’m talking, but she’s listening. Maybe I’m not really getting through, but at least she’s listening.
“I know I need help,” I tell her. “What happened last night wasn’t just about Chris. To be really honest with you, I’m not entirely sure what all it was about. I know that I don’t like the guy from last night, either. That’s not who I want to be, and I know this may sound like a load of crap, but that’s not really who I am, either.”
“If I thought that’s who you really were, I wouldn’t be here right now,” she says, “but that doesn’t excuse what happened.”
“I’ve seen a lot of therapists,” I tell her. “Going to court as much as I did as a kid, you get put into a lot of shrink’s offices.”
“If you have a better idea, I’m all ears,” she says. “I’m just telling you what I need. Maybe I don’t have the right to tell you how to deal with your problems, but I wanted to at least tell you where I am. I just know that if we’re going to have any sort of a relationship, what happened last night can absolutely never happen again. You lost control, Mason.”
“I know,” I tell her. “I don’t know what to do.”