Debbie

I grabbed a handful of the bar nuts and shoved them into my mouth. I knew they were fresh having seen Davey, the bartender just put them out in front of us right before we sat down. Normally I steered clear of the bar nuts because I was unable to get the image out of my head of people going to the restroom, not washing their hands, and then sticking their grimy fingers into the bowl of nuts. It probably didn’t happen that often, but I was a bit paranoid about things like that.

After the fight at the bull riding competition Paul and I decided to grab a beer at a local bar before driving home. We thought about inviting the rest of the gang but Paul and I both just wanted to be alone together for a bit.

Although, he wasn’t saying it, I knew that Paul was beyond devastated. He was pretty good at hiding his emotions but I was getting good at deciphering the hidden meaning behind some of his behaviors when he was upset. He was very quiet and when I tried to talk to him he gave very short, almost non-responsive answers.

I knew he was beating himself up about what happened and I wished to hell he hadn’t done it. Chip was being a jerk but I knew how to deal with jerks. Growing up in those parts a girl learned quickly how to handle guys like that. I was fine.

But it was very sweet the way Paul came to my rescue. It was nice knowing that if I ever needed it I was safe and protected. I felt so secure with Paul. I knew that as long as I was with him no harm would ever come to me.

I don’t think I’d ever felt that way with Daniel or anyone else.

Paul took a sip of his beer and looked over at me. I could see the disappointment and sadness in his eyes.

“Are you ok?” Paul asked.

I smiled. “Yeah, I’m just fine. I was about two seconds away from slapping Chip silly though. You beat me to it.”

“Sorry. I didn’t want to take that satisfaction away from you,” Paul said.

“Did it feel good? To beat in that jerk’s face?” I asked.

It had been fun to watch. I’d never really enjoyed violence, in fact, it scared the crap out of me to see a fight, but I had enjoyed that.

“Yeah,” Paul said. “It did. Totally worth it.”

I ordered myself a beer and when the bartender brought the bottle I wrapped my fingers around the bottle, just feeling the cool of the glass, but not really in the mood to drink it. My thoughts were a bit muddled since the fight. I wasn’t sure what to think or what to say. I didn’t know if there was a way to actually help Paul feel better. I knew he was hurting badly. He’d wanted this so much and it had meant the world to him right now, but it seemed that the universe had other plans for him.

“What are you going to do now?” I asked.

“What do you mean?” Paul replied.

“Well, are you going to throw yourself furiously back into your book? Are you going to get another job? I was just curious what your plans are?”

Paul smiled. “Maybe I’ll take a few weeks and just wallow in my pity.”

I laughed. “I doubt that is going to happen. It isn’t your style.”

“How do you know exactly what my style is?”

“Oh, I think I know you well enough now,” I said.

Paul took a swig of his beer and sighed.

“Yeah, I’m not sure right now,” Paul replied seriously. “It’s easy for a setback like this to just take the wind right out of your sails.”

“Yeah, but you just have to get back in there and keep trying,” I said.

We sat there in silence for a few moments and then my mind started wandering to some things about Paul that he had never seemed to want to share too much with me. It might have been poor timing on my part, but I decided to probe a bit about it anyway.

“So, how much trouble is your family’s farm in?” I asked.

Paul looked at me with sadness in his eyes.

“I’m not really sure, but I think it’s in bad shape. There have been some rough patches along the years, but I’d say the past few have been pretty devastating. For the independent, small farmer things are tougher than they’ve ever been. It’s almost impossible to stay afloat and compete with the commercial boys. But my mom and dad have given it a great go. I just wish they would talk to me more about it.”

“They are trying to protect you,” I said.

“I know, but I feel like it’s my turn to protect them for a change. My dad’s getting on in years. He is always stressed out, still works fourteen hour days, and his health isn’t the greatest. He never complains or talks much about it of course, but I can tell. In fact, I felt really guilty about leaving when I did. But both of my parents insisted that I should go and they would be ok. If I’d hung around they would still be insisting because they thought it would interfere with my happiness and my dreams for me to stay.”

