Hi, my name is Simon, and I have anger issues.

I thought I had mastered them, but it appears I had only suppressed them. As a child, I had had court mandated anger management therapy, and medication, but that was all behind me now, the records sealed.

I had always been a fighter. Growing up as the runt of the litter in a family of 6 kids will do that to you.

My parents were hard-working folk, salt of the earth but great advocates of the ‘spare the rod and spoil the child’ school of parenting and so beatings, whilst not common and probably, if I’m honest, not undeserved were a part of my growing up. It happened to all us kids. Even the girls. If we stepped out of line, we got a painful reminder and put back into line sharpish.

We kids would also fight. Being the youngest and the smallest I often ended up on the bottom of the pile, and so had to rely on my wits, and dirty tricks to prevail. I got so good at it that my older brothers were wary of picking a fight with me one on one, but we still scrapped and squabbled as siblings do.

I’m making it sound like I was in an abusive household, which is far from the truth. We all loved each other and if anyone messed with any of my family, they would answer to me. The same went for any of us. But within the family, we had the normal issues a family, on a low income who are struggling to make ends meet, face.

Let me introduce my family.

Ma, whose real name was Mary-Beth, but I would never have, even now, dare to use it was a striking woman. Thin as a whip with a hard countenance and thin face. She ruled the roost and was the person most likely to deliver punishment. Even Pa got out of her way when she was riled. She kept the house and looked after us kids, but also worked mornings doing cleaning for the more upmarket houses at the other end of the town. I never saw that woman sit down. She was always on the go.

Pa, real name Daryl, was not a particularly big man, 5”10’ I would estimate but by God he was strong. There was nothing that man could not move. He worked as a mechanic at the local haulage yard, maintaining their fleet of trucks. He would occasionally drive as well if they were short of drivers and it was a rare but much sought-after privilege to go out on a trip with him. They were usually fairly local trips, but never overnight. My overriding memory of him was the smell. He always smelled of diesel and farts.

Bella was the eldest child. And eight years older than me

Then came Tom, and James – twins who were six years older

Then David was four years older.

Mary was supposed to be the last, they decided they wanted another girl and went for it. They were blessed with Mary only twelve months after David. That was going to be the finish of their family. Fate, however, had other ideas and a drunken fumble and a badly inserted diaphragm led to my birth three years later.

Don’t get me wrong. Despite my being a ‘mistake’ I was not treated any differently or loved any less than any of my siblings. But I did grow up a little apart from them, and spent a lot of time on my own playing and exploring the woods at the back of our property.

So, to the incident that caused me to fall foul of the courts.

I was thirteen at the time and was on my way home from school.

As I believe I already mentioned we were not rich. Actually, we were dirt poor and because of this, we were often the butt of jokes and bullying. My brothers had run this gauntlet but after Bella’s first two years, there were always siblings to support them. Bella had Tom and James, and they had each other, and then when David joined the school Tom and James were still there and by the time Mary went, David was there to watch her as her older brother.

By the time I went to school, David had left and although Mary was there, as a girl, she didn’t have the presence to protect me. Not that I needed it. Within the first few weeks, I had had several scuffles with older students and firmly convinced my peers that messing with me was a bad idea.

After each fight, I would get sent home with a letter for my parents and would get beaten again for causing trouble. I felt it was unfair but knew better than to complain. It did, however, fuel my rage for the next fight and I fed off it

The thing that finally led to my being expelled from the school and standing in front of a judge happened as I was on my way home from school.

I was walking down the lane about a mile from our house when I heard laughing, and someone crying. As I came around a slight bend in the road I saw a group of four boys, surrounding my sister Mary. They had her school bag and were tossing it back and to, between them. I got closer and heard one of them, presumably the leader, say that she could have the bag back if she were to show them her breasts.

At that point, she froze, and one of the other boys grabbed her from behind. The leader dropped her bag to the ground and closed on her, grabbing her dress at the front and trying to look down it. It ripped and, laughing, he pulled harder all but ripping the top of her dress open to the waist, exposing her small, bra-covered, breasts. She tried to cover herself but the guy holding her had her arms pinned.

