“Paige,” I turn to the woman sitting down. I motioned to the blonde by my side, holding my hand. “This is Tina Kennard,” I smile fondly at the mother of my newborn son. “The one I was just telling you about. My anger management therapist.”

Both Tina and Paige lift an eyebrow.

“And in her downtime, she’s also my wife.”

Some niceties were exchanged, some small talk was made. After a while, we bid Paige goodbye and I left hand-in-hand with my wife. The moment our old guidance counselor was out of earshot, Tina playfully bumps my shoulder with hers and cocks an eyebrow at me.

“Therapist, hm?”

I shrug and smile. “I think it sounded better than my personal, anger-releasing punching bag.”

“I’m a punching bag?” Tina’s eyebrows rose even higher.

“It was a figure of speech.”

“I’m not a punching bag.” She tells me.

“You’re not.” I agree. “A punching bag remains still. You, on the other hand, punch back.”

“Of course!”

“Cause you’re stubborn like that.”

“…”

“Sorry. I mean, uhm, strong-willed?”

“I’m a fighter.”

“Ouch!” I winced, rubbing the spot near the side of my tummy that she had just playfully punched. “That you are.”

She kisses me lovingly on the cheek before peering behind her shoulder and looking over at our old guidance counselor. “She’s kinda cute.” She gives me an appraising look, a hint of jealousy in her voice.

“Really? I haven’t noticed.” I refuse to meet her gaze. I know she’s testing me.

“You haven’t?”

“Nope.”

“Don’t believe you.”

“I’m sure you don’t.”

“Don’t play coy with me. She’s a cute blonde, I’m sure you paid attention to her looks.”

“Nope.”

“Liar.”

“Baby, I couldn’t have thought she was cute.”

“And why not?”

“I was too distracted by her boobs to think about anything else.”

“…”

“Uh.. I think that came out all wrong..”

If it was even possible, her eyebrows rose even higher. Shit.

“It’s just that.. umm.. her boobs are so big, they overshadowed her face. I mean! Wait.. uh.. they were so huge they suck your eyes in like nipple-y blackholes.”

Umm.. about that bit about Tina being my punching bag? That wasn’t necessarily truthful. I think I was her punching bag – but unlike her, I was one that never fought back. I rolled with the loving punches, laughed, and secretly loved every fucking minute of it.

“Ouch! I’m sorry!”

“So you were looking at boobs again, huh?”

“Ow!” I yelp, but just as quickly, I laughed. We chased each other down the sidewalk like kids, laughing and rough housing like teenagers in love.

This is my life now. I hardly get angry these days, I just laugh. Once upon a time, I had anger management issues. But it’s over and done now. When you’re contented with your life, there’s no room for misplaced anger in there.

I didn’t have to kill the beast, as Alice once said. To manage my problem with my temper, I just had to find someone to tame it.

“Baby, I’m sorry!!”

And tame it, she did.

THE END.