The Event

by Carolyn Ridder Aspenson

  A new Angela was born. A stronger, harder Angela—one that refused to let them win, ever again.

  Any of them.

  Five minutes later I'd pulled into the Defense Tactics studio parking lot where my friend Detective Scott Price stood by the door waiting for me.

  I grabbed my gym bag from the backseat where Mr. Green Suit had been just a few minutes before and groaned as I pulled it to me. I bit my lip hard to distract myself from the pain in my abdomen.

  He smiled. "You sure you're up for this? You were pretty sore last time."

  "I'm not afraid of a little pain."

  We held our eye contact for a few seconds, and then he said, "Okay then," and opened the door.

  The only way Price would work with me was if I took it easy and wrapped my abdomen. I'd fought him, saying if I got hurt in a fight, I couldn't pause to wrap anything then, so it shouldn't matter. He was adamant though, and I needed the training, so I acquiesced. I found the wrap in my bag, pulled up my shirt and put it on.

  Two months before I would have been embarrassed and at least asked him to look away, but I no longer cared. All that mattered was getting stronger. If Price felt the need to look, that was his deal, not mine.

  He didn't. He turned away and busied himself until I finished.

  We ran through the basic series of beginner self-defense moves as a warm-up and memory refresher. Next, he put me through a series of punches. I wanted Price to teach me to fight, not just disable and run. If presented with the choice, I wouldn't run, and to me, not fighting was the same as running.

  He held my waist and forced me to draw my power from my hips and core. I dug my upper teeth into my lower lip and tasted blood. We'd had three sessions so far, and my form had improved. I still lacked real strength, but eventually, that would improve, too. Doing anything with two broken ribs and a badly bruised body wasn't easy, but sheer adrenaline drove me.

  We moved to kicks, and I forced myself to bust through the pain, focusing on improving my speed and intensity. Powerful kicks came from the core, not the leg. Flashes of sharp, piercing pains shot through my abs and in my lungs. Tears flooded my eyes and poured down my cheeks, but I didn't stop.

  I wouldn't stop. I couldn't stop.

  I screamed, and even though my kicks were probably softer than a toddler's punch, they took every ounce of energy I had. I could barely breathe, my ribcage bursting in agony, but I kept going and finally landed a superb kick right where it hurt most.

  He yelped and went down. "Jesus, Panther, that hurt." He cupped himself and rolled back and forth on the ground. "You're a lot stronger than you think."

  I stood over him trying hard not to giggle. "I'm sorry. They have things you can wear to protect yourself down there, you know."

  "I'm wearing one, but that doesn't stop them from hurting."

  "Oh." How would I have known that? They didn't make cups for women.

  "Let's take a break. I'd like to make sure I can still have kids someday."

  I pulled my water bottle out of my bag and drained it in a few gulps. My ribs were on fire, and I paced the small studio to distract myself from the pain.

  Price saw me wince. "We can finish later. You need to rest."

  "No."

  "You're damaging your body more by not giving it time to heal."

  "I gave it two months. It's time to suck it up." I worked on my technique against one of the heavy punching bags lined up near the back wall. I kicked and punched with all the limited force my core allowed. I rotated sides and came at the bag with a half twist from my left, screaming from the stabbing pressure it caused. I didn't let it stop me though, kicking and punching with my stronger side. I reminded myself that though I'd barely survived the beating, I did survive, so I could handle the pain to strengthen my body and mind, too.

  "Never again," I yelled. "Never," I punched the bag harder. "The hell," I kicked the bag with my stronger leg. "again."

  With each move I imagined LuAnn Jacobs and her sorry excuse for a nephew, Stu Walker, screaming out in pain. The harder I punched and the stronger I kicked, the more I imagined them falling to the ground, begging me to stop, and the better I felt.

  Price walked up behind me and held my shoulders until I stopped. "I think that's enough for today."

  I bent over in pain, breathing like I'd just run two marathons and then pushed him away. "Five more minutes."

  He tightened his grip. "No. You're done. You're pushing too hard today. What the instructor says goes, remember?"