I released my rage.

The court was told that the guy who had been holding Mary would have to have reconstructive surgery to his face. One of the other boys would have both his arms in plaster for 6-8 weeks and the leader, the one who had ripped her dress, would never be able to have children. The other boy who had run off and summoned help told how I had attacked them without provocation, but Mary’s story and the evidence of her bruises and torn dress mitigated things for me somewhat.

Even so, the prosecuting counsel branded me a ‘Savage’, unpredictable and dangerous person and that what I had done to those poor innocent boys was beyond the reasonable defense of my sister, even were her story to be true.

The court agreed and I was placed in juvenile detention until my eighteenth birthday and, as I said, had to undergo mandatory anger management therapy.

Prior to my being led away my family was allowed to say goodbye to me. I stood shamefacedly as Ma regarded me levelly. I could never tell what she was thinking. Then I saw something I had never seen before. A tear rolled down her cheek. She embraced me hard and whispered in my ear that she was proud of me. I, who had been expecting a rebuke, was stunned. I got hugs from Pa and the rest of my family, and even a kiss on the cheek from Beth and Mary, who lingered longest. They each told me how proud they were of how I had protected my sister.

The facility that I was taken to was halfway across the state, so I never expected any of them to come and visit me. Juvie was hard but manageable. My life so far had prepared me to look after myself and after a few tussles with the so-called bosses, they learned that it was easier to leave me alone. That isn’t to say I didn’t get picked on or get into fights, I did, but the beatings I delivered gained me enough respect to be left alone.

There was only one person who thought that a young, slim, blonde boy might make a tasty morsel and I woke one night to find him kneeling on my chest trying to force his dick into my mouth. Since his legs were on my arms and my legs were pinned by the bedclothes, I had few options but to turn my head and sink my teeth into his thigh, tearing out a huge chunk of flesh and spitting it out, blood running down my face.

His screams brought the screws, and they separated us, dragging him off to the infirmary and me to solitary.

In my last year of confinement, I was surprised to be told that I had visitors and was taken to the visitor’s room where Beth and a young man were sitting waiting for me.

Bella had grown into a striking young woman, not beautiful, but you could never expect that considering the stock. Her face wasn’t as hard as Ma’s, but she had the same eyes. She regarded me sadly.

The man was called Gerald and apparently was her husband. They had been married a year and he was a traveling salesman. He seemed nice enough but didn’t speak at all.

“Simon,” Bella began “there is no easy way to do this, so I will just come out and say it. There was an accident at home. There was a fire. Ma, Pa, and the others,” At this point tears filled her eyes and she started to sob “they are all gone!!”

She threw her arms around me and began to sob into my shoulder. Gerald stood by patting her rather ineffectually on the back and murmuring something unintelligible.

I didn’t put my arms around Bella, I sat there just staring, not really feeling anything. Finally, the guards separated us and after about another hour of visiting, Bella and Gerald left. It would be several years before I would see Bella again.

And so, the years of my confinement passed. Twice weekly anger management sessions, supplemented with medication (which I soon learned to cheek and spit out once I was alone) seemed to cure my rage, and on my eighteenth birthday, I was declared fit to be released into society. I got my GED while I was incarcerated, and my record was sealed. I had a clean slate, was given $200 and a bus ticket to the nearest town, and don’t let the door hit you in the ass on the way out.

I didn’t stay in the local town but traded up the bus ticket to go across the state line. Everyone knew that the local juvie disgorged its inmates into the local town so there was no getting away from it. However, when I arrived in Jacksonville Ohio, I had a fresh start. I told people that I had been displaced by the fire that had killed my family and that without family and friends I had decided to try and build a future for myself in a new town. I soon found work in a small auto shop, and a place to stay and started to rebuild my life.

