15. Mari
The half-full, sticky cup—aimed directly at the retreating back of the asshole biker—was about to leave my fingers when an arm came out of nowhere to rip it from my grasp.
“Mari,” Leo hissed as he tossed it into the trash. “That was a Wraith.”
I saw red. Anger pulsed my temples, and I had no clear thoughts. “Oh, I know.” I chuckled without humor. “I was gonna hit him dead center on his precious little vest.”
“And then what?” Leo’s eyes were frantic and wide.
“This isn’t your problem.” I stomped my foot and wiped my hands on my jeans.
“You really think starting shit with the local biker gang is your best idea?” he asked, a vein throbbing in his temple as he whisper-yelled.
A few passing pedestrians had glanced over when they heard the bike ride through and my accompanying shout of rage. They stopped to watch the drama unfold as I’d prepared to launch the cup. “He shouldn’t get away with that,” I growled back.
He looked around again and tried to bring me to the car. I dug in my heels. I wasn’t done here.
“Do you have a death wish? Why am I always pulling you away from danger?” He mumbled the last part to himself.
“I would prefer if you didn’t!” I shouted, and I heard a cackle of laughter from across the street, but I didn’t break my eye contact with Leo.
His shoulders rose and fell as he took a deep breath in and out.
“Mari, can you just?—”
“Do not finish that sentence with ‘calm down.’” I hated that my voice shook with pent-up emotion.
“I wasn’t going to.” He held up his palms to me.
“I’m so sick of people telling me to calm down. To be quiet. To let shit like that slide. It’s because nobody is making a scene or standing up to these...these bullies, that awful stuff continues to happen.” My body thrummed with pent-up energy; it begged to punch or scream.
“I’m starting to think this isn’t just about the litterbug,” Leo said.
I shook my head. “I’m sick of people treating the world, people, like they’re disposable. Nobody tries anymore. Nobody takes the time to make things right.”
Leo blinked at me and then let out another long breath.
I’d been so happy only seconds ago. I’d caught up with Clara’s best friend, Molly, and her husband. I’d secured further donations. And when I’d walked out to find Leo watching and waiting for me, I had a frisson of hope. This could be my life. I could have my students and band while a thoughtful, sweet man made me meals and waited for me with that goofy half-smile.
And then that Wraith roared through, and it was like a switch had flipped instantly. A reminder that I couldn’t have those things. Just like with the crashing tree, every time I started to let myself think about a future where I wasn’t alone, the universe delivered a sign.
It wasn’t healthy to get angry so fast, to flood with such venomous rage that I couldn’t think straight. I should be quiet, mind my manners, let things slide. But with every passing year, I struggled to remember why remaining passive was so important.
The older I got, the louder my inner voice wanted to scream out at all the injustices it saw.
“I have an idea,” Leo said. “Let’s get out of here.”
Of course, he just wanted me out of there. He wanted to return to the safety of his house and get far away from me. He hadn’t even wanted to come out in the first place, and I was living out his nightmares. The more I stood up for what I wanted, the less attractive I became, and that was the crux of an aging woman. I couldn’t keep anybody around me.
I wouldn’t have to set boundaries with Leo because my natural human-repellent was doing just fine. “You can just take me home. Or I’ll walk. Whatever.”
I shoved past him. The anger that made me feel like I could flip a bus deflated, leaving my shoulders hunched.
“Mari.” He jogged to keep up with me. “Actually. My idea is something else. Can you trust me enough to come with me without asking a hundred questions?”
I stopped and chewed my lip. He wanted me to come with him? Wasn’t I glad for the boundaries? But his curls were all mussed up, and his brows were contorted in hope, and ultimately, poor decisions were what made life interesting.
“Okay,” I said. “But I can’t make any promises about the hundred questions.”
“I’ll take it.” He pulled out his phone. One hand tugged his hair as the other scanned something. “We should make it, but we have to go right now.”
A little over an hour later, inside a nondescript concrete building, Leo and I wore matching jumpsuits, helmets, gloves, and safety goggles.
The teenager running the Rage Room handed me a sledgehammer after going over the rules and safety precautions.
“You’re good to go. You have thirty minutes. Rage away,” she said and left the padded room filled with junk.
“I’ve heard of these but thought they were a joke,” I said, glancing around. Several glass bottles sat on a ledge, but an old box TV on the table called to me. “I can’t even decide where to start.”
Leo fidgeted with his goggles, grinning happily. He looked hot. How could he possibly pull off a silk caftan, or jeans and a tee, or this look? Not fair.
“The whole point is not to think. Or at least don’t overthink,” he said.
I frowned in confusion.
“Pull up a memory that pisses you off and let it rip. That biker throwing his drink. Or Pin Dick,” he suggested.
I hefted the sledgehammer, testing the weight of it. “Or Ben Huntsford.”
“Who?”
I huffed a laugh. “Really?”
“Oh yeah, the dulcimer guy. Wait, why him?”
“He left me a voicemail today when he knew I wouldn’t be able to take the call. He said he couldn’t help Cath because it would be too loud.” I scratched an itch under my helmet. “I think he just doesn’t want her practicing there.”
Leo frowned.
“At least we still have Devlin as an option,” I said. “He’s good for it, even if it isn’t as convenient.”
Leo picked up a crowbar. “Well, screw that Ben guy. Muster that classic Mari rage. Go balls to the wall.” He gestured all around.
Classic Mari rage.
I glanced down to look at myself. In this too-big jumpsuit, helmet knocking around on my head, I suddenly felt a little ridiculous. I felt like a child.
“Time’s a-wasting,” Leo said. “Wait. What’s wrong? I thought you’d love this.”
