Just Be True To Me

“You said you have a lot of pent up anger. We need to get that out of you.”

“I’m fine. I’m over it,” she said.

He picked up his phone. A few seconds later, he showed her the screen, Darren’s Facebook profile on display. His thumb hovered over the friend button. “If you’re over it then you can have a civilized lunch with him.”

“I can have lunch with him.”

He hunched his shoulders. “Okay.”

She moved too late to stop him from pressing the button. His arms were too long, preventing her from reaching the phone. Her pleads were ignored. Her eyes widened with horror as she watched him type the message. Again, there was no stopping him.

“Done.”

“Why did you do that? I don’t want to have lunch with him.” Throwing herself onto the pile on clothes, she combed her fingers through her hair, letting out an exasperated breath. Her anger welled up the longer she thought about his face.

His features were still clear in her mind. Darren Houghton was the worst of all men. Good looking, smart, eloquent in speech and appearance. He was knowledgeable in a lot of subjects, meaning that he could blend in with any crowd. This knowledge also made him think that he was better than most of the people he came across. The packaging was spectacular.

But as the saying goes, if something looks too good to be true, it usually is.

Underneath the shiny exterior was an insecure child. Having been bullied when he was younger, his bravado was a way of keeping those feelings at bay. This surfaced as an incomprehensible need to control others.

Mia remembered not being able to take a shower or go to the restroom without permission. She remembered the precise portions he fed her, habit still causing her to sometimes eat at the times he required when they were together.

“Cancel it.”

“I already made a reservation,” Clifford said.

“I don’t care. I don’t want to see him. Cancel it.”

“There it is. The anger. You need to let it out Mia. It’s holding you back.”

Nothing made her more angry than someone telling her she how she felt. “I’m not angry. I’m over it. I haven’t thought about that son of a…that man in years. And I wouldn’t have at all if it wasn’t for you.” Climbing off the couch, she took the five steps to the door. “I think you should leave.”

“I’m not going anywhere.”

“You can’t be in my house when I don’t want you here.” She swallowed the threat to call the police. “I can get rid of this stuff myself.”

“You’re not supposed to push your boyfriend away.”

“You’re not my boyfriend. We’re not in a relationship.” She turned the lock. The door remained in place after she yanked it. She turned the lock again. The same thing resulted after she tried opening it.

“Anger clouds your judgement.” Clifford was careful in grabbing her shoulders. “You’ll never reach your full potential if you don’t let it go. You need to get it out of your system.”

She stepped past him, walking around the island four times, unable to get away from the discomfort. “How would you know? You haven’t been with a woman long enough to get your heart broken. You’re just like him. You present yourself as Prince fu*king Charming and once you get us you turn into a fu*king monster. Would you please just leave. I don’t even want to think about this anymore.”

Clifford took off his undershirt. Stepping out of his pants, he fought to get a pair of her shorts to his waist.

Mia couldn’t help but laugh at how silly he looked. “What are you doing?”

“I want you to take your anger out on me. You said I was just like Darren, then do to me what you want to do to him.”

“I’m not fighting you while you have my shorts on. They’re struggling to stay on you.”

“This is what MMA fighters wear.” A swift wiggle of the hips as he spoke. “It works for them.” He assumed a fighting stance and said, “At the very least you’ll learn some new moves. Come on, let me help you. And by the way, I do know what it’s like to get my heart broken.”

The trust she had for him brought her into the space. She slipped off her socks and removed her shirt, replacing the tights she was wearing with a pair of basketball shorts. She then assumed an orthodox stance. “Wait, we need ground rules. No hitting in the face.”

“No hitting period.”

“Three taps and you’re out?”

“Agreed.” Without warning, he swept her off her feet. On top of her, he pinned her arms to the ground. “That was way too easy. Maybe you’re not that angry. Maybe he didn’t hurt you that bad.” He applied all of his weight to her chest. “Women tend to overdramatize things. They also like to switch things. Maybe you’re the one who hurt him.”

“No.” Adrenaline rushed through Mia’s veins. Her sweat allowed her to release her right hand. A couple of pokes to his side allowed her to slide from underneath him. A perfect form tackle sent Clifford to his back. Scrambling on top of him, she pinned his arms above his head. “I ain’t do sh*t but give him respect and love. I never cheated. I never hit him.”

“Wha—”

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”

The anger blinded Mia to what she was doing, only the feeling of blood brought her back as she realized she’d somehow landed a blow on Clifford’s face.

She bolted to her feet. “I am so sorry Clifford.”

“It’s okay,” he said, tilting his head back.

She came back with a towel, guiding his head forward. “Leaning back causes the blood to flow into your throat.” She continued apologizing. “It’s not broken is it?”

The towel muffled his answer. A huff slipped from his chest after he pulled himself onto the couch. He laughed. “Bet you’re not angry anymore.”

She giggled. Sitting next to him, she rested her head on his shoulder and apologized. “I didn’t know I still had all that in me.”

***

Clifford grew quiet. Her confession was playing on full volume in his mind.

I didn’t hit him. I didn’t hit him. I didn’t hit him.

He looked for evidence as he glanced in her direction.