Anger Management Ch. 01

Author's note: Whenever I'm in a crowded public place, I enjoy people-watching. Sometimes, I will make up a back story for a particularly interesting person. If I'm at the airport, for example, I may imagine where that person has been or where he or she is going. I'll create a personality for them, and a life story to explain how they got to be in the place they are at that moment. This story is an example of that mental exercise.

Although this is (very) loosely based on a real-life person and a real-life event, any similarities between the characters and events of this story and their real-life counterparts are purely coincidental. This is merely my attempt to explain how this person came to be the way he is. This is a two-part story. By the time you read this, I will have already submitted the second chapter. Enjoy!

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Dave Patterson marched along the darkened walkway toward the front door of his home with his head down. He was so distracted by the tempest of thoughts and emotions swirling in his head that he nearly collided with his wife, Jessica, who was hurrying out the door. He stopped in his tracks and looked at her, dumbfounded.

She hefted a large suitcase in one hand and held her car keys in the other. Their thirteen-year-old son, Bryce, followed closely behind, wheeling another suitcase behind him. His younger sister, Haley, appeared behind him. As confusing as it was to see this unannounced exodus, Dave was further perplexed by the expression on his wife's face. She appeared surprised to see him; but more disturbing than that, she seemed fearful.

"Bryce," she said without looking away from her husband, "bring your sister to the car, please."

"Come on, Haley," Bryce responded. He looked up at his father sheepishly and reached for his sister's hand.

"What is this?" Dave asked. "Where are you going?"

Jessica watched as the children made their way toward the car. She nervously peered around their neighborhood before responding. "We're leaving. We're going to stay with my parents."

"What? Why? For how long?"

She swallowed hard. Her eyes began to shimmer. "I know what you did...to Dylan."

Her words seemed to steal his breath. "What? How?"

"He called me."

"That lying son of a bitch. He gave me his word."

"He wanted to warn me. We can't stay here, Dave. You've become so angry and violent, and I'm afraid of what you might do...to me and the kids."

"What? I've never lifted a finger toward you! And you think I'd ever hurt our kids?"

"After what I just heard, I don't know what you're capable of anymore," she said. The tears were now streaming down her cheeks. "You promised me your anger and violence were a thing of the past."

"Yeah, well you broke some promises, too, remember?"

She nodded and sobbed. "I know. And I'm beginning to learn that you will never let me forget it."

She pushed past him and hurried to her car, leaving Dave standing at the front door. He closed his eyes and slowly counted to ten, willing the rage to subside. How did it get to this point? It was all because of that fateful fucking day more than a year earlier.

***

It was a day that seemed like any other. Dave sat with his feet propped up on his desk, sipping coffee from his favorite mug.

"Hey, Carla," he barked from across the room. "Why do vegetarians give good head?"

Carla shook her head and groaned. "I don't know, Dave. Why?"

"Because they're used to eating nuts."

The punchline elicited another, louder, groan. It seemed as though her co-worker had an endless supply of lame dirty jokes. He enjoyed nothing better than picking on her, especially when it came to her strictly vegan diet. Although he gave an intimidating first impression, she surmised rather early in their working relationship that he was a harmless giant. Working in tight quarters in the mobile office meant they had little choice but to get along.

"Did you send that report yet?" she asked.

"Haven't gotten around to it," he responded. He took a bite from a donut and washed it down with a swig of coffee.

"Dave, we need those numbers. You know Bernie's been waiting—"

Her sentence was interrupted by a rumbling beneath their feet. The items on their desks shook, as did the papers tacked to the walls. Books and office supplies fell off the shelves and tumbled to the floor. The entire office shook on its foundation. After a while, the rumbling gradually ceased.

"What the fuck was that?" Carla asked.

"We're not doing any blasting today," Dave noted.

A panicked voice loudly interrupted from the walkie-talkie sitting on his desk. "Dave, you gotta get down here!"

He picked up the device and spoke into it. "What's happening?"

"Sector 7-G!" the voice shouted. "The entire fucking tunnel collapsed!"

"Fuck!" Dave shouted. He snatched his hardhat from the wall and hurried out the door while shouting into the walkie-talkie. "Anyone inside?"