“I do in theory. But being here, I feel so ridiculous.” I’d had too long on the drive up to Knoxville to cool off.
“Ridiculous? It was my idea.”
“Or maybe childish? Grown women shouldn’t be acting like this. I should learn to control my temper,” I said.
“Why control it?” he asked. “Just acknowledge it.”
I lifted my chin.
“Do you think maybe you’re holding on too tight?” he asked.
“This again.” A flash of him standing behind me, holding my hand that gripped the drumstick.
“You’re this ball of pent-up rage. Bouncing around in this perpetual pinball machine of life, never fully free to go off. It must be exhausting.”
“Excuse me?”
He went on, “I don’t pretend to know what it’s like to be a woman in this world. I’ve never been catcalled. At least not by a sleazy biker. And I imagine that’s only the tip of the injustice iceberg. But ‘should’ is a dangerous word.”
When I didn’t say anything, he said, “Emotions don’t have value. Good or bad. They just are. They need to be acknowledged before you can let them go. Maybe if you ever had your feelings of anger validated, you wouldn’t need to feel like going to extremes to be heard.”
My mouth fell open.
“That was . . . shockingly profound.”
I frowned in thought, recalling the many times I was told to be quiet, smile to seem nice, or make myself as small as possible to even avoid being noticed. I felt the need to make a scene because I never felt like anybody was listening to me. It was that same helpless feeling as when I was young, and my brothers would talk over me. Or when I tried to talk to my mom about something and she’d say, “There’s a plan for everything” and “Don’t get so worked up about it.”
“I never had this temper before when I was younger,” I admitted. “In the past few years, it feels like...like I can’t pretend anymore.”
“Pretend at what?”
“To be nice. And sweet. Maybe I’m just an angry person.” My throat felt tight. How else could I explain this temper that seemed to rule me lately? “I’m just not nice.”
“You’re an incredible and giving person, Mari. I think bad shit happens sometimes, and you were never taught how to express your anger. What would happen if you were allowed to be angry?” He tapped my sledgehammer with his toe. “Let’s see.” He eyed the room. “Or I’ll call dibs on the TV.”
I roughly pushed him aside. “Nice try, little drummer boy. That’s all mine.”
Chuckling, he spread an arm wide, proffering the room. He stepped back as I swung the hammer above my head.
“This is for Pin Dick!” I slammed it down with all my might, thrilled with the satisfying crash that accompanied it. The hammer bounced off, shock waves moving through my arms. “Ouch,” I said.
“That’s it,” Leo said, going to the opposite corner.
“Yes! And gross bikers messing up our town!” I screamed as I twisted to hold the hammer like a baseball bat and swung it into the glass screen. The screen shattered, sending debris everywhere.
“There you go!” Leo called over the crash.
Then he got to work on his own side. I didn’t watch but heard him smashing glass.
“This is for sports always being picked over music!” I swung down again, a large panel breaking off the side to reveal circuit boards.
“This is for moving to different cities and not even considering me.” I smashed down on an old plastic wall phone that sat on the table. It exploded in tan and black pieces, a bell ringing in the chaos. I hadn’t even realized I was still upset with my family’s last-minute change of plans. I was so mad to have not even been an afterthought in their decision-making.
“This is for leaving me here all alone while you got to live your big, important lives in different states!” The hammer cracked a sturdy but outdated laptop in half. “For only calling when it’s a holiday!” Whack. “For never remembering my birthday or asking how my life is going!” Thunk. “For starting new families away from Green Valley and never remembering your roots!”
I stopped when I couldn’t see anymore. My vision blurred, and for a second, I panicked, thinking a chunk of plastic had gotten through the goggles. Then a tear rolled down my cheek. I touched a fingered glove to my face and looked at the damp spot on my finger in confusion.
I was crying. But I had just been so mad. I’d been pulsing with anger. And now this? It was as if acknowledging the anger made the floodgates burst open. I started to sob, shoulders shaking.
“Mari?” Leo stepped to me but kept his distance. “Wait, are you crying or laughing?”
I lifted my head and was grinning like a maniac. “I’m really not sure.”
Absurdity at the situation had morphed my gaping sadness into laughter. Now, I was both crying and laughing so hard I wasn’t even sure what I felt. “I don’t know what’s happening.”
Leo’s shoulders relaxed, and he popped a dimple. “Listen, I’m no doctor. But there’s a chance you might have some pent-up emotions that needed to be let loose.”
I scoffed a wet laugh and shook my head, clearing the last of whatever the hell that all was.
“That was wild,” I admitted.
My whole body shook with what felt like every passing emotion. Adrenaline coursed through me, and now this shaky post-emotional euphoria was settling in. I felt like I could float off the floor. I felt better than I had in years.
“That was incredible,” I said to myself in awe.
It was just destroying stuff, but it felt like so much more. I felt free to be myself in whatever form that took, even if it wasn’t always pretty, nice, or quiet. I was loud and wild, and I took up space.
Leo was panting as he looked around the destroyed room. “We went through the stuff a lot faster than I thought.” He wiped his brow. “I can pay to get more junk in the room if you want to keep going. Cheaper than therapy, at least.”
He grinned at me, and it tugged something deep in me. That familiar blackening out of rational thought. I only saw the world in glimpses. Leo’s lips. Leo’s dimples. Leo’s curls.
“That’s not what I want.” I hardly recognized my voice.
I tugged off my gloves. I pushed off my helmet and tossed my goggles to the side. I shook out my hair, and with every action, whatever Leo saw on my face caused his smile to melt away.
He swallowed, his gaze moving all over my face and body.
“What are you?—”
I launched myself at him.