I worked hard. My upbringing would have allowed nothing else, and after a while, I was allowed to do more. I apparently had inherited some mechanical aptitude from Pa and found the work easy and enjoyable. My aptitude was observed, and I was sent on courses eventually day release to school and ended up as a certified mechanic a mere 6 years later. My life was back on track, and I was enjoying myself. The owner of the auto shop, Mike, was only 5 years older than me but had married well. His wife had money and had fronted him the cash to set up the business. I found their relationship a little strange in that when we were alone, he was a great character, full of jokes and not averse to a practical joke. However, when Stephanie was around, he was much more subdued, he always deferred to her.

Stephanie in her turn was beautiful. Two years younger than Mike, she had long auburn hair and bright green eyes. she never failed to turn heads and she flirted outrageously with anyone and everyone. Even me. I found this uncomfortable at first and even spoke to Mike about it, concerned he would think I was trying to muscle in on his marriage. He laughed it off. “She just likes to be the center of attention,” he said.

Three years later tragedy struck, and Mike was killed when a jack collapsed and pinned him under a car. I was out of the shop doing a road test and came back to find the sheriff and the local fire department trying to extricate him. But it was far too late for that.

It was the day after the funeral that his widow came to see me at my apartment. The shop had been closed since the accident, both due to the need for an investigation and out of respect. Mike’s death was ruled accidental, he should have used stands to support the vehicle, but he was rushing to finish a job and took a chance. It surprised me as I had never seen him do that before, but we all take shortcuts from time to time.

“Simon,” she said, “We need to talk.”

I invited her in.

She got right to the point.

“I need you to take over the shop,” she said.

“Wait what?” I asked surprised. “I’m a mechanic. I don’t know anywhere near enough to run a business.”

“Neither did Mike when we met.” she answered “I’m a business major, and I taught him how to run the shop. I’ll do the same for you. The town needs the shop, otherwise folk are going to have to travel miles to get any repairs done. You need the work and I need someone to run the shop. I don’t know anything about repairing stuff. We can do this together. What do you say?”

I thought for a few minutes “How would this work?” I asked.

“As you know, I helped Mike set up the business, so we were partners. He put up some capital and I provided the rest. After you came along he had enough free time to manage the shop as well as just work there so I stepped out and left you, boys, to it. The plan was that we were going to start a family this year,” her eyes filled with tears, and I unconsciously put my arm around her.

She cried quietly for a short while and then made a conscious effort to compose herself.

“What I’m offering is a partnership. I know what Mike has paid you over the years and I also know that you just don’t spend money. I’m guessing you have a bit of a nest egg?” she looked at me enquiringly.

“I have some money,” I said a little guardedly.

“I’m not after stealing your money,” she said laughing a little “I just need you to buy a share of the business to make you a partner. We can then make shares of the business part of your new salary package so over a few years you will own more and more. If you want to eventually buy me out completely, I would be open to that, but I quite enjoy the status of being a part-owner so if you don’t want to then I’m happy with that also.”

“And if I don’t want to be an owner?” I asked.

“I guess I’ll have to find a buyer for it, but I have no idea who that would be nor if they would want to keep you on once it’s sold.” She said sadly “I would hate to have to lose everything. I already lost Mike. Please don’t let me lose the shop and you as well” she pleaded.

“Lose me?” I thought.

“Can I have some time to think about it?” I asked.

“Of course.” she said “I had some papers drawn up for you to look at. If you decide to go ahead, you should get them looked at by a lawyer. Please think about it, I need your help. I know that Mike would not have wanted the shop sold off.” I felt that was a little underhanded, but I also knew she was right. Mike would not have wanted the shop to be sold to an outsider.

An outsider. Wasn’t I an outsider? I had only been in town 9 years. Small-town America considers you an outsider if your grandpappy wasn’t born in the town, so how was I now so accepted?

