Comfortable Madness First PDF 4-13-18

More Trouble
Coy came looking for trouble. He came looking for a fight.
I tried to ignore him. I tried to pretend he wasn’t there. But he was
there. He stood in my way. He put a hand in the middle of my
chest. His buddies snickered.
“Don’t touch me,” I said.
“Don’t touch me,” Coy mocked. “You’re a fat one,” he
said.
I was. I was fat. Thick thighs held broad hips. Hands like
oars hung from heavy arms. I was strong but soft. A target. People
talked about me, mostly behind my back. Coy, though, he wanted
to see my face when he said it. He wanted to see me cry.
I tried to step around him but he slid into my way again. He
pushed his narrow chest into me, his face just inches from my face.
“You smell like pussy,” he said. “Maybe if you shaved that
beard.”
“Leave me alone,” I said.
Still, I touched my chin. Was that roughness whiskers?
Jesus.
Coy’s grin said he saw it and I hated that he saw it.
“Why would I do that?” he asked.
His hand came to my face and I backed away.
“You need to go,” I said.
He offered me twenty bucks for a blowjob. He smelled of
weed and cigarettes. He smelled of hatred and violence. His eyes
bugged from their sockets, froggish and dull. He raised his hand
and I grabbed it. I twisted and shoved, and he fell. He got up and
came after me. I swung. Blood flew and flowed. He dropped to the
floor.
“Jesus,” he said. “Fuck. You broke my nose.”
His face was a mess in his hands. For a moment, I felt
badly for him. But then he stood and started for me. Violence