Enigma

by C. M. Lally

  “Old man? If it weren’t for my bad knees, I’d get down on that mat with you and hold my own. Don’t you forget that.” He shakes his finger at me before grabbing at his throat. I hand him his cup of water to wet it again. That intubation tube did a number on him.

  “Yeah well. I’m going to need a new grappling partner,” his forehead wrinkles in confusion. “Things aren’t working out with Jade and me anymore.”

  “Liam said she made a few rookie mistakes with coaching. Big deal. She’ll learn.”

  “It’s a combination of a few things, but she almost caused me to lose the fight, Lou. I’ve never lost a fight in my life. I can’t forgive that.”

  ‘Humph.” He turns away from looking at me, disgusted. “Forgiveness. Do you hear yourself?”

  Anger rises in me like acid, burning its way to my throat, and I bite my tongue. Neither of us can afford to get upset. “I don’t want to talk about it. Jade is a problem for another day.”

  An orderly comes in with a clipboard. “Mr. Kadra. You’re being moved to a Transitional Care Unit right now.” He grabs Lou’s plastic bag of his personal belongings from the tiny closet and sets it on the bed.

  “We’ll talk after dinner, Lou. I’ll see if they’ll let me come visit later. If not, then tomorrow; that’s when they are releasing me.”

  The orderly does a quick sweep of the room, opening drawers and looking under the bed, to make sure all Lou’s belongings are in the bag, before releasing the wheel locks and moving him out.

  “What room is he going too?” I ask, holding the door open for him although he’s my size and could handle it all by himself.

  “Paperwork says 1107A.”

  “Lou, I’ll stop by later or tomorrow morning.”

  “See ya then, Kol.” He waves at me, his arm loaded down with tubes, and still connected to the bags of liquid trailing behind him on the IV pole. He looks worn out.

  Another orderly shows up to wheel me back to my room.

  I hope he’s getting better and not rallying for a grand exit. My foster mom’s mother did that. She was on her deathbed, quiet for days with a ragged, rattling noise coming through her lips.

  We were made to go in and see her since she sent us Christmas gifts every year. Then one day when we showed up, she was sitting up in bed. She also looked sleepy and worn out, but she spoke when talked too. Her face was animated when something funny was said. Then later that night, we got word she died. I can remember Carrie saying over and over, “but she looked so good this afternoon.” Then Carrie slowly faded away from us, deeper and deeper into her depression over her mom.

  Then Max became angrier and greedier having to raise us on his own. We fought even more after that...almost every night until the night Brent Baxter died.

  I sigh heavily as I’m wheeled back into my room. The orderly helps me back into bed, even though I can do it on my own. He turns the lights down and leaves me to the darkness and my thoughts of Lou again. I hate this concussion protocol.

  I was too young to remember my parents. Lou took on that role when the Porter’s failed. We had a rough start to our relationship, but he’s the only one that never gave up on me or wanted me for anything other than to be my friend, besides my foster brothers. I can’t lose Lou now, and I won’t give up on him. I’m a fighter.

  But what about Jade.

  “LOU, I TOLD YOU BEFORE, I can’t work with Jade anymore. I’m sorry, but that’s my final decision.” He reaches for the remote and turns the TV off. “You can do what you want to do. You’re the one who wanted to take her on, seeing something in her. She’s got talent, but she and I can’t train together anymore.” I sit back from the edge of the chair, resting my head in my hands. The pounding of the hammer inside my head is coming back.

  “What happened? You were supposed to bond and become a solid team.” His voice is raw and weak. His tone accusatory.

  “Oh, we bonded alright— in the bedroom and the bathroom. Then on the living room rug by the fireplace...” he waves his hand to stop me.

  “Fucking is not bonding,” he drawls out slowly and quietly afraid of who might come into the room.

  “We did bond. She told me her secrets. I told her some of mine. We built some trust, but she wanted me to admit my feelings, and I can’t do that.”

