Page 6 of Crash & Burn

As she continues, she starts to rip at the paper towel around the frozen bag of fruit on her hurt hand. “I had my drink in my hand, and there wasn’t much left. It was my first reaction to turn and throw it in his face, so that’s what I did. I thought it would be enough to send the message that he had no right to put his hands on me. But then, he wiped his face, looked me up and down with this disgusting smirk, and winked at me.”

I feel myself breathing a little heavy, and I can’t unclench my fists. The more she says, the more pissed off I am that this guy got out of this withjusta punch to the face.

“So I threw the punch,” she concludes.

Mateo nods his head as if he’s putting all the pieces together.

He’s the type of guy to have a solution for a problem or a way to fix something, even if it isn’t broken. From what I understand, this has happened before. I don’t know to what extent, but it has happened. And I doubt he’s going to let it happen again.

While I think it is awesome that Mia stood up for herself, you also never know what someone is capable of, and she’s lucky she didn’t get hurt even more.

Even though she shouldn’t have been hurt at all in the first place.

Physically or emotionally.

And I only care about her like that because she is my buddy’s little sister.

“Look, Mia,” Mateo starts. “I see why you did it, but this can’t happen again. You could get seriously hurt.”

I can’t help but chime in, “You never know what could happen. I’m a bartender, and I’ve watched fights, that don’t seem too big, escalate into full-on brawls, and believe me, shitty people don’t care who’s in the crossfire.”

There have been so many times where it takes two or three of us to break up fights, and the guys working at Lenny’s aren’t exactly the type who let bullshit slide. Lenny’s is a dive bar with a series of regulars ranging from all suitable drinking ages, and the owner, Emmett, has zero tolerance for violence in his bar. People don’t care though, and fights still break out over the stupidest shit with alcohol running through everyone’s system. Luke, the other male bartender, and I are constantly having to keep an eye on things. We try to avoid and stop those shitty situations, like what happened to Mia, but those things can slide under the radar.

“I can handle myself. It’s not like this will happen again. I barely go anywhere besides work anyway,” Mia explains.

“Yeah, but every time you do go out, it doesn’t end well,” Mateo counters. “You’re either the center of some sort of conflict, or you hole yourself up at home and refuse to go anywhere.”

“I said I can handle myself. I don’t need you telling me what to do,” Mia argues, her voice raising in volume, the skin on her chest exposed by her top is slowly reddening. She stands, the ice pack and blanket now on the floor. Mateo stands too and walks over to her in the living room.

This conversation no longer seems to just be about what happened tonight.

“Apparently, you do.” Mateo pinches the bridge of his nose and lets out an exhale before continuing. “You’re right, that asshole never should have touched you, but the way you reacted is not okay!” His volume now matches Mia’s.

“What am I supposed to do?” she cries. “Ignore him? Say thank you? Wait for someone to intervene? That’s not going to happen!

“No, that’s not what I’m saying. What does your therapist say? Is it normal how you go from zero to a hundred when you’re uncomfortable?”

She scoffs, “That’s none of your business.”

“Actually it is. I am your guardian, and I am responsible for you. Do you even tell her how bad your anxiety has gotten?”

“First of all, I am an adult. Second of all, what are you talking about? I’m fine! I haven’t had a panic attack in months. I’m going to my weekly sessions and taking my meds. Anxiety or not, that asshole at the bar deserved it.”

“Mia, you’re not fine! What kind of brother would I be if I just stopped caring about what you did when you turned eighteen. When I agreed to be your guardian, it was for life.” He looks down, shaking his head, before looking back at Mia. “You’re acting out. You’re losing friends. You’re not even using your degree. You refuse to pick up your camera. You won’t even talk about—”

“I said, I’m fine!” she counters, ignoring all of Mateo’s accusations and not letting him get to his last one.

“You’re not the one who died that night, yet I feel like I lost you all the same!” Mateo’s raised voice causes my skin to tingle with discomfort because he always keeps his cool. I can tell that another nerve of Mia’s has been hit.

And this was a bad one.

Is he talking about his parents? I know they died when she was young.

I step into the living room, not wanting to get between them because it’s none of my business, but I don’t want this to escalate any more than it already has. I feel my own protective instincts take over, the same way they would when my father would raise his voice at my mom.

I am positive that Mateo wouldneverhurt Mia, but I don’t want either of them to say or do something they might regret.

“Mia, Mateo,” I say softly, yet sternly, stepping between them. Mia looks like she was shot right through the chest. “It’s late,” I continue, “you guys are tired. Mateo, I think it’s time to go. Mia needs some rest. You guys can continue this conversation tomorrow.”

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