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A small piece for SampleSunday from a book of 4 shorts and a long tale of fortitude through trying relationships.
The Battle is not Between Us
A woman is accosted in her home by the wife of a co-worker.
Turning the burner off under the pot of rice and wiping the flour from her hands onto the front of her jeans, Quentin Alexander went to answer the knock on the apartment’s door.
The simultaneous opening of the door and the power of the unanticipated punch in the face knocked her flat to the floor. Without pause, a body landed on her stomach and she was immediately struggling and blocking blows to her face. Adrenaline rushed through her veins like electricity through wires and her heart felt ready to burst from fear and confusion.
Unable to return any of the blows that were making contact with her body, Quentin concentrated on blocking the blows to her face by holding her arms in a crossed position. Afraid the stranger beating her would kill her, she wrapped her legs around the lower torso of the person above. She pushed her crossed arms into the chest of the assailant and at the same time rolled her body until she was on the top of what she now knew to be a woman. The quick roll of the self-defense move had her as superior and she looked into the stunned gaze of her attacker.
Breathing heavily, Quentin sat on the woman’s legs, held her straining arms stretched above her head and pinned to the floor.
“Be still because if you hit me again, I will kill you. Who the hell are you?”
“I’m Josiah’s wife.”
“What?”
“Don’t try to act like you don’t know.” The woman bucked her body to try and knock Quentin off.
“Of course I know him. We work together. He’s not married. I asked him.”
“You’re a liar.” She bucked again. “Get the hell off of me.”
“Hey, you’re a damned maniac. Bustin’ in my house and attacking me. I don’t know what you’ll do next. For all I know you could have a gun. I should call the police.” Quentin bounced on the woman’s legs. “Be still.”
Quentin, taking advantage of the power of her position to lift the woman’s head and chest for enough off the floor that the impact of the thrush downward would jar when the head hit the floor, Quentin slammed it down to her second command of be still.
“Hell,” the assailant gritted through her teeth. “You’re the one that’s been screwing with my husband.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. Let’s get a couple of facts straight. I’ve only known him three weeks. No sleeping around here.”
Using her hands she pressed her weight into the woman’s chest and stomach to aid her in crossing over and standing, Quentin climbed across the woman, stood, grabbed the loose ends of her below shoulder length hair in one hand, and stooped to retrieve the rubber band torn from the strands in the struggle. She started to return it to the ponytail style she had been wearing, but her hands were shaking too much and she tossed the band on the island countertop in the kitchen.
Glaring at the heavily breathing woman still lying on the floor, Quentin took two cokes from the refrigerator and walked back into the living room. What she wanted to do was bash the can in Josiah’s wife’s face, instead she silently handed the woman one before taking a seat on the couch.
From the corner of her eye she watched as the woman opened the can, took a sip and rubbed her empty hand across her face with shaky movements. Taking a big gulp from her own can, Quentin leaned her head back while keeping her glance on the woman from the corner of her eye.
“What’s your name?” she asked.
“Shanel.”
Quentin sat up and pointed her finger at Josiah’s wife.
“I’ll tell you this much, Shanel, before you think about bustin’ into some other woman’s home you’d better lose a little weight, take some self-defense classes and then change your mind and kick Josiah’s sorry ass. Hey, don’t get me wrong, I’m not saying you’re fat.” she raised her hands in a defensive mode. “I’m just sayin’ you’re breathing all hard like you’re gonna have a heart attack and If you hadn’t caught me by surprise I could have hurt you.” She looked at the strands of her hair entangled in the rubber band. “And why the hell did you come to fight me? Do you see how much of my hair you pulled out?” She tossed the band towards the woman and it hit her in the face. “This shit right here,” Quentin lifted a hand full of hair to show and then let it fall back down. “Is real and your pulling it hurt, like hell.” She got up quickly, rushed across the room and examined her face in the mirror. “Oh my God, you better be glad I don’t have any photo shoots for the next two weeks or I would press charges on you.” She looked at the woman searchingly. “You must not have any children.”
“We have two, a two year old girl and a three month old boy.” Shanel answered after taking another sip from her can.
“Oh, that explains the mushy body. Okay, sorry that was low of me.” Quentin raised her hands in the air and apologized at the look the woman gave her. “Well, I can tell you definitely don’t care about your children. You could have been killed. You don’t know me. You don’t know what kind of weapon I have in this house. I feel like coming over there and slapping some sense into you. I can’t get over you bustin’ in my house and hitting me in the face.”
“I can’t get over you screwing with my husband.”
“Whoa, wait a minute. I’m not messing with your damn husband. I met him three weeks ago and went out with him once. He’s not my type. He said he was not tied to anyone, not married and didn’t have any children. This battle you wanna have is not between you and me it belongs between you and Josiah. Get off the floor and sit on the chair over there.”
Quentin pointed to a chair across from the couch she was sitting on, watching closely in case the woman decided to make a sneak attack.
“What’s your name again?”
Shanel flopped dejectedly in the chair and wiped a tear from the corner of her left eye.
“Shanel, and you’re right, I shouldn’t have come here, but you are the third person he has been with within the past year. The others, I know were just one night stands, but you…he’s been away from home every night. The only name I hear is Quentin. At first I thought you were a guy and y’all were hanging out, but he became obsessed. When he started putting magazines around the house with your picture on it…I lost it. There you were female, skinny as hell, beautiful and sleeping with my husband.”
“You know something, Shanel, I don’t want to be your friend, but I have to tell you this. Not every woman your husband meets wants to sleep with him. I for one do not. He's not as ‘all that’ as you think."
Shanel made as if to stand and protest.
“Hey, sit back down.” Quinten raised a finger as a warning. “I’m not kidding and you’re wasting your time trying to defend him to me. Do you think I want a slime that’s playing around on his family? He denied you guys and yet, here you are endangering your life over someone who carelessly throws you aside. I can bet this isn’t even the first time you’ve been in this situation. Do you always chase after the woman?”
Shanel looked Quinten in the eyes and slowly lowered her head.
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