When One Door Opens by JD Ruskin

file in his hands. “A girl sat next to Logan at the bar and started flirting with him. He was too wasted to pay her much mind until her boyfriend showed up.” He paused, his eyes asking if it was okay to continue. Caleb nodded his assent, not trusting himself to speak.
    Dabb didn’t look convinced, but he continued anyway. “The guy took a swing at Logan and Logan tossed him over a five-foot bar and into the glass shelves holding the liquor bottles.” He opened his briefcase and took out an eight-by-ten color photo, plopping it on the couch between them.
    Caleb looked at the photo, unable to touch it, feeling his chest tighten. The picture showed a close-up of a man’s partially shaved head. A long gash held together with more than two dozen stitches ran from the middle of his forehead to the back of his ear. The skin was puckered and angry looking.
    “Logan wasn’t done yet.” Dabb pulled out another photo, showing the smashed shelves and the floor covered in blood, glass, and liquor. “He climbed on the bar to go after the boyfriend. Three guys tried to stop him.” He pulled out a stack of five-by-seven photographs. He laid out the photos like a card dealer, listing off the injuries sustained to the men who tried to prevent Logan from hurting the man further. “Fractured wrist, broken nose, dislocated shoulder, and numerous bruises and cuts.” Logan had been enraged and unstoppable.
    Caleb gathered the photos and handed them back to Dabb. “You’re showing me these because you think he’ll start drinking again and do something to hurt me?”
    “I know this doesn’t feel real that the guy who’s been delivering your mail is capable of doing something like this. But he is. He did.”
    Caleb felt like someone had poured sand down his throat. He took a deep drink from his glass before continuing. “I know how weird it is that checking the mail is more terrifying than having an ex-con bring it to me.” It was the truth. He wasn’t afraid of Logan, even if he should be for more reasons than Logan’s record. He looked at his drink. The glass was cold and slick against his hands; the contents rippled ever so slightly.
    “I’m not judging you. I want Logan to succeed.” Dabb pulled off his glasses and began polishing them with the bottom of his shirt. “I also want to limit the damage if he fails.”
    Caleb swallowed hard, the lemonade feeling like acid churning in his stomach. “What do you want me to do?”
    “I think I should force him to find another part-time job. I think you’d both be better off. I’ll help him find another one.”
    Caleb put his glass on the coffee table, afraid it would shatter in his tightening grip. “If you think that’s best for Logan ,” he said, stressing the name, because he didn’t want Dabb’s pity or his protection. “Then I’ll go along with whatever you decide.”
    “You still want him working for you after seeing those?” Dabb gestured toward the closed file folder. “I won’t hold it against him or you if you want to hire someone else.”
    Dabb was right. It didn’t feel real. He couldn’t imagine the man he had gotten to know over the past few weeks capable of such a brutal attack. Could the booze really change him so much? What if he starts drinking again? He reined in that line of thinking. It wasn’t fair to Logan. “I refuse to be afraid Logan might slip back into bad habits. He’s earned the right for a second chance.”
    Dabb looked Caleb in the eyes for the next few moments, and then he sighed. “Let’s give it a couple of weeks. I’ll look into some prospects for another job in the meanwhile.” He handed Caleb a business card. “Call me if you have any problems.”
    Caleb accepted the card numbly, wondering if he would ever get his own second chance. Not to get his old life back, but a new one. Where he would select his own produce. Eat a hotdog bigger than his head at the ballpark. Go to a movie with a friend. They had seemed like