  “Why not?” He takes a long sip of water from his cup. “I’m disappointed in you. Do you know why women want us to talk about our feelings so damn much?” He struggles to sit straight up in the hospital chair. He finally leans forward, feeling the need to drive his point home. “Because other men have fucked them up so bad playing cat and mouse games, they can’t trust actions anymore. So they rely on words.”

  “Yeah, they want the words so they can sling them back at us the minute they get mad. I’m not a words man. No thanks.”

  “That’s not what I’m saying,” he chokes out. “Words show them your character. They show how shallow or how deep you care. Then they look in your eyes, and they know.”

  “Know what?”

  He slaps his hand on the arm of the chair. “Jesus, man. Are you that clueless about women? They know if you were lying about what you said or telling the truth. Women have a keen sense of bullshit. They know when it’s being shoveled and when it's not.”

  “I don’t believe that. I’m not a poet, Lou, and I’m certainly not a mind reader.”

  “You don’t have to be. Speak from your heart.”

  “I don’t know fancy words. Why isn’t ‘I wanna be with you’ good enough?”

  “Because of what I just said. Other motherfuckers have lied to them over and over. ‘Oh, yeah, Baby. We’re exclusive.’ Then you’ll see that same fool out on the corner a few hours later rubbing on some other woman, who’s also eating up his same lies. How are they supposed to believe us?”

  “I can’t help what other men have done. They’re not me.”

  “I’m not saying it’s fair. I’m saying that you have to take that into consideration when you decide to be with a woman. You have to fully decide to BE with her. That means sharing yourself, and that includes all the talk about feelings.”

  I need some aspirin. My head is pounding.

  “C’mon, Kol. She can’t be the first woman you’ve bedded and felt something for.”

  I rub my temples in small, tight circles because the hammering has turned to a dentist drill in my head. She is, damn it. She is. I fucking love her.

  I look up at him, my hands are wrapped around my head to stop the pounding, and he knows. The pity in his eyes floods the air between us.

  “Well, shit.” A smile creeps onto his face that’ll probably never go away. “My little boy’s in love.”

  “Fuck you, Lou.” The need to stretch my legs and stop the incessant throbbing in my head is intense. I pull out a packet of aspirin from my pocket, swallowing a few down whole, and pace the floor back and forth between the bed and the bathroom door. “She’s a ray of sunshine in the morning, and a damn solar flare at night. She turns me on with the way she dresses like a boy to hide that perfect body and the strength in which she hip flips me knowing I’m twice her weight is fucking hot as hell. She’s kind and gentle, and sarcastic and stubborn. We come from the same kind of hell, but she refuses to let it hold her back. She’s a fighter. I wanted her in my life.”

  “Wanted?”

  I walk over and stare out the window thinking about the night of the fight, or what I can remember anyway. It was so loud, but I could hear every word she said. It all went against everything Lou had taught me. I knew she didn’t have any experience, but yet I agreed to her calling the shots.

  “You didn’t see Jade at the fight. She was pure chaos, and I couldn’t trust her.”

  “Kol, she didn’t know what she was doing. She was trying to fill in for me, and tell you what to do. She had her hands full with that task alone.” I look at him in disbelief. He stares me down, daring me to challenge his statement. I know he means well, but damn, sometimes words hurt even fro
m a trusted friend.

  “C’mon, Kol. Take a poke at me. You know you want too. Tell me I’m as stubborn as you are. The difference between us is that I know I’m stubborn, because I have to be that way for your success. You seem to think you are the easiest person to deal with.”

  “I am,” I screech, surprised he doesn’t agree.

  “No, you’re not. You ride her hard with your perfectionism. You balk when she makes mistakes and then continue to remind her of them, even after she has clearly learned the lesson. That’s being stubborn, in case you didn’t know the definition.”

  “You ride me hard. I’m simply following your lead.”

  “Her edges aren’t as hard as yours. You can take sharp jabs and character assaults; she can’t. Not yet anyway.”

  “Oh, I see! You’re easing up on her because she’s a woman. Now I get it. Well, I’m not like that. I wasn’t raised with chivalry and gentlemanly ways. This is the age of equality. If she wants to hit people and pin them down, then she’s going to have to toughen up— in all areas of her life.”

