Unfortunately, he had to, especially since she'd changed so much. She hated actors. He silently swore and put on some aftershave. When had that happened? What would she do when she found out what he was? How could he prove that he was different from other actors? He knew it wouldn't be easy to change her mind. He should have told her, but wanted to wait for the right time. But he wasn't sure when that would be.
***
Stacy glanced around at the cream colored walls and looked at her Anger Management instructor. Two days of group activities and heartfelt stories made Stacy want to break something. If hell ever froze over, Stacy knew her instructor would reign supreme. Mora Sharpton had the lithe body of a yoga instructor, a sharp Bronx accent, reddish blonde hair, ruddy cheeks and ice blue eyes. So far, Stacy had been able to endure her and was glad she only had one day left. But today when she entered the room she was the only one there. Her instructor Mora glanced over her paper work. "You've got a nasty temper."
I'm not here to get a merit badge
, Stacy thought, but kept her mouth shut.
Mora looked up at her. "This is your last day."
Stacy nodded.
A cool smile touched Mora’s lips. "Bet you think this is a waste of time."
Stacy sighed.
Mora's smile widened. "You're angry right now, aren't you? You wish you were anywhere else but here."
Stacy folded her arms. She only had to last a few more hours then she'd never have to see this woman again.
“Let’s go.” Mora took Stacy to another room where a punching bag stood. She tossed her a pair of boxing gloves. "Go ahead and get it out."
"What? You want me to punch it?"
"You're ready for a fight, you might as well finish it and get it out of the way. You either punch that or me. It's your choice."
"I'm not going to hit you and a punching bag won't make anything any better."
"Have you tried it? Scared?"
"No."
"Then hit it."
Stacy put on the gloves then gave the bag a light punch.
Mora shoved her back hard and she fell down with a thud. "Stop wasting my time."
Stacy stared up at her stunned. "What did you do that for?" She stood.
Mora pushed her again. Harder, causing Stacy to fall down again.
Stacy jumped to her feet. "Stop that."
"Why? I thought you liked being pushed around. You like having a reason to be angry."
"No, I don't."
"You're always ready for a fight so I'm giving you one."
"I never said that," Stacy protested. "I don't want to fight."
"Then why are you always angry?"
"I'm not," Stacy said, trying to keep her temper under control.
"What about your ex?"
"He's a bastard."
"And your lawyer?"
"An incompetent one."
"So everything is still someone else's fault?" Mora pushed her.
But this time Stacy was prepared and held her ground and pushed back. "I said cut it out."
"AWS is not something to be ashamed of. It's a growing epidemic, but you don't have to stay its victim."
"AWS?"
"Angry Woman Syndrome. We're under more pressure than ever before and we're not handling it well. No, you don't have to be sugar and spice, but being a bitch isn't the only other option. You need to learn how to face life without letting it destroy you. But first you have to admit you want to change."
Stacy thought of Kelly's blog post, shouting at poor Houdini and ruining Chance's friend's car. "I do."
"Then punch this thing as hard as you can and tell me who or what it represents."
First she punched her ex--more than once. Then her brother, then her ex-housekeeper Kelly, then the woman at the prison--Laurice, the judge at her divorce trial, the officers who arrested her...soon she was punching away her feelings of inadequacy, fear of being alone, her sense of failure. She punched and then kicked the bag until her entire body trembled from exertion, sweat covering her. Then she threw off her gloves and screamed. "I don't want to be this way! I don't want to scare people. I want to be happy again. Every day I'm in pain. Every day hurts so much. I want things to be different!" She screamed again, until her voice was hoarse. Then she slid to the ground, brought her knees to her chest, lowered her head and sobbed. After a few moments she heard clapping. But not just one pair of hands, a group. Stacy heard applause. She cautiously lifted her head and saw the other woman from the group, cheering her.
Stacy hesitated wondering why they were smiling at her and wondering if the friendly gesture was a trick. Then she realized she didn't want to always be suspicious. She wanted to learn to trust again. She stood.