  He was right. We'd made that agreement when I'd approached him for help, so, I couldn't argue. I wiped the combination of sweat and tears from my face. "Fine." I clutched my ribs as I walked back toward the bench.

  "I think we should cut back to two times a week." He threw me a towel from the rack near the front desk. "Don't know why I let you talk me into three in the first place. Aaron will kill me if he finds out, and I don't even want to know what Jake would do."

  I dried off with the white hand towel. "Nothing because he isn't going to find out, remember?"

  He nodded. "I made you a promise, and I intend to keep it, but you can't hide it forever."

  "I don't want to hide it forever. Just until I'm healed, and they can't give me crap about it."

  He sat next to me, pressed his palms into the tops of his legs and sighed. "You're not a victim. You've proved that. I don't know anyone, hell, not even my S.W.A.T buddies, that would work themselves with an injury like yours. You need to let yourself heal."

  I threw the towel to the ground. "Come on. Like I haven't heard that a million times already? I was a victim, but I won't be the next time." I inhaled too deep, and daggers stabbed at my core.

  Price watched as I paced through the pain again. A former Navy Seal, he saw things I couldn't begin to imagine. His experience was exactly what I needed to take back my life. As a police officer, he trained both recruits and victims in self-defense. Aaron was also a certified instructor, but I needed someone objective, someone who wouldn't worry about the emotional side of it, and Price promised he was that guy.

  He nodded. "

  As I walked out the door he said, "One day this won't matter as much as it does now."

  I tipped my head once and smiled, but he was wrong. It would always matter.

  * * *

  When I'd first approached Price for help, we met for what he referred to as the classroom part of self-defense. He taught me about the awareness pyramid and how it applied to various situations. I'd never thought about it, but it made sense, and I'd kept myself in a constant state of awareness since that day.

  There are five levels of awareness ranging from totally oblivious to fighting for your life. Most people, at least before September 11, 2001, spent their days in the totally oblivious state, the white zone. After the terrorist attacks, the general public probably stepped up to the next level, yellow, where they were relaxed but attentive. That was my usual state, especially since I had to keep my eyes out for spiritual beings. The orange was for a heightened state of awareness, where the person knows there is a potential threat any and everywhere. The beat down changed my world, and I moved from the yellow to the orange and stayed there. I saw everything, everyone, as a potential threat, and I planned to be prepared to take them out. I kept focused on everything around me, and even though there might not be a potential direct threat of danger right beside me, I knew one always lurked just outside of my safe zone.

  The last two levels, the red and black, were where the threat was up close and personal, and when the fight is active. I didn't plan to step into the black zone where I'd have to fight for my life because I intended to take them out in the red zone before they saw me coming.

  I wasn't naïve. I knew, no matter how much I wanted to tell the Universe to take a hike, it wasn't my choice. But that didn't mean I had to do things on their terms. They changed the rules when they took my mom from me, so I decided to change how I played the game.

  My personal F you to
the Universe.

  Price labeled my attentiveness anxiety. I called it my safe zone, and that was why I didn't flinch when I saw Mr. Green Suit nuzzled in the front passenger seat of my car, his green top hat squished into the ceiling instead of floating through it.

  I threw my bag into the back seat. "Whatever you're selling, I'm not buying."

  He flashed his creepy, toothy smiled.

  Most spirits weren't solid, their bodies transparent enough to make their living status obvious. Some weren't though, and those were the tricky ones. Several times I'd found myself standing in the grocery store chatting it up with an older woman, and then she'd suddenly shimmer away. Before, I'd leave my groceries in the cart and rush out thinking half the store saw the crazy woman talking to herself about the amount of sugar in her Cheerios. But once I made the news a couple of times, I stopped caring.

  Mr. Green Suit fell into the tricky category, solid as a brick and not a hoverer. When he swallowed, I watched his Adam's apple bobble.

  If leprechauns were real, what exactly were they?

  "What are you?" I poked him with my finger, and it made contact with his green vest. I flinched. "You're not a ghost, are you?"

