Page 66 of Unbearable

“You useless piece of shit,” Red grumbles and then turns his attention to me. “Knock it off!”

I push him back, the adrenaline feeding my strength and I easily knock him aside. I want back at Rawley. He spits blood on the concrete floor. “That’s all you got?” he taunts, standing now.

I do the same only to have Red pin me to the wall, his forearm pressing into my throat. “Get the fuck off me!” I shove him back.

He stumbles and comes back at me just as strong. “No. What’s going on?”

My wild eyes dart around the shop, never landing on anyone. My heart pumps so loud I can hear it in my ears. My body shakes as I say, “Why don’t you ask your fucking brother and his big fucking mouth what’s wrong.”

I can hear Rawley popping off with shit, kicking tools and yelling at me.

“I’m not asking him. I’m asking you what’s going on.”

There’s a crash behind me. Rawley’s kicked over my tool cart. Red twists, his attention on the noise when Rawley takes the tool cart, picks it up over his head and throws it. It lands on the windshield of a customer’s car.

Dead silence follows and we all look to Red.

“What the fuck?” Red screams, his blistering voice echoing throughout the shop. You could have heard that across the street. I’ve never seen Red so pissed in my life as he steps toward Rawley. “You stupid son of a bitch! Why would you do that?”

Rawley spits blood at him throwing his hands up in the air to flip his brother, or me, off. “Fuck you! I quit.”

“HOLYHELLWHAT was that?” Lenny asks, stepping inside my apartment, her eyes wide and voice a tad frantic.

“Get out, Lenny, just fucking go,” I grumble, opening the freezer to look for an ice pack. My left eye is already swelling shut. I’ll hand it to Rawley, he can most certainly throw a punch. Or twelve. “I don’t want to be around anybody right now.

She crosses her arms over her chest. I glance at her standing in my kitchen. She’s trying to be nice and give me someone to vent to. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what’s going on.”

“I’m not asking, I’m telling you.” I slam the freezer. “Get the fuck out.”

My harsh words do nothing. She plops herself on the couch in the living room. “Nope. Not happening. Talk to me.”

“I’m not talking to you.”

“I got all night,” she warns, putting her feet up on the coffee table.

Grabbing the new bottle of whiskey I bought last night, I sit down at the table with a wet towel.

Lenny stands, walks into my kitchen and opens the freezer and takes out the ice pack I never got out. Sitting down next to me, she pushes it toward me. “Put that on your face. You look horrible.”

For ten minutes, I drink about six shots and clean my bloody face off. All the while, Lenny doesn’t leave. Instead, I assume she sends a text to Red because I see his picture pop up on her screen several times.

“Did you know you’re like the brother I never had?” she asks on minute eleven.

I don’t say anything at all. I don’t even look at her and do another shot.

“When I called you, crying, on my own, you didn’t hesitate to help me.”

Another shot.

“I’m not walking away from you because something huge is happening with you and you need someone who’s not going to judge you.”

Two more shots. Swallowing over the burn, I slouch in the chair, my body and face so sore every expression hurts.

“I can sit here all night,” she repeats.

Around the time I can’t feel my face any longer, I begin talking, my voice so low I know she has to struggle to hear me. With my stare on my blood-soaked knuckles, I twist the cap to the whiskey in my hand. “I’m gonna tell you a story.” She nods so I continue, “There was this guy once… he was out partying with his friends when he meets this girl. Fucking beautiful girl with long legs, flawless tan skin and jet-black hair. She was the bartender and you know women bartenders, they flirt their way to tips. He didn’t think much of it, or her flirting until he met her again six months later when she brought her car by to get fixed. Being a bartender in a small town, she couldn’t afford a new engine in the car so the guy, the one from the bar, offered to fix it for free if she let him take her out. She agreed and five years later, they moved in together. He thought what they had was real.

“One day, she gets pregnant, and they’re happy, or so he thought.” I sit forward again, taking one more shot, flinching at the burn it leaves on my open lip. “I mean”—I wipe my mouth once more with the towel when I taste blood, ignoring my ringing phone in my pocket—“he was in love with her, of course he wanted to start a family with her. And then she lost the baby, miscarried. To make her feel better, and knowing he wants to spend the rest of his life with her, he buys a ring. He goes over what he wants to say for days and when he’s ready to do it, he comes home from work to find that she’s moved out. No reasoning. Just that she wants to find herself. He thinks about it, maybe she’s right. Maybe she just needs some time. So he holds onto the ring thinking maybe she might come around after a few days.

---