I thought back to all the people I had met and friends I had made since I came to town. As I had said previously, I worked hard and tried to fit in. It made for an easier life. If I could help someone out I would. I had done multiple favors for the townsfolk, and allied to the fact I worked for Mike, always did a good job on their machines (we didn’t just fix cars), and was always polite and respectful, I seem to have been adopted into the community. I didn’t go out drinking or causing trouble, had a great relationship with the town Sherriff and his deputies, and knew practically everyone by name. This town was now my home.

I had, on a couple of occasions tried to ask girls out, but my complete lack of experience with the opposite sex in my formative years made me awkward around women. There were a couple of older, married, women who, on hearing the rumor that I was a virgin, decided that it was their duty to relieve me of that burden, but I found their behavior predatory and off-putting. I knew how my Ma would have wanted me to behave and even though she was no longer around, her presence in my heart kept me in line.

I looked through the paperwork that Stephanie had left with me, but it didn’t really make a lot of sense to me, so I called one of the friends I had made, Lee Grainger who was a lawyer, and asked him if he would look them over for me.

“I could,” he said, “but since I’m already acting for Stephanie, I would advise that you get independent advice.”

I made the 90-minute trip to Columbus, the following Tuesday. I found the number of a lawyer online and booked an appointment using their online booking form.

I have to say, I didn’t recognize her straight away. It was only when the receptionist in the lawyer’s office came out from behind her desk and threw her arms around me that it clicked. My arms closed around her instinctively.

The sound of a throat clearing behind me broke us apart.

“Jonathon,” the receptionist said to the man glaring across the office at me, “I would like you to meet Simon, my brother.” And that is how Bella came back into my life.

After the initial introductions, I explained to Jonathon, why I was there.

“Tell you what,” he said after glancing at the contract for a second or two. “Bella, why don’t you take Simon back to the house and make him some lunch? Take the afternoon and get caught up. I’ll look through this and I have some other stuff to do. I’ll meet you at home for dinner.”

As we ate lunch Bella told me how her marriage to Gerald, the insurance salesman had lasted only a year after I had seen them. His traveling lifestyle and weeks at a time away from home left her feeling abandoned. She had suspected him of cheating on her while he was on the road, but had never found any proof. When she had told him that she wanted to divorce, he simply shrugged and signed the papers. She moved out a week later and hadn’t seen him since.

She had come into Columbus looking for work six months later and been taken on as a receptionist at this law practice, the previous receptionist had retired.

Over the next two years, her and Jonathon had grown closer, become a couple, and finally married.

She had given birth to her child, Mary a year later. The twins, James and David, followed a year after that. Mary was six, the boys 5, and all 3 would be home from school in about 45 minutes.

We had finished lunch and I was catching Bella up with my life after being released. The door crashed open, and three tornadoes catapulted into the room. They stopped dead when they saw me sitting with Bella, eyes wide and mouths open.

Once we were introduced and I found out I was to be called Uncle Simon, I ended up in the backyard playing catch with the boys. Mary was much more reticent than the boys and sat with her mother watching us.

Jonathon came home after five and handed me the contract.

“Sign it,” he said simply “you won’t get better than what she is offering.”

I thanked him and asked him how much I owed for his work, only to get a slap around the back of my head from Bella.

“Family doesn’t charge family,” she said.

I looked at Jonathon who just shrugged. “I leave our finances in Bella’s hands.”

“Well, I know the shop is quite a distance from here, but that goes true if you need anything I can do for you,” I said.

I took my leave after dinner, It was a 90-minute drive after all, and returned to my apartment clutching the signed contract and ready to give Stephanie the news.

The next day I decided to open the shop. There were still jobs open and people in the town were relying on us to get their machinery up and running again. The hardest job was to finish off the car that Mike had been working on when the jack had collapsed. It wasn’t a difficult job in itself but going under that car, knowing that was where Mike had died gave me shivers.

Stephanie came over just before lunch and I told her the news. She squealed with delight and hugged me, telling me that I wouldn’t regret it and that we would make a really good team.

Over the next two years, we got into a routine.

