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Eric finally went down with a whimper.By now the older man was breathing a little heavier. He looked over at the table of guys who had put Eric up to the confrontation."This dumbass isn't smart enough to do this on his own. Which one of you assholes put him up to it? I'd like a word with that individual."He started walking across the floor, idly popping the magazine across his thigh. They all looked at Tom, the ringleader, and realizing he had been made, he turned and fled out the door, the magazine hitting him in the head before it swung closed.The bartender was helping Eric up, telling him loudly he and all his friends were barred permanently, and not to ever come back. Ghost hadn't even stopped, calmly walking through the door and into the night.I glanced down and saw the magazine, and picked it up. The Smithsonian, a little highbrow for this crowd.Two weeks later I stepped out of my car. It was pouring rain, matching my mood."Great" I thought, "just great. I'll look like a. She placed her hand on my head, rubbing lightly, I flung it away, still unable to deal with what I knew. She rose silently, and went upstairs. ++++++ The next week was very tense. I said as little as possible to Sally, I responded to her attempts at conversation with monosyllabic grunts. The children seemed uneasy, and yet unable to place a finger on the problem. I turned the problem over in my head again and again, allowing it to percolate on the back burner. I was conflicted, without proof of a transgression. Friday rolled around. I arrived home from work later than normal, as I had been doing all week. I found her in my easy chair, I sat at the end of the sofa. ‘Jeff,’ she said softly, ‘you’ve been different this week. Is there something going on I should know about?’ I said nothing. She took my hand and squeezed it, I allowed it, loving the feel of her skin more than I hated what I knew. ‘Have I done something?’ she probed. I sighed, a deep, shuddering hurt. The fight was gone, I.
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