It's Only Fair Ch. 03

The cops did come, along with the ambulance. She had gotten a concussion along with other wounds. The neighbor had reported what had happened and since we were all still technically minors, no one got arrested. But I was shunned for the rest of school and even though I had not started it, I was still in the wrong (as per to majority of people) for hitting a girl. Her parents had tried to sue my parents but the case went nowhere and was eventually thrown out when it was proven that I had been long provoked into this. She eventually got better but she was no longer a pretty girl and her eyes looked on me with fear each time she saw me.

Other girls did the same. It was repeated often that 'Rick the Dick' had held his own against 3 assailants and laid out the girl in question with a single punch. No one fucked with me anymore, but in a way, I was even more alone. When high school ended I went to community college for a semester and then dropped out that time, having no interest in continuing school - even one filled with people who did not know me or my history. A social worker had counseled me for about 6 months after the incident, helping me to get through the trauma of my experiences and how to cope with the after effects of my one terribly sad fight.

Years later, I could still recall the way her face felt as I unloaded all my anger and fury in that point of contact; I could feel her flesh under my knuckles and her cartilage break. And no matter how many times I washed my hands when I thought of it, did I ever feel clean from the experience. I had made a promise to never hit anyone in anger again.

I blinked away my reverie and sighed. "Ma, I've got to run a few errands. Can you watch Amber for me for a couple of hours?"

She smiled, grabbing my free hand with hers and gripping it tight. "No problem, Rick. Go do what you've got to do."

I thanked her, gave both of them a kiss, and then left. I drove to the mall, walking in to Lenscrafters and getting a replacement pair of glasses. I then wandered around Sears a few minutes before heading out to get gas and lunch. I passed a Bank of America and turned around in the parking lot, driving up to the ATM. "Fuck it," I said to myself as I took out $400 and pocketed it. I know that it wasn't much, but it was a step. I looked at the balance on screen on all the accounts and noticed they were about where I expected them to be. Not sure why, but that made me feel marginally better.

I ended up back in Ronkonkoma at my mother's at 2:30 where I thanked her for watching my daughter and got another admonishment to "dump the bitch and soon" before hitting the Highway and returning home.

We came in to find Elle in the kitchen, slicing up a tomato as she was making a salad. "Hey!" she said in surprise. "Rick, you're home!" She put the knife down and walked towards me glassy eyed and smiling. "Have a nice day?"

"Yeah," I said, wondering what was up.

"I've got a laundry in, up in a sec." She scooted past me to the basement door and flipped the light on before going down. The spring hinge closed it quietly behind her.

"Mommy was acting weird, wasn't she?" I asked Amber, knowing she didn't understand me but happy to hear my voice. I walked her into her room and checked to see if she needed a fresh diaper. I heard my wife walking up the basement stairs, her tread sounding heavy for some reason. "Elle?" I called out. "Need help with the baskets?"

She didn't answer for a few seconds but I did hear the front door latch closed. "Elle?" I called out again, more of a question in my voice.

"What?" came her reply from inside.

"Nothing. I thought you left. Heard the front door close."

"It wasn't shut all the way. And no, I don't need help. It's only sheets."

I pulled Amber's pants back on, something niggling at the back of my consciousness. We came out into the kitchen where I saw the plastic laundry basket in the living room half filled with the sheets and pillow cases. She was wrapping up the salad and snapping the Tupperware lid in place, placing it in the fridge. "I wanted to know if you wanted pasta tonight?" she asked.

"Um...yeah. Is that what I'm cooking?"

Elle shook her head in small motions. "No, I've got it."

"Ok...thanks." Just great, we couldn't even talk to each other today. I sighed. "I'm going to take care of the wall."

She flinched as I said it, nodding her head. I walked out, heading to my garage where I opened the rolling door and went to my workbench. I picked up a fresh utility knife, two spackle knives, and some sandpaper. I grabbed my shop vac and started back for the house when I saw Stan coming from across the street, waving at me and holding a small green covered container of spackle.

"Hey, Rick," he called.

"Hey, Stan."

"You're going to need this," he said, offering me the one gallon bucket.

"Thanks. I think I still have some in the basement, but thanks." I jiggled the supplies to one arm and took the bucket from him.

"Nah. Don't think you do." He pulled his sweatshirt tighter across his shoulders and smiled.

"Say? How'd you know?"

He motioned with his chin to my front door. "A little while after you left, I stopped over to chat with Elle, see if I could find anything out for you. Got nothing new that you don't already know. Saw the walls." He glanced pointedly at my black eye. "Wanted to see for myself, you know? Make sure everything was ok."

I nodded. "Thanks, Stan." Something was once again niggling at the back of my thoughts but it was drowned by the seemingly ever present headache I had been suffering under. "You're a good friend." I turned back to the front door, "Let me get this going and I'll talk to you tomorrow, k?"

"No problem." He watched me go, only heading back across the street once I was inside.

My spackling job was not professional grade, but for a first coat, it more than sufficed. I stopped when Elle announced dinner and the three of us ate with slightly more conversation and ease than we had been having lately. It was after I gave Amber her bath and Elle and I were getting ready for bed that I turned to my wife and asked, "Are you, ok?"

She said nothing at first, crawling under the crisp clean sheets and pulling the blanket up to rest on her lap. "Well enough, Rick."

I climbed in next to her, picking up my book and lying there, staring at the ceiling. "We need some help, Elle."

I felt her get more comfortable, turning off her lamp. "There isn't any. It's just us."

I watched her as she faced me, her eyes dull and listless. "I know, Elle. But we can't have another weekend like this. We can't, one of us is going to get a stroke."

She said little, her eyes welling with tears. "I'm not sure what I can do anymore, Rick."

"We have to figure it out, Elle. Figure it out together."

She looked at me, her gaze empty, and then rolled over, facing the other way.

I eventually fell asleep, realizing that I had stared at the same paragraph of my book without reading it for the last ten minutes.