I could hear the sadness in Paul’s voice and it was kind of heartbreaking. It was easy to see that he really loved his family and that he wanted to do anything he could to help them.

“Damn,” Paul said. “I really had a good shot at that prize money.”

“Yeah, you did,” I said. “But you are resilient and resourceful. I know you will find a way to help your family.”

Paul reached over and held my hand in his.

“Thanks,” he said.

“For what?”

“For always being there for me,” Paul replied.

“Always,” I said.

We sat there in silence for a few moments just enjoying being with one another. It was nice to have that kind of support on both sides. I wanted Paul to know that I’d always be there to support him in any way I could and I felt that from him as well. It was then I realized that the way Paul and I were with each other was very much the same kind of bond and connection that my parents had. There was a love between the two of us that I felt could weather anything.

“Well, look what we have here,” the voice boomed from behind us.

Before I turned to look at who the voice belonged to somehow I knew who it was. I felt my guts tense up and a bit of nausea rise up in me a moment later. My heart started beating faster, thumping in my chest. I knew that this was not going to end well. Trouble had found us.

I turned my head back towards the voice and my eyes confirmed what I’d suspected. Standing there in the doorway was Chip Mathews and one of his goofy looking friends. They both looked like they were already drunk before they even got to that bar.

Paul was glaring at Chip. I could see his whole body going rigid as his fight or flight response kicked in. His fists were clenching and unclenching and for a moment I thought he might grab the beer he had just sat down and hurl it at Chip.

“If it isn’t the guy who cost me one hundred thousand dollars,” Chip said as he and his friend sauntered towards us.

“Why don’t you jerks drink somewhere else? We don’t need any more trouble,” I said hoping to deescalate the situation or at least hoping that the bartender would hear that there might be an issue and get over there to diffuse things before they got out of hand.

“Oh, I think we like it here,” Chip said. “Right Randy?”

His buddy, Randy, nodded. “Yeah, we love the… um, atmosphere.”

“Come on,” I said to Paul. “Let’s go.”

Paul didn’t answer and he didn’t move. I had a feeling he was going to stand his ground and if either one of these guys so much as looked at him cross eyed they were going to get hurt.

But it was two on one. Those were not the kinds of odds I wanted Paul to gamble with. He was a tough guy, but no one could realistically fight two people at once.

“Paul,” I urged. “Please…”

Paul glanced at me. I saw rage in his eyes.

“Yeah, Paul,” Chip mocked me. “Please…”

Randy laughed.

“Piss off, dipshit,” Paul said. “Didn’t you learn your lesson the first time? Nice shiner you got there.”

It was the first time I’d realized in the dimly lit bar that Chip had a big black eye where Paul had punched him earlier. A feeling of strange pride rose up in me. I was glad the jerk had been leveled.

Chip’s eyes flashed with rage as he came closer. He and Randy both were towering over us now.

He spoke in a low growl. “You think a lucky punch with leather gloves makes you somebody? Get up and I’ll show you how lucky you were earlier.”

Randy chuckled. “Hey, isn’t this the girl you were telling me about? Wow, she is something else. You weren’t kidding.”

I wanted to slap the taste out of his mouth. Chip had figured out I was Paul’s trigger. He would never stand for anyone talking to me that way. This was going to get ugly and I didn’t know if there was a way I could stop it.

But I tried anyway.

“Let’s leave, Paul. This is a waste of time,” I pleaded.

But Paul was hearing none of it.

In a flash he was on his feet and swinging a hard right hand connecting with Randy’s mouth.

Randy staggered back holding his now bloody lip. It was a solid punch and I was surprised he was still standing and hadn’t lost any teeth from it.

Chip was on Paul instantly wrestling him back against the bar and landing some body punches that smacked against Paul’s already tender ribs with some sickening smacks.

“Stop it!” I screamed.

I was looking around frantic for someone to intervene. I was afraid to step in to a brawl with these three large men. I was guaranteed to get hurt or distract Paul who might get hurt worse because of it. It would accomplish nothing. I needed help.

