I was definitely stunned from the fall, and my ears were now ringing, so his tirade came at me as a muted string of syllables. Fortunately, I didn’t feel any queasiness or a blackout coming on, so I didn’t think I was truly injured.

However, I just kept sitting there, motionless, letting my rage work as an anesthetic for all the pain, emotional as well as physical.

Ben’s tone ratcheted down the scale from anger to remorse in the span of a single sentence. “Awww, Jeez, Row…Man…What’d ya’ hafta fuckin’ go an’ do that for?!”

I assumed the question was rhetorical, not that I had really intended to answer him if it wasn’t. Still, I couldn’t help but throw one of his earlier comments back in his face.

“I think you know,” I spat.

“Jeezus…Are ya’ okay?” He stepped forward as he spoke, extending his arm and offering me a hand up.

I simply shrugged away from him.

“Row…”

“Fuck you, Ben,” I told him.

“Dammit, Row, this…”

“Get out of my house,” I ordered, my voice a low growl, fully devoid of any compassion. “Just…Just get out of my house.”

He stood there, looking down at me with abject sadness welling behind his eyes. What just happened was something neither one of us was going to be able to fix, at least, not right at this moment. And, the way I was feeling, I wasn’t sure if I ever wanted it fixed. I had a sickening notion that I was going to need every bit of my anger just to get through what was coming, and that was assuming that I was going to make it through at all.

The silent pause continued with us both staring at one another, him pained, me incensed. I allowed it to continue for what seemed a full minute but was in reality probably no more than a scant few seconds.

“You heard me you sonofabitch!” I finally screamed. “Get the fuck out of my house!”