  He shook his head.

  "Then what? Are you alive?"

  "Not really."

  "Ah, so you do have a voice. Why don't you use it and tell me what you want from me?" I positioned myself to drive and started my car.

  "I don't want anything from you. I'm here to give you something."

  "I'm pretty sure you don't have anything I want, but thanks."

  I'd exited out of the parking lot and onto the main street about two miles from my house.

  "What if I told you-you could have anything you wanted?"

  I slammed on my brakes and made a hard right at a street I'd almost passed. The driver behind me honked and flipped me off. I waved my apology.

  I pulled into the subdivision's clubhouse parking lot. "Okay, spill it."

  "If you could have anything, what would you want? What would you ask for?" He gave me his toothy grin again. I didn't trust it.

  I stared at him, not really sure what to say.

  "Think about it," he said, and then he disappeared.

  * * *

  I had the house to myself. Jake had texted earlier saying he and Josh were out practicing driving, and Emily was at work. Lately, all I'd wanted was alone time, so I headed straight to take a relaxing, healing bath.

  I dumped half a container of lavender scented Epsom salt into the steamy water, let the tub fill some, added soap for bubbles, and dipped my toes in, only to jerk them right back out. The water steamed from the tub, and I should have realized it was too hot to get in. I flipped up the cold water nozzle and filled it some more, and then finally eased myself in, sinking down to chin level so my entire torso would feel the relief from the medicinal salt. I closed my eyes and refused to think about what Mr. Green Suit asked.

  The mixture of salt and bubbles felt wonderful. I closed my eyes and breathed in the sweet lavender scent and enjoyed the quiet until Gracie's cold nose bumped my forehead.

  She licked my wet face.

  "Hey Gracie Girl. What's up?"

  She licked my face again as if I'd understand the non-verbal cue.

  "Do you need to go potty?"

  Her tailed flopped back and forth, and then she turned in circles and settled on the rug in front of the tub.

  Gracie didn't leave my side for the first few weeks after the incident. She'd always been my girl, but she must have sensed my pain and glued herself to me even more. Dogs were intuitive, and I suspected Gracie knew I'd changed. She sensed the anger inside my soul, and I wondered if her decision to stay by my side was out of protection or support.

  I finished up in the tub when the water cooled, and Jake and Josh pulled into the garage. I tensed a bit, waiting for the sound of car meeting wall but it didn't come. Last week while practicing, Josh backed out of the driveway, tugged the steering wheel to the left and smacked right into the neighbor's mailbox. He and Jake spent the next day pouring cement into the hollow shaft to secure it back into place.

  I put on my pajamas, catching my breath as pain seared through my lungs. Price was right. I'd pushed myself too far. I gave myself a moment and then practically crawled downstairs to say hello.

  Josh gave me a once over. "You okay, Mama?"

  "Yeah, just tired from trying on dresses with Mel." I hated lying to my kid, but I didn't want him to worry any more than he already did.

  Jake hugged me without squeezing. "We're thinking pizza for dinner. Sound good to you?"

  I nodded, shuffled to the ‘fridge and grabbed a flavored water. I'd given up Diet Coke and just about everything yummy tasting and jumped on the clean eating bandwagon. I wanted my body fit and strong, and for that to happen, I needed to view food as fuel, not fun. It wasn't all that hard to make the switch. When it's too painful to move, the last thing you want to do is get up and get a cupcake because you had a craving. "Can you get me a salad with grilled chicken?"

  "Will you ever eat pizza again?" Josh asked.

  "I'm sure I'll treat myself sometime, but I'm really trying to take better care of myself so I heal faster."

  Jake called in our order and left. Josh stayed with me.

  "I saw Uncle Ernie," he said.

  Josh also had the gift, but it hadn't impacted his life as it had mine, and he took it all in stride. I hoped it would continue that way for him. So far, the Universe hadn't asked anything of him, and the last thing I wanted was for him to carry the burden I carried.