“Hey!” Davey, the bartender yelled running over to the fight.

Paul lowered his body and threw himself into Chip staggering him backwards to get enough room for Paul to swing a couple upper cuts. One connected hard and sent Chip falling to the floor.

But Randy was on his feet throwing a flurry of punches hitting Paul in the face and the back of the head. As Paul stumbled to the floor, Randy grabbed him by the arms and jerked him to his feet, pinning his arms behind him as Chip staggered to his feet.

“No!” I yelled knowing what was about to happen.

Paul struggled against Randy’s grip while Chip began to throw punches into his face and body.

Luckily Davey and a few other guys arrived to break things up just then pinning Chip and Randy to a table and the bar respectively while someone else called the cops.

“He’s got a knife!” Randy yelled.

Knife? Who had a knife?

I saw the switchblade hit the ground and pop open right beside Paul who had just slumped to the ground a second before Davey grabbed Chip and pushed him back. There was a knife. A deadly weapon. And Randy had yelled that Paul had it? My mind was trying to process what was happening in the middle of this crazy brawl that now involved several people trying to break it up. Surely they’d seen that Randy threw that knife on the ground, right? There was no way that anyone would ever believe Paul had the knife… or would they? Jesus… a sinking feeling permeated through my guts and I felt like I might fall to the ground in a faint. My legs were getting wobbly and the room was starting to spin.

They were trying to frame Paul for attempted murder.

That was exactly what this would look like to anyone who did not see the whole fight. Even if they had security cameras in the bar, it was so dark that it would be hard to see where the knife actually came from, if the camera picked it up at all.

Chip and Randy continued yelling and struggling, screaming obscenities, and threatening to kill Paul, who was leaning against the bar trying to recover from the pummeling he’d just received.

“Oh, my God! Honey, are you ok?” I asked Paul.

He nodded and slumped down on a stool. After a minute I could get a better read on him and I could see he was going to be ok after all. It was a good thing that the fight had been broken up when it had; there was no way he could have taken much more without serious injury.

“We need to get you to the hospital to get you checked out,” I said. I thought he would be fine, but just in case.

“No, I’m ok,” Paul said. “It doesn’t feel like anything is broken. I just want to go home.”

“That’s out of the question,” Davey said. “The cops take fighting in public very serious around here, especially since a weapon was involved. You will probably have to see the judge Monday.”

“What? What weapon? What are you talking about?” Paul asked. He still didn’t know.

Davey pointed to the knife on the ground.

Paul’s eyes went wide with fear.

“When did they pull that?” Paul asked.

“From what I  heard, they said it was yours,” Davey replied.

“What? No way,” Paul said. “That’s not my knife. I don’t even own a switchblade.”

“You’ll have to tell all that to the cops,” Davey said.

“It’s just a bar fight. These things happen. I never even saw a knife. I sure as hell didn’t brandish one,” Paul said. “I’m not waiting around for this.”

“If you leave, then the cops will issue a warrant for your arrest and you will do jail time. I’m not joking. I’ve seen it happen too many times around here. Normally, I wouldn’t even report this to the police, but if they find out I don’t then my bar will be shut down. Like I said, we’ve got some very strict cops around here. You do not want to run from this.”

Paul grabbed my hand and held it tightly in his. He looked deeply into my eyes and for one of the few times since I’d known him he looked a bit scared. He tried to smile weakly at me as if reassuring me that everything was going to be ok, but I knew that he was scared.

“It’s going to be ok,” I said. “You didn’t do this; you are the victim here.”

“Yeah, except I threw the first punch,” Paul said. “And I threw the first punch at the tournament too. This doesn’t look good for me.”

“If we have to we can get a good lawyer,” I said. “My uncle Joe has some friends who are lawyers. He knows some people.”

“This is even worse because of some things in my past,” Paul said. “Things I’ve never told you.”

My mouth went dry and I tried to keep my breathing slow and steady. But I felt like the entire world was burning down around me.

And the flames were burning me inside out.