Page 75 of Aaron's Patience

“Aaron.” She came to me, tugging on my clenched fists. They were sealed so tightly my own fingernails had begun to dig into the palms of my hands.

Animalistic.

That was the only way to describe what I was feeling. My family had been in danger and I was nowhere around to protect them.

“Aaron, it was just a night–”

“Don’t.” It came out on a whisper but it still echoed around the kitchen. “Don’t downplay this.”

“I’m not,” she defended. “I-I’m just saying don’t feel whatever it is you’re feeling right now. I can see it in your eyes. You’re blaming yourself. It wasn’t your fault.”

“Who’s fault was it then? I should've–” I stopped, my fist going into wooden overhead cabinet. I heard Patience gasp. I pulled my fist back, seeing the blood from the impact and then the dent in the cabinet but not feeling the pain.

“No!” she yelped, grabbing my arm as I went to punch the cabinet again.

“You need to go to bed.”

She shook her head. “No.”

“Patience—”

“No! Come with me.” She pulled at my arm.

“I’m not going to do anything rash.”

“Then come to bed with me. Please…I need you.”

I grunted, but bent low to pick her up in my arms.

“I can walk.”

“So?”

She folded her arms around my neck and laid her head on my shoulder as we ascended the stairs. I carried her into our bedroom and laid her on her side of the bed.

“We need to clean your hand and put some ice on it.”

“In the morning.” I knew my hand would be throbbing by the morning but I had no intention of worrying about it until then. Patience snuggled into my side, resting her head on my chest. She moved, wrapping my arm around her, until I squeezed her waist into me. Even being in this position that always seemed to calm the jarred edges of my emotions, wasn’t enough that night. By the time I heard my wife’s soft snores I had already formed a plan in my head on how I was going to handle this. I knew the first person I needed to see. She assuredly would be liking this visit with me even less than our last one.

****

“Arrgghhh!” I grunted as I threw the wooden chair Alicia had just been strapped to against the concrete wall, shattering it into large pieces. I was so fucking tempted to pick one of those boards up and end her life with it.

“Aaron, stop! Please!”

Her cries had zero effect on me, unlike my wife when she spoke the same words the night before.

“Why are you doing this?” she begged to know.

I came to stand before her as she slouched on the floor, dressed in a pair of dark sweatpants and an old Williamsport University T-shirt. It was a far cry from her much more glamorous days, growing up as the daughter of a supposed oil tycoon. But her outfit was overshadowed by the large purple bruise and busted lip that marred her face. The marks hadn’t been courtesy of me but I’d called in some favors.

“Why have you brought me here?”

“You couldn’t leave well enough the fuck alone, could you, Alicia? Answer me!” I yelled when she didn’t speak.

“I-I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Patience! My children. It’s one thing to send her away and not tell me about it. It’s a whole different animal when you have my family attacked!” I snatched her up by her shoulders, shaking her. I was fighting hard to keep a grip on reality but the part of me that wanted to end her and be done with it was close to winning out.