Bernard still has no clear idea of what happened in the restroom. He had been standing with Marissa's purse, expecting her to come out. Knowing that she would want to leave immediately when she got back. He had his eyes on the direction of the place she had departed from when he heard it.
The girlish squeal
The fact that he had realized instantly that the voice didn't belong to Marissa hadn't stopped him from leaping from his spot and rushing to the place where the sound had come from. True enough, it had been from the restroom. He saw some ladies scurrying out of the restroom as a bouncer entered, and one female waitress entered a few steps before Bernard.
What he saw when he entered would have been funny if not for the fact that he was directly in the middle of the occurrence. He saw his wife standing over Ms. Robinson, who was on the floor, writhing in pain as she held her hand to her bloodied nose. Bernard could see that she had split lips as well, and they were stained with blood, or so he thought, as the heavy red lipsticks made it impossible to tell which one was the blood and which one was the paint.
She was shouting profanities at Marissa, calling her ugly names, while the latter stood still, looking down at her with her hands fisted at her side, like she wouldn't mind decking her again.
"That bitch hit me!" Ms Robinson shouted as she saw the bouncer follow the waiter in. "She broke my nose!"
"I did not even touch your nose, you liar! It was your crazy mouth that I punched. Blame no one if you have a weak face, idiot," Marissa replied before turning to the approaching bouncer. She saw Bernard behind the bouncer and averted her face as she faced the towering mass of muscle before her.
"Kick her ass out!" Ms. Robinson was shouting as the waiter helped her up. "I want her kicked out or I will sue this shitty hole after suing that bitch that dared to put her hands on me." She was checking herself out in the mirror, so she didn't realize that Bernard had entered as well.
"Miss. A no-violence poster was pasted at the door, and that goes for everyone," the bouncer said in a booming voice that had a few of the onlookers leaving the restroom. "Who started this fight?" The bouncer asked, looking around, but the onlookers averted their eyes while some merely shrugged.
"What question are you asking again, you buffoon?" Ms Robinson shouted at him as she swiped wads of tissue paper that someone had handed her over her bruises "Can't you see my face? Of course, the bitch started it. She attacked me!"
Maam, you will mind your tone with me."
"Or what? Or what now, you idiot?"
"I hit her first. She deserved it," Marissa said simply, sounding weary.
"Did you hear...?"
"What is going on here?" Bernard said as he stepped forward.
"Sir," the bouncer started, but Ms. Robinson rushed forward with tears in her eyes.
"Oh my God, Ben, your wife went berserk, and she hit me! See? Look at my mouth," she pouted prettily, or at least as prettily as one can pout with split lips. "Just take a look at how she attacked me. I was only trying to be helpful, but she just went off on me," she cried as tears fell from her eyes.
Marissa rolled her eyes to the ceiling and passed them as she went to the sink to wash the red lipstick off her hands.
"Do you have this under control, sir?" the bouncer asked Bernard.
"Yes, we are good here. Thanks, man," Bernard replied to the man.
The bouncer nodded, then turned to the spectators and said, "Okay, let's move it, ladies. There's nothing to watch here. The main entertainment is on the main floor," he said as he herded them out.
They grumbled, and some called him a spoilsport, but they left.
Ms. Robinson was still whimpering, Oh, my lips. I might end up having stitches. Can you imagine how ugly my lips would look if they were stitched up? Oh, my sensuous lips," she was sobbing while hanging on to Bernard's arms.
"Sweetheart, what happened?" Bernard asked, and Ms. Robinson answered again.
"I told you she... oh her," she said when Bernard leveled a look at her.
"Rissa?" he said again when she just fixed her eyes on the mirror without saying anything.
"I am sure you heard me correctly when I told the bouncer that she deserved it, right? That is all I am going to say about the matter. Now if you are through with theatrics 101, I need to leave." She turned from the mirror and gave him a defiant look.
"Did you hear that? I have never seen this kind of insolence before," Ms. Robinson said in an outraged whisper, all while hanging on to Bernard's arm. "I think I am going to faint."
Bernard ignored her.
He knew that Marissa wouldn't just hit someone unless she had been greatly provoked, and he was about to say that, but he had just said, "You wouldn't..." when Marissa narrowed her eyes at him and said:
"If you are about to ask me to say sorry to this... this thing! Then you must be out of your mind! I am doing no such thing!" She said it vehemently.
"Of cour…" Bernard couldn't continue when two pairs of eyes narrowed at him.
He was about to say, Of course not, but then he couldn't take any more of Ms. Robinson's screeching or pitiful whimpers. Marissa had made her stance known that she didn't give a damn about what he had to say anyway, so he shut his mouth.
"Let's take her to a clinic so they can check out her cuts," he said when he realized that she was still bleeding, that patches of tissue paper that had snagged in her wound had been soaked with blood again, and that the crimson was spreading over her mouth.
"You do that," Marissa said as she approached them where they were standing. She intended to pass them as she said, "I am going home; take her to the hospital and then take her home with you."
Bernard snagged her arm before she passed through. Marissa, please," he said.
"I am not..."
"Please, babe," Bernard repeated.
"You can drop me off at home on your way to the clinic, but I am not going with her to any clinic, okay? Can't she take herself to a clinic? Isn't she here with her car?"
Bernard looked at Ms. Robinson in question, and she quickly shook her head, wincing slightly as she said, "No, I did not bring my car. I took a cab. Have compassion, Marissa. At least the least you can do after busting my lips is to help me get it stitched up."
"Keep my name off your mouth!" Marissa said, levelling her finger at the woman as she glared at her.
Marissa huffed as she saw Ms. Robinson throw her a triumphant look as she moved closer to Bernard.
"How blind can the man be?" she thought in exasperation. "Can't he see that the woman is pretending?"