Lately, life was feast or famine. I would get my brains screwed out for a weekend, then do without for two weeks. The previous weekend had followed the same pattern, with my life full of wonderful women, then from Monday night through Thursday I was a single man again.
I had been working hard to finish moving my belongings from the apartment into the house, while Debbie had been supervising some work done around the house. Karen was still planning on waiting until the end of the month to move in, and was still working. We’d brought in a flooring contractor to repair the living room floor, and to install some inexpensive carpeting upstairs. She’d also managed to get our gas, water, and phone service turned on, after getting the city inspections completed. She was turning out to be an administrative wiz. We’d hoped to get some painting done, but had been too busy with the move, and inspection paperwork. We were looking at a weekend of painting coming up, which should make the house pretty much complete for move in.
Of course just when things seemed to start running smoothly, somehow, somewhere, things would always get interesting.
* * * *
I was packing the last of my boxes into a borrowed truck, when the phone rang.
“You’re dime – go ahead.”
“Jack. John’s here at the house. He just drove up. Could you please come over, I don’t want to see him.” Debbie sounded nervous.
It took me a minute to place John; her ex- that she’d left about 6 weeks earlier. “I’m only 5 minutes away. I’ll leave now.” I told her.
“Thanks. Please hurry.” She sounded really distressed.
I didn’t bother to answer. I headed straight to the car, and took off for the house. I made good time, the advantage of having a sports car and little respect for speed limits and lights.
I pulled up in front, and found Debbie’s old Escort parked there. An Explorer with dealer plates had pulled in behind it. The front door to the house was wide open.
I entered the house, into the middle of a mess.
John was a lanky guy, I’d call him scrawny, but I’m trying to be generous here. He had dirty brown hair, cut short, and was standing in Debbie’s face yelling at her. Both the little girls were there, crying to one side. Debbie tried to say something, and he hit the wall next to her head, telling her to shut up, or she’d be sorry.
I was about to announce my presence, and try to defuse the situation, when Debbie’s little one, Erin, ran up to John and grabbed at his shirt.
“Don’t hit my mommy! Don’t hit my mommy!” She was hysterical, screaming at him.
He reached down and pushed her away by the face, hard, and she landed on her rear against the near wall.
I’m not some kind of super-hero, out to right all wrongs. And I had been willing to talk things out, in spite of the way he’d been up in Debbie’s face. But this was too much for me. Pushing around 6 year olds was well over the line as far as I was concerned.
I walked up beside him, and hit him as hard as I could, just under the ear.
Now I’m just over six-one, two-twenty. I probably weighed half again as much as he did, and I don’t think he ever saw it coming. He dropped like a rock. Debbie scrambled away, twisting sideways, sliding along the wall and never turning her back on the guy.
I watched him, and saw him reaching into his back pocket. I didn’t know what he was looking for. I doubted he had a gun or anything, but I wouldn’t have put a knife past him. So I committed the cardinal sin of fair play and hit a guy while he was down. More precisely, I kicked him. I kicked him in the side just at the bottom of his ribs, and he rolled up into a ball with a grunt. An oversized folding blade fell out of his pocket, and I reached my foot out and kicked it across the room.
I walked to Erin, who was on the ground sobbing, and lifted her to her feet.
“Erin, you and Ashley go in the kitchen and close the door. Uncle Jack is going to have a talk with this bad man. He won’t hit your mommy.” I guided her towards Ashley, who was huddled in a corner, and the two of them walked hand-in-hand into the kitchen.
John had rolled to his knees, and looked to be considering getting up.
“Don’t get up dick-head.” I warned him, stepping between him and Debbie.
“Who the fuck are you. You are really fucked now, you know? You are FUCKED.” He was talking tough for a guy sitting on his ass, huffing and puffing, while malevolently looking up at me.
“You are in my house. You are not welcome here. You’re going to get the hell out of here, and we’re never going to see you again.” I spoke calmly and slowly.
“Wrong. Fuck you. This bitch is going with me.” He raised himself onto one knee, and I was pretty sure he was looking to try to jump me.
“I don’t think so.” I stood, waiting, weight on the balls of my feet.
He was predictable. He jumped forward straight at me. I wasn’t particularly worried. Growing up, I’d moved a lot, and in the world of juvenile manhood, one of the rites of friendship was fighting. As the new guy, I was always getting in fights. Competing in a variety of sports didn’t help; I was ejected from more than one game for brawling. Then, during the first two years of college, I’d been in ROTC, doing the two-and-screw, and got some more formalized training in defending myself. I could protect myself.
I stepped into him, confident in the advantage my eighty pounds of weight gave me in this battle. He wasn’t able to fully stand up, and was still bent over when my outstretched arms pulled him forward and down. He stumbled and forward, and I delivered a pretty mean kick to his forehead, snapping his head back. I dropped on his back, grabbing his hair, and gave him a rabbit punch. Only after I had hit him did I realize he was not resisting.
Fight over.
I grabbed the back of his shirt, and dragged him out the door and to the front of his car. Sometime while I was dragging him across the gravel walk, the cobwebs must have started to lift, and he squirmed a bit at the end. I flung him against the side of his vehicle.
“Just be smart and get out of here. Don’t let me see you again.” I told him. I was really pissed, and was looking for him to talk back, so I could deliver more punishment.
He did a pretty smart thing. He pulled himself up by the door handle, got back in his SUV, and got his keys in the ignition before he spoke.
“You’re dead. I’ll be back, and you are FUCKED.” He drove off, leaving the threat hanging in his wake.
Back in the house, Debbie didn’t speak of the matter as we calmed the kids, and bundled them into her car. We took them back to Karen’s and I called Karen to get her to come home.
“You know he’ll be back. Maybe I should just go with him. He’s going to be so angry if he has to come for me again.” Debbie said sitting back in the couch, holding herself in a ball and rocking back and forth.
She had stood up so well, with the kids around, until we’d settled them down in their room, working on some crafts. Then she just fell apart.
I wanted so badly to go to her, to take her in my arms, to comfort her. But I wasn’t sure I was welcome. I didn’t know what to do about her. But I did have an idea about what could be done about John.
“No. That’s not the answer.” I told her.
“He’ll be back. He’ll bring a bunch of his friends, and they’ll beat you up. And then he’ll beat me up. Then I’m sure I’ll have to pay him and his friends back for causing this trouble.”