He never imaged that his bare knuckles could do so much damage. Oliver had watched plenty of TV shows and action movies, but he had only a faint idea of what a strong punch could do. While channels surfing he ran into a mixed martial arts match and saw the shut left eye of a man with a name he couldn’t pronounce. What he was looking at now, however something else entirely. It was Amelia who had been hit. It was he who hit her. He wasn’t looking at a two dimensional moving picture and there was no suited announcer to separate him from the blood and violence that he found himself in the middle of. He looked down at Amelia as she lay on the floor, remorseful, crying and he could see the skin on her cheek was torn by the friction of his fist. She swelled right before his eyes. With each second her jaw filled with fluids that caused a sad and ugly looking asymmetry in the face of the girl he said he loved. She whimpered, “I’m sorry” over and over again as tears fell down her face and mucus from her nose ran into her mouth. It was more reflex than anything that caused him to hit her. They layed in Oliver’s bed. With his parents out of town for the weekend, they indulged in awkward teenage sex. After a few quite after their breaths normalize. She stared at the loose fitting jeans as they hung carelessly over the back of the chair. They annoyingly grabbed her attention and distracted from the feeling of be lonely and stability that she always found herself searching for in her non-naked life because they were rare there. Now that she had those she tried her best to hold on to them a moved her hands up and down Oliver’s flat stomach. Eventually though she said, “Oliver, some of your cloths are just sloppy. You know you don’t always have to buy them two sizes bigger.” He chuckled, “That’s just what I’m comfortable wearing. I like my skin to breath.”
“Aww.” She kissed him on the cheek as his smile disappeared.” You know you’re sexy lets go shopping together next week or something.”
“That’s the second time I’ve heard you say that. Babe, I like to wear what I like to wear. Its my style, and I don’t want you trying to change me.”
I’m not trying to change you. I love you. But how you present yourself sometimes is a little……” She searches for the right word. She said, “Rough?” not sure if she found what she was looking for.
Amelia hopped out of the bed and walked around the foot of it to the closet that was on Oliver’s side. She opened the door and said, “Your parents own three stores. You don’t gotta look you’re in a rap video. Like this shirt it’s out of a BET video.”
“Now you’re stupid. You ain’t black.
“Yeah, but that doesn’t mean I have what the TV says black people wear.” She slipped on his shirt. Its neckline reached the shoulders of her slight frame and hung her boldly like she was a hanger.
“I feel like I’m wearing a tent.”
“Take my shirt off Amelia.”
“I will. Just trying to show you how silly this stuff can look. Unless you’re trying to be some kind of street thug.”
Oliver slowly gets off the bed. He looked Amelia in the eyes and said, “Cut it out. Take it off.”
She turned to her left and looked at the mirror that hung from the inside the closet door. Hunching her shoulders slightly Amelia made a scowl and said to herself, “Yo yo son! I’m A-dawg. I’ll f*** you up if you try pulling that bullshit on me. I ain’t the one. I ain’t a punk.
Oliver’s face lost all expression. Amelia couldn’t see his thoughts, but if she could she would see memories of teenage scuffles, stolen jackets and classroom ridicule. Times when Oliver cried about the bruise and his inability to fight back against things that seemed so much stronger than him. Still talkin to the mirror Amelia said, I ain’t soft.” Again in a move that was more reflex than anything else. Oliver quickly pulled his arm back, made as hard as he can ever had and landed it on the right side of Amelia’s face. She was lifted off the ground, hit a wall a few feet away, and collapsed on the floor. Not quite unconscious, she put her hand on her face and began to cry.
In a slowed hushed voice she said, “I was just joking. I’m sorry. I’m just joking. I’m sorry Oliver….” She repeated the words over and over again as Oliver looked down at her. He was in shock and felt instant shame over what had just happened, but his face was still void of emotion, and his fits were still balled up tight. Oliver would apologize for hitting Amelia. She would accept it. She would lie to people about what happened to her face. He would tell her that he loved her. She would need to believe it. He would hit her again in the future