“Turkey sandwich on,” I paused and looked at Kace.
“Wheat,” she said.
“Two turkey sandwiches on wheat bread – add a salad to each. With vinaigrette on the side please. Thank you,”
“Dressing on the sandwich?” The waitress asked.
I looked at Kace.
“Light mayonnaise, please,” she said softly.
“Same,” I said.
“Okay, just a few minutes,” the waitress said.
“You feeling less nervous?” I asked.
“It’s weird. Yes, I am. When you ordered the dressing on the side, I think I realized you’re human. I don’t know, I just immediately felt comfortable. It was like my insides sighed. Would you have ordered light mayonnaise if I hadn’t said something?” she asked.
Wow, she speaks.
“Yes, I would have,” I responded.
She sighed softly and smiled.
“You’re beautiful, Kace. When you’re lying in bed tonight, remember that. You’re beautiful,” I said softly.
She smiled.
“You are?” I asked.
She shrugged.
“Beautiful,” I said again.
“You are?” I asked.
She slowly smiled.
“Beautiful?” she asked softly.
“Let’s try this again,” I said.
“Kace, what are you? Describe yourself to me?”
“Beautiful,” she responded softly.
“You certainly are. Don’t forget it, okay?” I said, nodding my head once sharply.
She nodded and took a deep breath.
“So, he’s controlling. He’s abusive. He slaps me. He hits me. He yells at me, chokes me, he tells me I can’t leave the house. Let’s see,” she paused , looked out the window and bobbed her head up and down playfully to the music playing.
“He monitors my text messages, phone calls, spending, and tells me I’m a dirty slut and a whore,” she turned and looked back in my direction.
Her eyes were welled with tears, but none fell.
I gritted my teeth and tried not to show my anger. People like Kace’s husband make me develop an anger that is only fed by changing or fixing the situation. When I box, I often tell myself that my opponent is abusing a woman. It’s a way that allows me to become at peace with fighting someone that hasn’t really done anything to deserve the beating that they receive.