  “Be careful what you ask for. You just might get it.”

  The door pushes open hard and bangs against the wall. We both turn to see who’s coming in.

  Jade.

  She stands like a Barbie warrior with her painted nails flared out like Wolverine, roasting me to hell with the fury in her eyes.

  “All I wanted was to know you liked me as much I liked you. I wanted to know I wasn’t a three-night-fuck and duck-out because I’ve been that before. You needed to show me there was a human underneath that ape-like exterior, one that feels and cares; one that can actually cherish another person. I’ve seen that in you, granted it only shimmers at times like a shapeshifter before it disappears. Congratulations. You’re the asshole everyone knows you to be. We’re done, and I’m gone.”

  She walks over to Lou and kisses his cheek then rubs her thumb against his whiskers. “I’m going to miss you, Lou. Take care of yourself. You've got a good heart.”

  With her back to me, she turns and walks from the room.

  “Dumb ass. Are you gonna go after her?” His thumb is extended out in mid-air pointing to where she stood.

  I rake my hands through my hair and take a seat on the bed. I either royally fucked up or saved myself some aggravation. Right now, there’s a big part of my heart breaking, but there’s also a piece of it reminding me we were both fighting a losing battle. I flop back onto the bed and blow out a breath.

  Chapter Twenty-Four - Jade

  PEOPLE DON’T UNDERSTAND the concept of how powerful words can be. They can lift up, or they can tear down in less than one second.

  “She was pure chaos, and I couldn’t trust her.”

  His words keep ringing in my ears.

  I’ve stayed away for a month. I bought blackout curtains and hung them so I wouldn’t be tempted to look out the window at our main connection. Then I stubbornly re-arranged all my furniture to face opposite of the view that no longer exists. At least in my mind anyway.

  I’m disappointed in myself. I did what I always do— hooked my dreams to a plan that fizzled.

  Today is a great day for a fresh start. Today restarts the ‘finding my own way’ process again. New jobs are in the works and a new place to live is hopefully working out soon. Limitless Martial Arts has been letting me use their gym for workouts just to steal my business from Liam.

  The leasing agent is bringing prospective new tenants to look at the place in the morning. The only way he’s letting me out of my lease is if he can rent it for the rest of my contract and...”not a day less.” He said the last client was promising. We’ll see how this new one fares.

  I have three job interviews lined up this weekend. My fingers are sore from crossing them in hopes of someone hiring me with the zero job skills I possess.

  The girls are coming over in a bit for a primping party. They say it’s to make me presentable for my interviews, but I suspect it’s an intervention. They’re saving me from my self-induced hermitage. I’ll still take the primping party, because that’s what girlfriends are for, right?

  Spending this past month all by myself has helped me figure out more of what I want and who I am. No more getting caught up in how someone feels about me. What matters is how I think about myself, and I’m proud of the person I am.

  My phone chimes with a text from Angie.

  A: Turn your oven on to 425° F. I’ll be there soon.

  Me: Mmm....hurry! I’m starving :)

  I remove my baking sheets from the oven and turn the temperature to what she requested. I wonder what she’s bringing.

  The main door buzzer echoes through the room, and I race to see who it is.

  “Girl, let me in. This bag is pulling all the hair out of my head by its root, and there’s little enough as it is,” Leanne cries. I buzz her in and snap the lock on my apartment door. A few minutes later, she’s huffing and puffing her way in. She drops the bag of hair supplies with a heavy thud on the floor. So much so, the can of hairspray pops out and rolls across the wooden floor.

  “I hope that didn’t disturb your neighbors down below.”

  “Nah, no more so than my constant walking around or rearranging the furniture.” I shrug my shoulders at her, throwing her my innocent, but guilty smile.

  She swings her head left then right slowly taking in my apartment in its entirety. “Yes, I see the new view...or lack thereof. Candy mentioned something about a Goth phase. Hmmm.”

  I roll my eyes heavenward at the suggestion. “Oh my god. I’ve not gone Goth. I’m taking on a new perspective. It’s temporary. I assure you.”