"Three of them," the voice answered. "I think. They just started the shift."

"Who?"

"Harrison, Doyle, and Franks."

"Fuck."

By the time Dave arrived at the scene, several miners had gathered around the site of the collapse, frantically removing stones and shouting into the tunnel, hoping for a response. Dave ran toward an excavator and slid behind the wheel. He was able to move several large boulders out of the way, but feared removing any more would cause another collapse.

"Can we get some fucking light in here?" he shouted. It was pitch-black by the time the ground shook. He instantly regretted volunteering for the overnight shift that week.

They worked throughout the night. There was no sign of life inside the tunnel. By the time the sun rose, local camera crews began setting up at the scene. Dave pushed them out of the way when the remote-controlled earth mover arrived. He supervised while the machine carefully extracted several large stones. Jessica arrived later that afternoon with a cooler filled with food and drinks and a change of clothes.

"How's it going?" she asked, tentatively.

Dave shook his head. He looked as though he hadn't slept in weeks. "Not good, Jess. There's no way anyone survived that collapse. They were too deep inside."

She reached up and rubbed his shoulder. "Did you—do you know them well?"

"Yeah," he said. "Good guys. Mostly."

"What are their names?"

"Jim Franks, Bill Doyle, and Dylan Harrison."

She gasped and looked away.

"Do you know any of those guys?" he asked.

"No," she said, swallowing hard. "Do you think you'll be home tonight?"

"Not until we get some answers here. Thanks for bringing my stuff. Tell the kids I love them and I'll be home soon."

He kissed her sweetly before returning to his work. The first body wasn't found until the following morning. It took all day to extract Bill Doyle from the rubble. As the Underground Manager, Dave was given the unenviable task of notifying Bill's wife and children, who were camped near the mobile office. He delivered the news as calmly as possible, but was visibly shaking by the time he left the family and headed to the office couch for a quick nap. His father would have been proud that he didn't shed a single tear.

The body of Jim Franks was found inside of the telehandler the following day. By then, any hope of finding Dylan Harrison alive had faded and the morale of the rescue workers reached its lowest point. It became too unsafe to press on any further, so the workers blasted a new tunnel across from the main decline, and then began to dig across to the front of the telehandler. With each blast, rocks were dislodged quicker than they could be cleared.

"We're risking another collapse," the foreman warned.

"Fuck it," Dave responded. "We both know it doesn't matter anymore. At this point, we just need to get that kid's body out of there so his family can start the grieving process."

When the blasting ended and enough debris had been removed, Dave and the foreman entered the newly-created tunnel and shouted for a response. It wasn't until their third shout that they heard a faint and muffled reply.

***

"Rescue workers at the Bakersfield Mining facility in Epping, Nevada, made an incredible discovery today," the newscaster intoned. "A miner by the name of Dylan Harrison was found alive inside of the collapsed mine shaft known as Sector 7-G. The tunnel collapsed when a 5.4-magnitude earthquake struck nearby Fairview on April the 25th. Rescuers have worked around the clock since then. Tragically, two miners, James Franks and William Doyle, perished in that horrible accident."

***

"Daddy!" Haley shouted as her father strode through the door. He bent to a knee and she leapt into his arms. "Ugh, Daddy, you smell terrible!"

He laughed and squeezed her tightly. "Well, if I smell like I've been crawling around inside a hole for a week, it's because I have!"

"I missed you," she said.

"I missed you, too, little bug."

Jessica appeared at the entry to the kitchen, looking more beautiful than he had ever remembered. Even wearing her ratty blue apron, she looked like an angel. "Dinner is almost ready," she said. He strode across the room and kissed her firmly.

"Eww!" Haley squealed.

"Go tell your brother supper is ready," Jessica said. While Haley skipped down the hallway, she stood on the tips of her toes and kissed her husband again.

When Bryce appeared at the dinner table, he was admonished by his mother to put his video camera away. He brought it with him everywhere he went, and spent most of his time posting videos to YouTube. "You know your father hasn't been home for a week, right?" she asked him.

Bryce shoved a fork full of potatoes into his mouth and said, "Oh yeah, how's that mining thing going?"