  My Uncle died four years before Josh was born, but that didn't stop them from forming a relationship. He'd come to Josh through dreams at first, and when Josh was old enough to recognize him in a picture, he started coming around during the day. They'd established a strong connection, and I loved it. "You did? What did he have to say?"

  Josh grabbed a flavored water from the ‘fridge too, and then he pulled out a chair from the kitchen island and plopped into it. "Nothing really."

  Josh was a kid of few words, and it annoyed me like crazy. Getting him to string more than two sentences together was practically a miracle. "Okay then. So how was your day?"

  "Fine."

  "How ‘bout you give me a little more than that?"

  "It was fine. Just a normal day."

  "Did anything exciting happen today?"

  He shook his head. "Not really."

  "How about anything unexciting?"

  "Found out a girl in my class is pregnant."

  Josh was just fifteen. "Dear God."

  "Yeah, said the father is some guy she met at the bowling alley."

  "I don't even want to know." I was just thankful it wasn't my daughter. "That girl's life is changed forever."

  "What about the kid? He's screwed." Sometimes Josh lacked empathy. He got that from his father.

  "Well, I hope things work out for the best for all of them."

  "The dude's like your age."

  I winced. "Then I hope he's in jail."

  "She's sixteen already. Age of consent."

  "Tell that to her parents." I changed the subject, asking detailed questions to get more than just a yes or no answer. He filled me in on his driving, the meeting with the new lacrosse coach at the school, and an assignment he had for AP Biology. I told him if he needed help with that he'd have to hit up his dad because biology wasn't my thing. He agreed but said he'd handle it on his own.

  My little man, as I'd used to call him, was growing up so fast, and I desperately wanted the little Josh back for just a few hours. Funny how we don't really live in the moment, and then when the moment is gone, we wish we could have it back.

  Jake and Emily walked in together, but Emily rushed upstairs to change and then left to meet her boyfriend, Mike for dinner. The two were practically attached at the hip, and considering the guys she'd dated in the past, I hoped it worked out.

  I ate my salad while Jake and Josh talked
politics, their newest and my least favorite subject, so when Mel texted, I welcomed the distraction.

  "Any sign of the lepro-demon?" she asked.

  I didn't have the energy to go into it all, so I lied and texted no.

  "I talked to Aaron about the green theme."

  "And?"

  "And I'm going to kill him."

  "Club soda will get his blood stains out of your clothes."

  I watched the three dots on my phone and waited for her response to pop up.

  "He was joking. Can you believe it? And he thought I knew it. All this time we've been planning this horrific St. Patrick's Day themed wedding, and he was kidding."

  "Oh wow," I texted back. I'd thought he was serious, too.

  "So, I told him I thought he was serious, and that we'd bought our dresses and paid an extra $500 for the green dye."

  I laughed. "That's awesome."

  "I know, right? He's on his way here now to apologize." She attached a laughing emoji face to the end of her message.

  "You gonna tell him you were kidding?"

  "Eventually."

  "Priceless," I texted and sent an echo of laughing emoji faces to her.

  "Gotta go, he just pulled up."

  "Keep me posted."

  I finished my salad, swallowed back my new supplements, and headed into the den to watch TV, feeling both of Jake's and Josh's eyes burning into my back as I walked.

  I flipped through channels on the TV and settled on a mindless home improvement show, thinking about Mel's wedding. Before I realized it, I'd formed a list of things I wanted in my mind. I wanted to be healed. I wanted my mother back. I wanted no responsibility to the Universe. I wanted to feel whole again.

  The next thing I knew, I was back with LuAnn Jacobs, feeling every kick she gave me, screaming for my mother to help. I'd had the same nightmare nearly every night for two months. When I woke up screaming in the chair, Jake was on his knees, his arms wrapped around me.

  * * *

  Mel and I met at Rendezvous Café and headed back to the dress shop to purchase our gowns. Since the green theme was out, we found me a light taupe colored sheath style with a similarly shaped top as her dress. We forked out the cash for both my dress and the one she'd placed on hold while laughing at Aaron's reaction to her joke.