"Are you ready to take responsibility for your life?" Mora said coming forward.
"Yes."
She stood in front of Stacy and placed her hands on her hips."Life throws crap at all of us. Remember our stories aren't about our setbacks but our triumphs." She pointed to a petite woman, who looked like a former high school cheerleader. "Her ex sent her to the ER three times and still got custody of the kids." She pointed to another woman, tall elegant, dark skinned. "Her boss made sure she went down for an embezzlement scheme
he
committed. Do you know what separates the winners from the losers in life? It's not luck. It's how you respond to adversity. The losers give up and blame others. The winners take responsibility for their actions and focus on what they can control. The moment you can do that, the world is yours. So who's fault is it that your ex got alimony?"
Stacy's eyes widened. "You really want me to say that was my fault? He--"
"Had more friends than you. More influence than you. Why was that? Why did you let
your
friends disappear? Only one stayed. Where did the others go? Was it his fault?"
"No."
"Was it his fault that you decided to dedicate books to him he didn't help you write? Or that you gave up your dreams for him? Or that you buried yourself so that you could see him shine? You made a choice. He just exploited it. So again, I ask you, whose fault is it that your ex got alimony?"
Stacy gritted her teeth. "If I'd had a better lawyer."
Mora's gaze sharpened. "And whose fault is that? You chose him."
"I was stressed out and--"
"Stop making excuses." She jabbed Stacy's chest. "You chose a bad lawyer." She jabbed her again. "You chose a bad husband." And again. "You chose friends who dropped you when you needed them most. It's not about blame. It's about ownership. Everything in life has a cause and effect. If you drink poison and get sick, you can't blame the poison."
Stacy threw up her hands. "Fine. I admit I'm the biggest idiot in the world. And I deserve all that's happened to me."
Mora shook her head. "You're not an idiot, you're human. And humans make mistakes. The moment you can admit that you've made some bad choices you can forgive yourself and start making right ones."
"Forgive myself?"
"Yes. Stacy, it's as simple as that. You can't trust others when you don't trust yourself. You have to believe in yourself again."
***
Stacy returned home feeling good about herself, when her phone rang. "I've been waiting," her brother said after she answered.
Stacy gripped the phone then remembered all that she'd learned from anger management. She had to respond not react. She couldn't let him push her buttons. Stacy took a deep breath and checked Houdini's water bowl to make sure it was full then flopped down on the couch. "Why?"
"You said you'd call me back."
Stacy silently counted to ten. "Hmm."
"What's wrong with you? Did you hear what I said?"
"I spoke to Mom--"
"I told you not to tell them."
"I didn't. She called me and told me not to give you any money. So I'll say this once. You call me again with a lie like that and I'll turn you into my little sister. Understood?"
He swore. "Sorry, but I'm desperate. I just thought you might have a couple thousand."
"No."
"Not even a few hundred--"
Stacy kept her voice light. "Do you think I'm joking?"
"No," he said resigned. "But--"
"Bye," she said then hung up and grabbed Houdini's leash, feeling good that she didn't feel angry or upset but liberated. She was already a new woman and tomorrow she was going to the spa.
Dr. Michael Staton returned home after a long day at the hospital. He took off his tie and poured himself a drink. He then entered the bedroom and saw his wife lying on the ground, blood seeping from a wound on her forehead. He rushed over to her and cradled her in his arms. Then he raced to the phone and called an ambulance. In the mirror he saw a reflection of a dark figure outside the window. His heart started racing and his mouth wouldn't move. The room seemed to be closing in on him, but he couldn't let it over take him. He had to stay in control. She needed him. They all did. Everything depended on how he handled this moment. He turned and raced to the door and yanked on the handle. It fell into his hands.
"Cut!"
The woman on the ground burst into laughter. "That's the third doorknob you've broken."
Chance swallowed hard, wishing his heart rate would return to normal. He forced a smile. "I didn't break it."