I would work in the shop, and Stephanie would work in the office. Each week I would spend half a day working with her, learning how to run the business, file all the relevant paperwork, and ensure all licenses and insurances were up to date. Balance the books, and do the taxes. There was so much to learn.

As well as working all day, I would spend a few hours each evening taking online courses, trying to fill the holes in my education.

Every other weekend I went over to see Bella, Jonathon, and the kids. I usually spent the weekend with them, staying over on a pull-out bed. I helped with odd jobs around the house, played with the kids, and got to know my brother-in-law. He seemed like a really nice guy.

One night Stephanie came to the shop as I was locking up.

“Simon,” she said, “We have to talk.”

“Ok,” I said “can I go shower first? I have been rolling around under a tractor all afternoon.”

She nodded at me.

“Go shower, then meet me at my house in an hour,” she said.

I was a little nervous as I rang the bell at her house. I had never heard anything good come from a conversation that started with “we have to talk” and I wondered what was wrong.

A delicious smell greeted me when she opened the door.

“I made us some dinner since I didn’t think you would have eaten yet,” she said.

We sat down to a delicious meatloaf with greens and potatoes. As we were eating she said.

“Simon, I’m not sure that our partnership is working,” she said.

I froze, my loaded fork halfway to my mouth.

“Oh!” was all I could come up with. I wondered what I had done wrong. Perhaps I was just not cut out to be an owner. I had tried really hard to learn all the things I needed to, and I thought I was getting it, but obviously, Stephanie didn’t think so.

“Have I done something wrong?” I asked.

“Well,” Stephanie said, “Not to put too fine a point on it, yes.”

I sighed. “I’m sorry. I thought I was doing ok. It’s just that there is so much to do in the shop. I’m trying to keep up with the work there, and then there is the other stuff. I have been doing courses in the evening to try and learn...”

“And that’s my point,” she said gently. “You are working yourself into the ground. You are already doing more than one man’s job just doing the repairs in the shop, then we are spending time together doing the office work, then you are going home and working in the evening on your courses. When was the last time you had a night off. When was the last time you went out. When did you last get laid???”

It was a good job that I had put my glass of juice down by the time she asked the last question otherwise she might have gotten a face full of it.

I looked down blushing.

She stared at me mouth open.

“Oh. My. God.” She said, “I’d heard rumors, but I thought...”

I started to rise. My embarrassment started to shift into anger.

“Wait, Simon. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. What I was trying to say in my stupid and clumsy way is that I am worried about you. You need some downtime. Aside from when you go over to see your sister you do nothing but work and sleep. Nobody can go on like that indefinitely. You are heading for a crash and as your business partner, I can’t afford that, and as your friend, I am concerned for you.”

I sat back in my seat, my anger and embarrassment leaking away. She was right. I was bone tired. Granted I had increased my share in the garage and business was good, but I was working 12 out of every 14 days, at least 14 hours a day. I worked, went home, showered, ate while working at my computer, and slept. Rinse and repeat.

I couldn’t remember the last time I had done anything just for me.

“Here is what we are going to do. 1, we are going to take on some help in the shop, an apprentice if we can get someone suitable or just a labourer if not. 2, You are going to have at least one day every week off. Even on the weekends you don’t go to Bella’s you are taking at least one day off. 3.You are going to go out socially at least once a week. I don’t care where you go or who you go with, but you are going out.”

As much as I agreed with most of what she was saying, I never liked ultimatums

“Or?” I asked, a hint of a growl in my voice.

She looked at me, her head tilted to one side slightly.

I knew that as the senior partner in the business she would be quite within her rights to sell the business out from under me. But I sensed she knew better than to threaten me.

“There is no ‘or’ Simon,” she said gently “This is not a threat. I guess you could call it an intervention, but I thought that you and I had become good friends. Looking after each other is what friends do.”

I slumped back in my chair, defeated.

“Ok,” I said quietly “I’m not sure about the social thing. I haven’t really dated in” I paused “well I haven’t really dated I guess.”

“What never?” she asked incredulously.

I shook my head.

