Page 3 of Double Dirty
“I think if you’d come here and just ordered tea or a salad, I’d tell you to have some protein so you could get stronger for self-defense purposes,” I said.
“The bacon ought to take care of that. Bacon makes you strong, right? Or was that spinach?” she joked.
“I think it’s kale,” I said.
“I hate kale. My supervisor at work makes kale chips at home and brings them in to share like it’s some big treat. I want to know who the joker is who came up with that idea. Like how about we bake some lettuce and see if anybody eats it?” she said.
I laughed. She was funny. I told her how I got interested in teaching self-defense as our food arrived. Lexi nodded along with my story while taking a huge bite out of her burger. I snatched a salty fry before she could protest with her mouth full.
“You know that’s why I want to learn that nose strike from class. So I can take down anyone who tries to steal my fries.”
“You’re pretty protective of your carbs.”
“Yeah, don’t try to talk keto around me. I love potatoes. And bread.”
“Relax, I’m not trying to take away your starches.”
“You’re a personal trainer. I figured you’d be all serious about the protein powder and the super foods.”
“Hello. I’m eating pie,” I said, pointing to my plate.
“Maybe you’re trying to lure me in with bait and switch. Tell me I can eat pie anytime I want as long as I follow the workouts, and then once I’ve signed up for a zillion training sessions you tell me I can only have raw blueberries and spelt.”
“Spelt?”
“Yeah, it’s a type of flour used for bread. I saw it on TV. It sounded healthy and boring.”
“I’m not trying to get you to sign up for anything, don’t worry. I just think in my line of work it’s better to be safe than sorry. I wanted to check with you and see what motivated you to come to the class tonight.”
“It’s a situation over at work. It’s been difficult before, but it got a little intense today. I thought, like you said, better safe than sorry.”
“Is there anyone you can talk to at work? Get you out of the situation?”
“Not really. I spoke with my supervisor. She’s great, but we’re understaffed to begin with, and now one of the other workers is out on maternity leave, so we’re spread pretty thin. I can’t just pile my case on a coworker.”
“Are you a doctor? A PA?”
“Social worker. I love my job, don’t get me wrong. I just—”
“I imagine you deal with all kinds of people. Some better than others.”
“Yeah, just like in any job, except it’s high stress to begin with, because I work for the agency that took away their kids. So, it’s hard not to be seen as the enemy.”
“So, is this a parent?”
“I can’t really discuss it. Privacy laws,” she said, taking a sip of water.
“Okay, so I’ll ask the right questions, and you can just say yes or no. Did someone threaten you with physical harm?”
“Yes.”
“Shit. Okay. That’s a pretty clear danger. Are we talking direct threat? The person said he or she would do something physical to you?”
“Yes. Beat my ass,” she supplied, eating a fry. She was trying to say it wryly, like it was a funny story, but her hand trembled a little.
I wanted to hold her.
But that would be very unprofessional. Nothing I would ever consider doing. Why had I even thought of it? The way she looked at me so determined to be calm, to seem okay. I wanted to tell her she didn’t have to act so strong, that it was okay to be scared and ask for help. I wanted to tell her that her supervisor should do something to keep her safe. Like possibly shoot the guy in both of his goddamn legs.