The prop man immediately replaced the fixture. "I told you to be gentle."
"I'm a man in a hurry," Chance said with a hollow laugh, feeling a bead of sweat slide down his back. He took a deep breath and swallowed again, he wanted to run but he couldn't.
"Let's try again."
Those were words he didn't want to hear. He usually liked to get things done in one take, but he'd messed up and he had no one else to blame. He steadied his breathing and went through the second take feeling as if his body was moving in slow motion. He struggled to give the right looks, the right words but his brain was in a fog.
"Cut! Great job!"
He helped the lead actress, Samantha Huggins up. She looked at him. "Are you okay?"
"Fine as always."
They'd need to do reaction shots. He had to be prepared for them. "Give me a minute," he said hoping he didn't sound as breathless as he felt. He just needed air.
Chance went to his dressing room and washed his face, splashing the cold water to cool the burning sensation. You're not dying. He reminded himself. You're bigger than this. He didn't know why the panic attacks were getting more frequent. He had finally gotten what he wanted. Work as an actor. He enjoyed who he worked with. He couldn't let these attacks take that away from him. He wouldn't. No medication worked. Some made him too drowsy, others too hyper. He had an appointment with his doctor to start another prescription, but he was hesitant to go. He'd gotten the attacks to stop a few years back, he didn't know why they'd returned with a vengeance. He put drops in his eyes to wet his contact lens and took several deep, fortifying breaths. Soon he felt his heart beat slow. He would conquer this.
His cell phone rang and he absently glanced at the unfamiliar number then he did a double take: Stacy. He dashed for the phone and seized it forgetting his hands were wet. It slipped through his fingers and flew through the air. Fortunately, it landed on a chair.
Please don't hang up, please don't hang up
. He scrambled for it, drying his hands on his trousers, hitting his knee against a table and swearing before he grabbed the phone again. "Hello?"
"Are you okay? You sound out of breath."
Chance squeezed his eyes shut and rubbed his knee. "I'm fine."
"I just wanted to call and say hi."
God he'd missed hearing her voice. "I'm glad you did," he said trying not to sound too eager.
Cool. He had to stay cool.
"I just completed Anger Management this week and soon I'll finish my class at the detention center," Stacy said sounding a little unsure.
"Congratulations."
"I guess what I'm trying to say is that although my time is busy right now, I hope to get to see you again." He heard her take a deep breath. "I've gotten a lot of things wrong in my life. And right now I have a lot I have to fix, but--"
To me you're perfect just the way you are.
"Let me treat you to lunch this Saturday."
"You treated me last time."
"So? You choose the place."
Please say yes.
"Okay."
"But I want you to be honest with me and tell me what you're dealing with."
"You don't want to know," she said.
"I wouldn't be asking if I didn't. Remember, I don't scare easily."
"Fine. I'll tell you, but I don't want you to feel obligated."
"You don't want me to care about my girlfriend and not try to help her? Of course I will."
"Girlfriend?" Stacy said, stumbling over the word.
"You want to be exclusive, right?"
"Yes, but--"
"I know it seems fast, but we're grownups and I don't think we need to pretend that we're not serious about each other."
"I didn't expect you to be so matter of fact about it," she said sounding happy.
"If I had the time I'd be over there right now and let you know how serious I am."
"And I wouldn't stop you," she said with a laugh.
Chance tugged on his collar feeling his temperature rise. He loved hearing her laugh. If he wasn't careful he'd start picturing her naked and imagining what he could do with her. He cleared his throat and fought to focus on what he had to say. "I want you to do something for me."
Stacy released a nervous laugh. "I'm afraid to ask. What do you want me to help you with?"
"I don't want you to help me with anything. I want you to accept me the way I am."
"I do."
He smiled. "You haven't seen my bad side yet. And there may be things you don't like about me, but I don't want you to use them against me."
Like the fact that I'm an actor.
"I'm sure I can handle anything."
"Promise?"
"You're starting to sound really cryptic."