Dave shook his head. "That mining thing is going just fine now. We found one of the miners alive today. Did you hear?"

"Cool," Bryce responded.

Dave had a difficult time relating to his son. They didn't share any common interests, nor did Bryce seem to have any motivation to succeed in life. Whereas Bryce lacked direction, Dave's age-thirteen year was a defining time in his life. He watched his son absent-mindedly play with the food on his plate and reflected on that time in his life when he was around the same age.

***

"Hey, fatass! You heard what Mr. Kelly said! Move it!"

At age twelve, Dave hated gym class more than any other subject taught in school. He had no love for any subject, but he especially loathed gym class because of the ritual it entailed after class had ended. He had always been a chunky kid. By the time he hit puberty, he had ballooned to such an unhealthy proportion that his father insisted he go on a diet. His mother, however, disagreed, and surreptitiously continued feeding him the way he had always been fed.

Not only was Dave much larger than the average kid at his school, but he was odd-looking. He had greasy black hair, beady eyes, and a large, flat, nose that was the source of endless mockery from his classmates. Despite his size, he was routinely harassed both in and out of the classroom. His father, a giant of a man himself, made no secret of his shame for his son, and often berated him for getting beaten up by smaller kids.

With his sagging breasts and protruding belly, the last thing on earth he ever wanted to do was get naked in front of other kids. It was his middle school's policy, however, that all boys must shower after gym class. He could almost endure the ridicule and mockery about his weight, but what he feared most was exposing his penis.

Not only was did his penis seem to be half the size of the other boys', but he would get an erection at the most inconvenient moments. More often than not, when gym class would end, and the boys would all undress at their lockers and head to the showers with towels in hand, his penis would be stiff as a board.

He couldn't explain why it happened. He rationalized to himself that it was merely bad timing or warm air or some other factor completely unrelated to his being naked in front of other naked boys. He knew he wasn't a homosexual. If he were, his father would disown him - right after beating him to a bloody pulp. Regardless of why it happened, hiding his erection from his classmates became a weekly source of anxiety.

He stripped down at his locker and peered around the room before quickly dropping his underwear and covering himself with a towel. He usually waited until everyone had cleared the showers before entering, but on that day, his gym teacher, Mr. Kelly, seemed to be in a hurry. Unfortunately for everyone, Mr. Kelly took the school's shower policy very seriously. He would set a lawn chair in front of the showers and check names off of his clipboard as each student entered the shower.

Dave waddled past Mr. Kelly and into the shower area. It was a large open space with shower heads along three of the walls. Dave had made it a habit to simply stand around the corner, holding his towel in front of him, splashing some water on his face, and then swiftly exiting as soon as possible. On this occasion, however, Joey Rombola and Frankie Zimbone decided they weren't going to let Dave get away with that.

"Hey, Mr. Kelly!" Joey shouted. "Patterson isn't showering! He's just standing there like a pussy!"

"Watch your mouth, Rombola!" Mr. Kelly responded. "Patterson, drop the towel and get under the water. We don't have all day."

Reluctantly, Dave turned his back to his classmates, hung his towel on the peg on the wall, and turned on the faucet.

"That's a good piggy!" Frankie shouted, adding a few sound effects.

"I think piggy's trying to hide something," Joey said.

"Yeah, maybe he's ashamed of something."

"Maybe he has a tiny pecker," Joey guffawed.

Dave covered his private parts with his hand, which only stimulated him further.

"Hey, what's he doing over there?" Frankie asked. "Mr. Kelly, I think Patterson is jerking off, sir!"

"Okay, that's enough!" Mr. Kelly said, standing from his chair. "All three of you are done. Get out of there."

Dave quickly grabbed the towel, but it snagged on the hook and dropped to the floor. He snatched it up and hastily covered himself, but it was too late.

"Holy shit!" Frankie cried. "Did you see that? He's sporting a woody! Hey, Patterson, you like what you see?" He performed a little naked dance, prompting Joey to double over in laughter.

The rumor instantly spread throughout the school that Dave was a homosexual who got excited watching his naked classmates in the locker room. As unpopular as he had been before, this rumor made him several times less popular. The number of beatings in the hallways and outside of the school property increased tenfold.

