Confidence Where You Least Expect

There's a certain amount of self-loathing that comes after a breakup. But honestly, anyone in a relationship with someone abusive, manipulative and hooked on drugs has some amount of justification. That's how I feel about what happened between my ex-girlfriend and me.

Usually, when I have a drink, I take a trip down memory lane. Just beyond the glass rim and welcoming fuzz is a flood of recollections. Sometimes my tours of duty nag my consciousness, and sometimes it's general mistakes like even giving my ex-girlfriend a chance in the first place. Liquor is usually more of an experience than a party. I didn't tell my old comrade that before I accepted his invitation. Instead, I just agreed to the idea.

I tapped my hand on a wooden bar counter to ask for another round. It's been a long time since I let loose, especially with some new company. Well, to be fair, this group of new recruits is overseen by one of my oldest friends, Captain Hart, so they aren't all new. However, after a few tours as Special Forces, we have an unbreakable bond that'll last a lifetime.

Today Hart is handing down his torch to me; in a way, so off the books. Today, I'm to meet the people I will be in charge of, responsible for keeping alive; my new family.

As I said, it's not a formal occasion; in fact, I'm sure our superior officers would shun us for taking the lot out to an old cowpoke bar. Still, Hart never did like to play by the books.

Hart leans his arm back on the sticky old counter before taking a long sip of his tall neck beer. His handlebar mustache really matches the atmosphere. The entire room has an unescapable ascetic that fits him. The walls are covered in too many picture frames. It seems as though each one holds a western tale. Where some pictures should hang are pieces of memorabilia like a big cowboy hat and horseshoe.

Just on the other side of the room is a mechanical bull. It's desolate like it hasn't moved in years.

It's not really my vibe, but I still appreciate it. Just behind the bartender's shoulder is a daredevil high in the sky bouncing clear off a live bull back. It's laughable to compare the danger between the photo and the old machine sitting abandoned in the darkest corner.

I flip around to meet Hart, who's looking out towards the bar, then say, "You ever done anything like that?"

He glances towards the picture to smile under his facial hair, "Bull riding? No."

Our simple bar banter lasts a few sentences when he focuses on the recruits. He nudges his chin towards them, "Think you can handle em'?"

The truth was, I wasn't sure I was ready. Hart trained and prepared me for a world different from what I knew when I was at the group's age. I'm not sure I could be the same figure for them as he is for me.

My uncertainty isn't tolerable, so instead of answering honestly, I nod, "Of course; the real question is if they could handle me."

The sides of his mustache raise after my joke. Somehow I can tell he knows that I don't trust my own statement.

He stands up from the counter, straightens his belt, and waves his hand for our group to gather around. They are quick to listen like they are already wrapped around his finger.

"This here," Hart clears his throat, "Andy Solace, your new Captain- He is one of the bravest people I've ever met. He's got the record to prove it. I expect nothing but respect from you. If not, I'm gonna have to come out of retirement and kick your ass myself."

My heart thumps as he speaks. Somehow Hart still has a way of making me want to live up to some unspoken expectation.

"But tonight, we are gonna forget about all of that and have some fun." He continues.

Then we raise our glass together, "Cheers!"

A few of the recruits tap my back supportively, and we make conversation.

Just as the sincerity of the moment settles, I notice the big door of the bar swing opened. It's flung so elaborately that it demands attention. We all must have seen the grand entrance of my ex-girlfriend, Penny, burden the serenity of the room.

She is decked out in a costume-like get-up. Penny wears gaudy boots, a floppy tank top, and daisy duke shorts. The denim is sucked up as she struts into the room- chopped hair whisking behind her clumsy strides.

I feel my heart sink. I want to jump over that bar counter, hoping that she doesn't know I'm there. So, I turn my chin away and watch from the corner of my eye. She surveys the room, and she knows I'm there. Because this place isn't her vibe either, my gut tells me she's here because I'm here.

Hart recognizes her too. I can see his expression change as he looks at me in a silent discussion about who it is and what we should do. But before I could do anything, Penny makes her way to the counter. She is as close to me as she could get.

My ex leans over the counter suggestively to order her drink before turning to me to ask, "Come here often?"

I pull myself away, "Penny, what are you doing here?"

"Having some fun! What about you?" She answers suspiciously nonchalantly and through already drunken slurs.

I roll my eyes, "You're already drunk. Did you follow me?"

She laughs hoarsely.

I feel violated. This isn't what I expected of the day, and here I am, stuck in a situation that I can't break free of. Stocking- it's foul no matter who does it, no matter the intent.

