Page 8 - It Ends with Us

can barel y make out the hea vy rise and fall of hi s back as he drags in

deep brea ths and forces them back out when he’s done with them .
He appea rs to be on the verg e of a brea kdown. I cont em plate
spea king up to let hi m kno w he ha s company, or clea ring my thro at,
but bet ween thi nk ing it and actually doing it, he spins around and
kicks one of the patio cha irs behi nd hi m.
I flinc h as it screec hes across the dec k, but bei ng as tho ugh he isn’t

ev en aware he ha s an audienc e, the guy does n’t stop with just one
kick. He kicks the cha ir rep eated ly, over and over. Rathe r tha n give
way benea th the blunt force of hi s foot, all the cha ir does is scoot
farther and farther away from hi m.
That chai r must be made from marine-grade polymer.
I once watched my father back over an outdoor patio table made of
marine- grade polymer, and it practically laughed at hi m. Dent ed hi s

bumper, but didn’t ev en put a scratch on the table.
Thi s guy must rea lize he’s no match for such a hi gh-quality
materi al, bec ause he fina lly stops kicking the cha ir. He’s no w stand ing
over it, hi s ha nd s clenc hed in fis ts at hi s sides . To be ho nes t, I’m a
little en vious. Here thi s guy is, taking hi s aggres sion out on patio
furni ture like a cha mp. He’s obviously ha d a shi tty day, as ha ve I, but

wherea s I keep my aggres sion pent up unt il it mani fes ts in the form of
passive- aggres sivenes s, thi s guy actually ha s an outlet .
My outlet used to be gardeni ng. Any time I was stres sed , I’d just go
out to the backyard and pull ev er y sing le weed I could find . But sinc e
the day I moved to Boston two yea rs ago, I ha ven’t ha d a backyard. Or
a patio. I don’t ev en ha ve wee ds.
May be I need to invest in a mar ine-grade polymer pat io chai r.

I stare at the guy a moment long er, wond eri ng if he’s ev er going to
move. He’s just stand ing ther e, staring down at the cha ir. His ha nd s
aren’ t in fis ts any more. They ’re res ting on hi s hi ps, and I no tice for
the firs t time how hi s shi rt does n’t fit hi m ver y wel l around hi s bicep s.
It fits him ev er ywhere el se, but hi s arms are hu ge. He beg ins fis hi ng
around in hi s pocket s unt il he find s wha t he’s looking for and —i n

wha t I’m sure is probably an ef fort to rel ea se ev en more of hi s
aggres sion—he light s up a joint .
I’m twent y-thre e, I’ve been thro ugh colleg e and ha ve done thi s
ver y same rec rea tiona l drug a time or two. I’m no t going to judge thi s