For a while, it seemed as though he would never escape his classmates' ridicule. But then a funny thing happened between the ages of twelve and thirteen. He grew six inches in height over that summer. A lot of the fat he was carrying turned to muscle when his father bought a weight-lifting set and showed him how to use it. By the time he returned to school in the fall, he looked like a different person.

The first time a classmate called him a faggot in the hallway, Dave hit him so hard, he knocked out two of his teeth. That earned him a two-week suspension. Both Dave and his father punishment was worth the crime. After his second suspension, he learned to take his fights outside of school property. By then, however, he rarely needed to fight anymore. When he walked down the hallway, the students cleared a path.

By the time he entered high school, he was so large and imposing that he attracted the attention of both the football and wrestling coaches. He had no interest in wrestling. The idea of rolling around on the floor with another guy would certainly re-stoke those old rumors. He wasn't athletic enough to play any of the skilled positions in football, but found that he enjoyed hitting people and not getting in trouble for it. He played nose tackle with such ferocity that he won all-state honors in his junior and senior years.

One day, after football practice, he met a girl named Melanie. She was a heavy-set girl who carried much of her weight in her breasts. She wore glasses, dressed oddly, and seemed painfully shy. As she took the advanced courses, their paths hadn't crossed often until the day he found her surrounded by a group of jocks in the corner of the gymnasium.

"No, seriously, tell us," one of them said to her. "What are we talking here? Double-D's Triples?"

"Dude, her bra must have been made by NASA!" another said. "Those things are as big as the moon!"

They didn't see Dave approach them from behind. He let his presence be known by lifting one of them off the floor by the back of his underwear, eliciting a high-pitched squeal. He tossed him to the floor like a rag doll and moved on to the next, which he grabbed by the collar and slammed against the wall.

"If I see you scumbags harass this girl again, I'll kick you in the nuts so hard you'll be pissing out your asshole!" he growled.

Needless to say, they never bothered her again. It was the beginning of his lifelong friendship with Melanie.

***

Bryce and Haley cleared the table after dinner while Dave washed dishes at the kitchen sink. Jessica gently touched his shoulder and directed him away from the sink.

"You've done enough work for the day," she said with a smile. "Go relax."

"You worked all day, too," he said.

She kissed him softly on the lips. "I got this."

Dave turned to find Bryce standing in the kitchen doorway with his video camera pointed at him. He waved him away and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator before settling into his favorite chair in front of the television. Jessica joined him shortly thereafter and sat on his lap.

"How's it going with the rescue?" she asked.

He took a swig of beer before responding. "The kid is trapped in the basket at the end of the teleloader. He's lucky as shit that he just happened to be there when the quake hit. He's surrounded by steel mesh. It should hold up while we dig. We just have to be really careful, as the whole area is unstable."

"Wow," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "How did he survive in there for four days?"

"Groundwater seeped in through the rocks, and I guess the kid had an energy bar in his pocket."

"Wow," she repeated. She caressed his chest through his shirt. "How are you holding up? The past few days must have been so stressful. I can't even imagine."

"I'm fine," he shrugged. Try as she may, she could never seem to get him to open up to her. His father had taught him that expressing your emotions isn't manly.

"If you need a little stress relief, I could help with that," she said. Her hand slid down his chest to his crotch.

He chuckled. "I'm gonna take you up on that. But first, how about another beer?"

She smiled and rose from the chair to head to the kitchen. When she returned with a fresh can of beer, she saw that he was engrossed in typing on his cellphone. She placed the can of beer on the table next to him and sat on the couch beside him. She watched as a smile came over his face. He typed another message and set the cellphone aside to grab his beer.

"Thanks," he said, cracking open the can. Jessica nodded and forced herself to smile.

***

"How are you holding up, kid?" Dave asked, speaking into a PVC pipe. Overnight, workers had drilled a hole just big enough for the pipe, allowing them to communicate as well as provide the trapped miner with food and water.

"I'm okay," Dylan replied. "You know, under the circumstances."

Dave chuckled. "Yeah, I know it's gotta suck in there."

"I've never been claustrophobic, but I think I'm starting to be."