"This isn't right," I say with intent to justify what I'm thinking, "You gotta stop this. It's over, we are done..."

"Whoever said I was here for you?" She hisses as she staggers away from the countertop.

Hart comes to me with a bitter expression, "I'm sorry, you wanna head out?"

"No, it's okay," I answer as I watch her clumsily wobble. But, as much as I'd prefer to leave, I can't let her continue to step in and push my life around.

Her presence is near inescapable. Every time I move, she follows like a shadow. There is no reasoning other than to torment. Having a good time around the constant nuisance is nearly impossible despite the others not understanding what's going on. So I have to stay strong even though my mind is telling me to break.

Just then, the lights of the bar start turning on and off. An announcement plays over the loudspeaker, "Ladies and gentlemen, we have a treat for ya'll tonight. This little lady… what's your name?"

"Penny," she answers.

"Penny is going to take on ol'Duke. Come on and join us!" He finishes.

I feel a flush of warmth wipe over my face. A stunt is not a stunt without Penny dipping her toe into chaos. With everyone excited and rushing over to the mechanical bull, I have to join them.

The announcer is going wild with drunk jokes as Penny tries to mount the bull. There's a part of me that pity's her but not enough to keep me from nerves over what she might do.

Finally, she totters herself on top of the machine, and it starts. Just like you'd expect, the announcer controls the beast immaturely, knowing full well Penny is plastered and in no position to be anything but the butt of a joke.

Penny gets cocky with her ride. She takes her cowboy hat off to swing it around in her free hand. As soon as confidence shows, the announcer takes the opportunity to fling her off. Then, she splats on the floor just a few feet away, and the crowd collectively winces after the thud.

She peeks up and looks me straight in the eye, "Like the show, cowboy?"

I turn away quickly before she can get up and continue to sneer. Then, just as I think the pestering will stop, she comes to me with a karaoke song from the 80s. The lyrics are just as harassing as the rest of her show. Penny sings to me, not the crowd, as others start to realize this isn't just some random coincidence. With each word, she gets closer. I can smell the alcohol on her breath with every offbeat phrase.

Once the gig is over, I pull her aside. I'm enraged and unable to accurately present a case against her as she's done nothing wrong to anyone unaware. So instead of cursing her out, instead of losing my cool, I ask her a simple question, "What is it that you want from me?"

She stops provoking for the first time to answer, "I don't know…."

"We can't do this." I answer lowly, "We can't try to hurt each other as we move on."

"But," She pouts, "We don't have to move on."

"We do," I answer.

She starts to cry, so I welcome her into a hug that she seems to need.

"No, we don't," She impishly replies.

"Look," I peel her back to look into her shaky, drunken gaze, "I care about you, I always will, but you need to get help. To move on, live, be free, and happy. Please."

She nods.

"Can you get home?" I ask.

She nods again with tears in her eyes.

I observe as she leaves to get into a cab.

I turn back to my group full of remorse, who I'm sure know every last bit of gossip Penny brought to the bar. I wanted to impress these people, and it feels terrible knowing their perception of me must be the opposite.

Hart steps out from the group to pull me aside. We make our way away from the bustling recruits, obnoxious on their own.

"How are you doing? That ex-girl of yours is a piece of work." He breaks the awkward silence with comments that feel like ripping off a Band-Aid.

"I know." I pause, "She doesn't seem like she's in a good place."

"No, she really doesn't." He answers quickly.

I take a deep breath and observe the recruits, "They probably think I'm a fool. You're going to have to come out of retirement a little quicker than you thought."

Hart laughs, not at my joke but at me.

He answers, "Is that what you're worried about? I'll bet they won't even remember where they were tomorrow morning, let alone some girl who had a few too many drinks before making a fool of herself."

His words of wisdom always help. I nod as if it will ease the ability to speak my following statement, "I don't know what I'm going to do without you."

The sides of his mustache raise again before he speaks, "If today proved anything, it's this; you're ready. Whether you think so or not… you are ready. In the face of personal adversity, you took the high road. No advantage to you, and you still moved through with a head on your shoulders. I wouldn't have given this job to anyone I didn't trust would react the right way under all odds."

And just like that, the agony and embarrassment fade away. Whether the lesson came from Hart, Penny, or something else, there was a lesson wrapped up in the night and one that made a more significant impact than I'd ever guess.

"Do you think you're ready?" He asks.

I reply confidently, "I am ready."