I am not her - The man with many faces (22.)

They were having fun as if they were in a pub. Who knows if they had been in one before.

The other guests kept looking at them, and some of them even tried to let them know that they weren't alone, including Michael, who was at their table and politely asked them to be quiet, which unfortunately only worked for a moment.

“Gentlemen, I asked you to do something!” Michael shouted, heading toward them again, but this time he was anything but calm. Anna couldn't see his face clearly, but his body language and decisive steps were enough.

 

 

“Oh no!” she cursed quietly. She quickly put down the mug she had been holding and, almost without thinking, grabbed her cane.

“Come on, gentlemen, that's enough, isn't it? This isn't a bar!” She walked over to the table where Michael was now standing and whispering something to the bald man.

Her heart almost stopped when the man looked at her with that gaze.

“Hey, buddy, she's hot!” blurted out the man next to him, who looked the most drunk. “Let's get her...” Whatever the guy wanted to say, he didn't get a chance.

Smack! There was a loud noise in the shop, and suddenly it was as quiet as a grave.

 

*

 

“It'll be swollen, but it was a good hit. That jerk almost fell off his chair,” Michael said, holding ice on her hand.

“When did you become such a violent type, hmm?”

“Times are changing, unfortunately,” she growled in reply, but in reality she was asking herself: Where did that come from?

Was it the anger of unknown origin? Well, okay, there was a reason, but she didn't have the right to punch that man in the eye. He hadn't said anything, at least not anything that warranted a punch. So why did it happen?

“If you hadn't intervened, I would have done it, and he might have ended up much worse,” he said, pressing a black cotton handkerchief wrapped around ice cubes against her hand.

“Why didn't you let me deal with them?” he continued, without taking his eyes off her hand.

There was a silence, during which Anna hoped that a guest would interrupt, because otherwise she didn't know what to do. She couldn't tell him that she had lost her nerve because of everything that had happened. He would think she was completely crazy. 

No, she couldn't.

 

 

The silence continued. The only thing that changed was that Michael was no longer watching her hand, but her. He looked as if he understood everything, but at the same time, a lot was still lost on him.

“We should get to work, and you should check on the little one,” she said, freeing her hand from his grip.

She then got up with the help of her cane. She tried not to notice the pain in her hand. She wanted so badly to run away again, or at least that's what her mind was telling her, but her heart, which had been pounding since Michael touched her hand, was strictly against it. “Thank you, and if possible, you should go,” she continued, hoping her voice sounded firm.

She wanted to leave the table and go back to the counter without looking at him anymore.

 

 

“I'm not going to leave you here.” Michael's tone was uncompromising and so different from what she was used to.

Let's not lie to ourselves, she was taken aback. She quickly glanced at him. He sat in his chair, his face expressionless, his hands folded across his chest.

I should start calling you the Man of many faces, Anna thought but she said aloud...