Marcie and Leo Ch. 078

It was close to the weekend. I was looking out the window towards Aubrey's place and I saw the bag. The readers familiar with me know that Aubrey's house used to be mine back before Marcie and I lost our spouses. My late wife, Missy, and I built that house soon after the company Matt and I started had been making more money. The house itself was a two bedroom and reflected our sensibilities at the time. One of the reasons we had a place for the bag was because it gave me the opportunity to expel that negative energy before I walked into the house to see my wife. Back then, it was needful that I did that.

Years later, the need was not as great. It was a combination of things. One event was when my wife was diagnosed with breast cancer. It was difficult to think about being angry when your wife was going through the fight of her life. Sadly, she lost the battle. It was after she passed that the bag became a fixture in my life again. I wallowed in self-pity during the month after. Every time I was angry, I was on the bag like it owed me. That first month without Missy was pure hell.

That was except for the moments that Marcie came over. Marcie, being a loving neighbor back then, would check on me almost daily. While her husband, Mitchell, was fighting his battle with cancer, she would take a little time each day to check on me. We were just friends back then. She encouraged me to do something besides hitting that bag. Whether it was just to get up and make food or clean a room, she always motivated me to do something. Still the bag hung there waiting.

When Marcie lost her husband, I would walk by it to check on her. There were times she wouldn't answer the door because of her grief. Marcie tended to stay in a bubble some days. It was a coping mechanism she had even before Mitchell was diagnosed. It was those days I would find the door locked and a note was in the window giving me a signal. I tended to hit the bag those days. I think it was partly because it was unfair that the loves of our lives were taken from us the way they were. Life was being unfair, and the bag took my rage.

It was a month after when Marcie seduced me. (Good Neighbors Ch. 1) The bag became a secret in broad daylight after that. I changed to hit the bag I had stored in the basement of the office building. I was afraid of what Marcie would have done if she knew. I had nothing to fear, I discovered when she revealed to me that Missy told her. She even shared how Mitchell would come home with the scars due to his anger issues. It was then she made me promise never to hit the bag again without gloves on. There had been one incident when I didn't. I never touch the bag anymore it seems. Yet, it hangs there. It's like a monument to my past life.

That's when the thought hit me. Why do I want to let it stay there? It was then I saw a sight I almost never thought I would. I watched as Aubrey's husband was walking towards it. He had an intense look on his face. I didn't need to be Einstein to see where he was headed. I went into the kitchen where Marcie stored my gloves to grab them. She was working on her tablet at the dining room table.

"Leo, are you okay?"

"Yes, Sweetheart. I'm going to go see Wes."

"But you are grabbing the gloves."

I motioned towards the window. As I slipped my shoes on, she walked over and wrapped her arms around me before she kissed me. She then smiled before she opened the door. I walked towards the bag calmly as I saw We start to hit the bag. It was less of a workout pace and more of an angry hit. I felt the hits as I watched. It was about five minutes of me standing a little off before he turned and saw me.

"It's not working," he said.

"Tell me about it," I answered.

He looked at me.

"I can't."

"Work related?" I asked.

He looked at me and shook his head.

"Family related?"

He nodded.

"Here or home?"

He paused.

"Aubrey?"

He shook his head. I walked closer.

"Take a breath."

I saw him take a deep breath and breathe out before I continued.

"It's not meant to solve the problem. It's meant to expel the energy to keep it from affecting the ones we care about."

He looked at me.

"I understand that. It's not working."

"Are you hitting the bag or the problem?"

He looked at me.

"The bag."

"That's why. Is the bag the problem?"

"No, that's silly."

"That's why it's not working. Now get in your stance."

He looked at me funny before he did. I pointed toward a spot on the bag.

"This is where I want you to hit. This is where you are going to focus your angry energy as you hit. Every hit is going to take a bit of the anger out. You are not hitting a bag. You are chipping away at the problem. Now hit it."

I watched him strike. I could see the look of realization cross his face as he took a second shot. Then a third. I stood there watching, not saying a word as he poured his anger through his fists into the bag. It was a few minutes before he started to waver. I then saw Aubrey walking out with a bottle of water and a towel. I looked in her direction, which gave Wes the signal to pull back.

"How do you feel?" I asked him.

"Better. Is this how it worked for you?'

"Kind of. Mine worked differently."

"Then how..." he started to ask before Aubrey handed him the water.

She looked at him. It was partially a look of love mixed with concern and pride.

"You sound better," she said.

"I'm sorry," he answered.

I started to walk backwards before they looked at me.

"You," Aubrey said almost accusingly.

"What? I saw him out here and walked out to talk to him."

She pointed towards the spot I pointed out on the bag.

"What was this then?"

"A focal point."

She looked at me with that questioning look.

"What's that mean?"

"If he is going to let his anger out, it needs to focus on one spot. That's when I pointed out a focal point. To help him focus so it was not just wild hits."

She paused for a moment.

"So, this wasn't your idea."

I shook my head.

"I would never tell anyone to do this. This was my therapy. I saw Wes out here and was coming to talk to him."

"I am glad he did. Initially, the hits weren't hitting right," Wes chimed in.

"So how are you feeling now?" Aubrey asked.

"Can we talk about it in the house, please?" Wes asked.

Aubrey smiled.

"I'll meet you there, Babe."

Wes started walking towards the house before Aubrey looked at me. She then hugged me.

"I like this new Leo. He makes more sense and he's not brooding. Plus, he knows what to say."

I smiled.

"Is Wes going to be okay?"

"He'll be fine. Thank you for not trying to preach to him."

As she walked back to her house, I turned and walked back to mine. Marcie was waiting. I slipped into her arms before she noticed the gloves still in my hand.

"So, he needed a coach?"

I kissed her forehead.

"He needed focus. I just gave him the target. He's doing better."

She hugged me again before one of her hands slipped down to pinch my butt. I smiled bigger before going into the kitchen for water. I never thought I'd see the day that my personal memorial to my anger would help someone else to find their solution. I guess there is a purpose to some things after all.