On The Surface

At the Gay Bar

The sound of the apartment door slamming drew Lisa out of her room. She was wearing a robe and her hair was still up in a towel, wet from the shower. "Way! Oh my God, I got your text. So you stayed over again? Was it sex this time? Was it...what the fuck happened to your face?"

Waylon's eyes darted around as he tried to think. What to do. But this was Lisa. So, the truth. "Eddie hit me."

"Like, you two are into freaky sex?" Lisa asked, taking the towel down and letting her wet brown hair fall down her back.

"No, like, he hit me. I made him mad somehow. I don't really know what I did. He seemed to just...like a reflex...and I bit my tongue..."

"Way," Lisa said, her voice breaking as she threw herself at her ex-fiance and held him tight. "No one's allowed to hit you, baby."

"I know," Waylon said, looking up to keep the tears that were gathering from falling. "I don't think he meant it."

"Fuck that Way! No one is allowed to hit you!" Lisa reiterated, her head firmly pressed against his shoulder as she continued her constricting hold. "This guy seems nice, but maybe he's not right for you. You can't just date the first guy you find. Especially not if he hits you. This isn't cool, Way."

"I know," he said quietly, though inside he was already thinking of Eddie. Maybe he should have stayed. Eddie had seemed so repentant.

"You're done with that fucker," Lisa said.

"No, Lis, it's more complicated than that, I won't just walk away from this if it might be something. Besides, I knew about his past..."

"What past," Lisa said, pulling away to stare daggers at Waylon. "You never told me he has some kind of past. What the fuck, Way? Spill it."

She led him over to the couch and they both sat down. She allowed him a few moments without pushing until he was ready to speak. "He was abused as a kid. Sexually, Lisa. It's very personal and hard for him to talk about."

"That doesn't give someone the right to hurt you Way..."

"I know. I know that. And he has a history of domestic violence. He...hurt some women. One of them died."

"Oh my fucking God, why is this guy out on the streets?!" Lisa's voice was getting that high pitched panic quality that grated on Waylon's nerves.

"He did his time, he completed his therapy, he still goes to see his shrink! Fuck, I drove him just the other day," Waylon was running his fingers through his greasy blond hair. He really needed a shower. He still reeked of sex. "Eddie's a model parolee, he said. He hasn't dated anyone since all that happened. This is his first time. It's new, and he's so...damaged Lisa, and I...fuck, God help me, I am...falling. So hard."

"What? You can't be serious. You..." Lisa's voice was rising now, growing frantic. "It took you three years of dating before you admitted that you loved me. Another five before we were engaged. And yet you fuck this guy one time and you're in love??"

"God Lisa," Waylon bent over putting is elbows on his knees and face in his hands. "Can we focus on one problem at a time."

"I'm tired. I had a long night at work. And another shift tonight. Deal with your own shit," spat Lisa, standing up and going into her own room. The door shut louder than necessary, making Waylon flinch.

Thus began the worst week of Waylon's life. The bad part about being in business for yourself is that while you are free to take a day off anytime you want, that means your shop and livelihood are sitting empty and forgotten. Waylon pulled himself in to work and was not surprised to see Eddie waiting in the window of his own shop. He rushed out to meet Waylon before he could make it into his own store.