  “Okay, good. I did bring black hair dye just in case, but I’m glad I can put it back on my shelf now that you won’t need it.”

  I clench my teeth in horror, bobbing my head to confirm. “We’ll go with baby blond this time.”

  “You got it! I hope Angie hurries up. I’m hungry. Today was so crazy busy, I didn’t get to eat lunch.”

  “She’s on her way. I turned the oven on for her.”

  Just then, the buzzer echoes. Leanne runs over to the speaker and presses the button. In her deepest voice, she says, “Yeah.” We both giggle into the speaker.

  “C’mon, let me in. This tray is heavy, and I have to pee.”

  I buzz her in while Leanne opens the door. We both stand at the entrance with our arms open for whatever it is she’s carrying. Angie and her need to pee are legendary in our circle of friends. We’ve learned to get out of the way and clear a path to the restroom.

  Within seconds, we hear her stomping up the stairs.

  “You have to live on the Fifth floor,” she gasps, and I grab her bags and the tray while she does a mad dash for the bathroom. As I close the oven door, the buzzer rings again.

  I press the button. “Please tell me this is the nail tech and that you’ve brought wine?”

  “Winner, winner on the nail tech, but that’s a negative on the wine.”

  “Go away and don’t come back until you have wine,” Leanne demands.

  “Ugh. Angie said she was bringing Chimichangas, so I brought Margaritas instead.”

  I look at Leanne in surprise and whisper, “That didn’t smell like Chimi’s to me.” I press the speaker button again. “Password?”

  “Bitches, please. Let me in before I have to drink all these myself on this doorstep.”

  I buzz her in and twist the lock to jar the door open for her.

  When she arrives, she hands me a heavy canvas bag. I peek inside to see a motherload of loose strawberry margarita cans. The tall ones. “I thought you said you brought Margaritas?”

  “I did,” she exclaims, dropping her hand inside the bag and pulling one out. “Hey, I’ve had a rough day. I need alcohol, and I’m not waiting on a blender.” She pulls the tab and takes a long drink.

  “But I like the sugar around the rim of my glass,” I pout, pursing my lips extra wide in displeasure.

  “Good Lord, woman
. If you’ve got a lemon, I’ll put sugar around the rim of the can for you.”

  “Yay! Deal.” I clap my hands and squeal like a child getting my way.

  Angie comes waddling in from the bathroom and plops down on the couch, hoisting her legs up on the footstool, kicking her shoes off. “Ahhh, that feels great,” she moans, wiggling her toes.

  “How much longer before the food is ready? Candy’s going to be drunk in the next ten minutes if we don’t feed her.” Candy finishes off her first can of margarita and points to me in agreement.

  “It’s ready now. I only wanted to keep it warm, not knowing when everyone would arrive. Go. Eat. Be merry.” She shoos us into the kitchen away from her, as she leans back and closes her eyes. Her first trimester is wearing her out.

  We dig in, serving ourselves, and tossing cans of Margarita’s to each other. I fix a small plate for Angie and pour a tall glass of water for her, carrying it to her with my new found serving skills from Dontonio’s.

  I miss working there.

  Mostly, I miss Shawn’s smile and carefree manner. He was a great boss. So easygoing...unlike his asshole brother.

  “Uh oh. Someone stop her. She’s got that far-away look in her eye,” Candy teases, nudging my arm with her elbow to get around me as she takes her seat in the chair. “Are you thinking about him?”

  “Him? Him, who?” I crook my head in pretend confusion, batting my eyes at her.

  “Alright,” Leanne chides. “Let’s eat. We’re not here to go down lover’s memory lane or to bring you down. Tonight is about celebrating our strong friend, who needs a makeover for her new life.”

  “And apparently some memory loss,” Angie mumbles under her breath before taking a bite of her food.

  “What?” I challenge her remark, swallowing a bite of rice. I tuck my leg under my butt to sit a little taller in the seat. “I heard something about memory loss.”

  “I was saying, you need some memory loss. There’s Ginkgo Biloba to help you remember things, but what about something that helps you forget? Instead of Xanax, they should pass out memory loss pills. We could all use that at different times in our life.”