If you would have told me that morning that I would be knocked out by a hot blonde, I'd have thought you meant by her looks. It turns out I must have a glass jaw because her fist did it, not her looks.
When I came to, I was on my butt on the floor of a coffee shop. It wasn't crowded, but the four people in there were huddled around me.
My first thought wasn't about what happened, it was about how clean the hardwood floor was. I'd have to remember to let the manager know how appreciated that was.
I looked around as I was helped to my feet. The few people there started to walk away once they saw I was alright and I was left with a young man who couldn't have been more than sixteen.
Across the shop, I saw the source of my Saturday morning excitement and I couldn't believe it.
She was crying but was still gorgeous. As I looked her over, I saw the mien of a woman who was struggling. It was written all over her and I was struck sad by it. I knew then what happened and it was my fault.
Almost a year to the day before the meeting of her fist and my face, we sat in a similar coffee shop and I broke her heart. Her husband was having an affair with my wife.
Jim Taylor, her husband, was a handy-man that I hired to install a water line to our new refrigerator. He did a good job and told my wife about some other minor things I should have done around the house.
All told he spent about three days doing little things like fixing a door that stuck, replacing damaged tiles, and whatever honey-do things my wife could find for him that I didn't have the time to do.
Unfortunately, one of those things was also doing my wife.
I caught them the usual way, I came home from work early and they were naked on my leather couch watching porn and mimicking the action.
I took some pictures and threw them both out. Those were the pictures I showed his wife Holly and with which I apparently ruined her life.
A year later she knocked me out.
The voice of the kid snapped me out of my memory, "Do you want me to call the cops?"
"No," I couldn't take my eyes off of Holly. She was sitting and still crying and was the most lovely woman I'd ever seen.
I walked over to her and the young female employee that was talking to her stood in front of her defensively.
"It's okay," I held my hands up and signaled no bad intent.
"I'm sorry, it's okay, I'll be alright," Holly said, releasing the young girl from her protection duty.
"I think you should both leave," she said before returning to her station at the cash register.
"Can we talk about it, Holly?"
"I'm sorry I hit you, Tom—but you ruined my life."
I didn't think I ruined her life, that was her asshole ex's handy-work. I just let her know what a shit he was.
"Come on, before they call the cops," I held my hand out and she took it."
I grabbed my phone and coffee from the table on the way out and led her to the park across the street.
"What happened, Holly? Why did you hit me?"
"I lost everything. We didn't have a lot, but we were okay."
I nodded and watched as she steeled herself to continue.
"After you did everything you could to ruin his life, he left. He left me and my daughter and ran off to God knows where. He took all of what was in the bank and all of his clothes and tools and went into the wind."
I was pissed at him and used some contacts I had to get him fired and blackballed. I didn't think of the repercussions of that and now they were staring me in the face.
"I'm sorry, Holly. I guess I didn't think..."
"No! You thought. You just didn't care."
I shook my head and she continued to berate me.
"Your precious ego was damaged so you took revenge. Tell me. What did you do to your wife?"
"I gave the pictures to all of her friends, her parents, sister..."
"You
are
a bastard."
She got up to leave and I put my hand on her arm. "Can I help in any way? I am sorry."
She glared at me. "You want a glimpse into my life? Come on."
"This is the diner where I was supposed to be at work a half-hour ago."
We walked past and I looked back, "Did you call in sick?"
She handed me her phone that was open to a text. It read, "I warned you. Don't bother coming in, you're fired."
I handed it back to her, "Just another thing you fucked up for me."
It wasn't my fault she saw me in the window, stormed into the coffee shop, and hit me. I didn't tell her that for fear of another punch.
We walked a few blocks to a run-down three-flat. "See the van?"
I nodded.
"Hasn't run in a month. Can't afford to find out what's wrong with it let alone fix it."
I stared at it as she walked away from me.
She opened the door to the house and I hurried to catch up.
We walked up to the top apartment. I saw some roaches scurry along the stairs and was disgusted. The paint on the walls was peeling and the carpet on the stairs stank of God knows what.
She opened the door to the apartment and I saw what I expected. It was as worn and unkempt as the rest of the building.
It was obvious she kept it as clean as she could, but there was only so much that could be done.
"Jim and I bought this as a fixer-upper. He didn't get a chance to fix up much before you ran him out of town."
I didn't know what to say. I'd never been one to be lost for words, but I was shocked.
"Mrs. Cahill, I'm home."
An older lady walked into the room from the kitchen. "Back so soon?"
She frowned and said, "I'll need to find another job, so I won't need you for a while."
The old lady was saddened. "I'm sorry, dear. You know where to find me." She patted her arm and walked back to the kitchen.
"See the TV?" Holly asked.
"Yes."
"We have a dozen kids' movies on DVD. Jim took all of ours. Emily watches them on rotation since I can't afford cable."
She walked into the living room, where a cute little girl was curled up asleep on the couch.
She whispered, "That's my Emily. She's three and hasn't figured out yet that we're trash. She will next year when she goes to pre-school dressed in the rags I can afford."
My heart broke hearing her call herself trash.
The old lady patted her arm on the way out and glared at me menacingly.
She led me into the kitchen and I saw that the faucet leaked and several cabinet doors were broken.
"I'd offer you a drink, but I don't have anything to offer you and you're a bastard who can die of thirst for all I care."
I was struck by her sharpness and sat down on one of her mismatched chairs.
"We had a plan, you know?" She was sitting across from me with the saddest eyes. Like she was up to her neck in quicksand.
"Fix one unit at a time while living in one and renting the third. The rent would pay almost all of the mortgage and when two units were fixed and rented, we would be making a profit. We would then rent out the third unit and buy a house for us to live in."
It was a good plan, I felt bad for ruining it.
"The third unit would have been pure profit and we could afford a nice house with a yard for Em to play in. We would have had a dog, and more children. We had it all planned out. Now I'm stuck. Since the units weren't fixed up, I'm renting them below-market rent and they barely cover the mortgage, let alone buy groceries and other necessities. I'm two months behind and I'm getting letters about foreclosure."