“You have never been out with a girl?”

Another shake.

“How about a guy?” she asked a mischievous glimmer in her eye.

“I’m not gay,” I said quietly

“Have you ever even asked a girl out?”

“I tried a couple of times when I first came to town.” I said “I crashed and burned. Then I got busy working and it kind of took a back seat. I did get some invitations from some older women, but they were married and my Ma would skin me alive if I got myself involved in someone else’s marriage”

She looked at me confused.

“I thought you said your mother had died...”

“Believe me, being dead wouldn’t stop her. Besides Bella hits just as hard.”

She giggled. “Oh, you poor hen-pecked thing,” she said, but there was a look of calculation in her eye.

“I’ll tell you what. Why don’t I set up a date for you for this Friday? I know someone who has been interested in you for some time but has been scared to ask you out. I’m certain you will like her.”

“Who is she?” I asked. I knew pretty much every person in town, and I couldn’t think of any single woman around my age that had shown any interest.

“Ah,” she said “that would be telling. Pick a place to meet and I’ll get her to meet you there, at, 8 pm on Friday. Since you were at Bella’s last weekend that means this weekend is free, so if the date goes well, you could spend some time together.”

I sat and thought about this for a while.

“What would we do?” I asked. “I don’t drink, I can’t dance.”

“How about a movie” she suggested. “Take her to the pictures. Here’s a tip- let her choose the movie.”

“What if I don’t like her pick?” I asked.

“Then you will have your horizons broadened. You might even learn something. Chick flicks are all about romance. Even if you don’t like the movie, watch and learn from it.”

“Ok. “I said. “Tell ... sorry what was her name?” I thought I might catch her out.

She laughed.

“Nice try. I’ll tell her to meet you at the picture house at...” she consulted her phone for a few minutes “it will have to be 7.30. otherwise, you won’t have time to get tickets before the films start.”

We finished dinner and I helped with the dishes.

As I was leaving, she hugged me.

“Don’t forget Friday at 7.30. Be nice to her. She has had a bad time recently and needs someone nice.”

The rest of the week was taken up with work, more work, and worry. As Friday approached I got more and more nervous.

By four pm on Friday I was so nervous I felt physically sick. Stephanie was in the office working and I kept wanting to go in and ask her to cancel the date.

I was standing, staring at an alternator, I had just reinstalled into a car, before realizing it was the same one I had taken out, the new one still sitting in its box on the workbench.

“Simon” a voice from behind me

I jumped

Stephanie stood there grinning at me.

“Go home, get showered get changed, and get ready.”

“I’m not sure I can...” I began.

“Of course, you can. Believe me, she is just as nervous as you are. But I think she is a lovely woman and you will get on well.”

“But,” I began “I don’t know how to talk to girls. What if I say something to upset her? I’ve never been any good at reading signals, what if I think she likes me and I do something but she doesn’t really and She thinks I’m trying to...” I was starting to panic.

She put her hand on my arm.

“Listen. You will be fine. Everyone has these doubts before a first date, especially before your first, first date. Relax, be yourself, and have fun. Everything else will take care of itself.”

I started to put my tools away prior to locking up for the evening.

“Oh. By the way” she said, “don’t bring flowers.”

“Don’t?” I asked. I had thought that was mandatory on a first date.

“What is she going to do with the damn things in the theatre? You can buy her some candy or popcorn as you go in if you want to get her something.”

I turned to leave.

“How am I going to know her anyway. I can’t just approach random women and ask if they are my date. I’m likely to get arrested.”

“Oh, believe me, you will know her.” She said with a smile. “But she knows you. So, if you are uncertain then just hang back and she will come to you.”

I went home and showered. Then I showered again. Working in an auto shop means that you sometimes get oil, grease, and other motor-related fluids on you, and they sometimes are not keen on coming off. I always wear protective gloves and coveralls, but gloves sometimes rip and coveralls sometimes soak through. And to be honest some of the vehicles we have to deal with are downright disgusting.