by T. L. Hayes
After the attack, he had admitted to his brother that he didn’t feel safe in the city anymore and was thinking of coming home, but he was afraid of what their mother would say. Chris had said, “Fuck Mom. You’re my brother and if I want you to live with me you can. She lives across town and never comes over. I have a spare room that I’ve been thinking of turning into a man cave, but you can have it until you can get your own place.”
Bobby hadn’t known what to say. He did something he rarely did—he hugged his brother and thanked him and said he loved him. Obviously embarrassed, Chris had returned the hug and the sentiment. Now, two years later, he was still in his brother’s spare room, working another shitty delivery job, and still no one cared about his music. The only creative outlet he had was the local open mic scene. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to do with his life with regard to his music, but now he knew that whatever he did, he wanted it to include Rachel.
He hadn’t meant to tell her about the attack, at least not yet, maybe not ever. But she was so loving and so understanding, he knew he could trust her with it. He really did feel that he should be over the fear by now, and he was for the most part. Maybe, with her help, he could finally beat it.
He dropped a pizza off at a frat house, and since he was on campus, remembered to text Rachel. Hey, just checking in.
Thank you.
He smiled, then started driving back to the restaurant to pick up his next delivery. Rachel was the first relationship he’d had in two years. After he had moved in with his brother and his body healed, he had gone a little crazy, going out several nights a week, bringing a different person home every night. His brother had teased him about it sometimes, but Bobby knew Chris had been worried. Bobby wasn’t even sure why he was doing it. It wasn’t as if he could fuck his fears away but he had definitely given it a try. As he had told Rachel in the beginning, he had always been safe. He wasn’t stupid. He enjoyed sleeping with both men and women and considered himself pansexual.
Chris had asked him once what pansexual meant.
He’d explained that he didn’t really care about gender or gender identity or biological sex. He just wanted to connect with someone.
“And that’s different from bisexual how?” Chris had asked.
“Well, it mainly has to do with gender identity and expression. Pansexuals don’t care how another person identifies, whether male, female, trans, somewhere in between. Whereas someone who’s bi usually assumes there are only two genders and may not date people in nonbinary categories.”
“You kids and your hip lingo. In my day, you were either gay, straight, or bi.” Chris had just grinned at him and Bobby knew he wasn’t trying to be an asshole.
“That’s because back in your day, you guys were too simpleminded to understand such things.”
“Have you ever considered, little brother, that all these new words aren’t necessary? Doesn’t applying these labels sometimes make you feel like bugs under glass?”
“Only if that bug is a butterfly.”
“Oh, that’s girly as shit.”
“This from the man with a teddy bear tattoo on his left ass cheek.”
“You’d be surprised what you’ll do for a woman, little brother.”
“Too bad that woman dumped your tattooed ass. Anyway, butterflies are cool. They represent metamorphosis. They are one of the symbols of trans, you know?”
They had gone on like that, bantering back and forth. Even though Chris sometimes teased him about terms and other things about his gender identity that he didn’t understand, Bobby knew Chris was the only one in the family who accepted him for who he truly was, even if he didn’t understand exactly what Bobby was going through. The point was he was willing to learn about it and accept it.
* * *
On Wednesday Bobby accompanied Rachel to the training session in his own workout gear. He went through the same first day routine that Rachel had, including learning how to bow and where to stand. He took to the movements pretty easily and was enjoying himself. The only major problem he had was that his binder kept riding up or rolling under in uncomfortable ways and when that happened it was hard to concentrate on the activity at hand.
Unlike Rachel, who claimed she was not attracted to Dr. Silver in the least, he found her quite attractive. Not only was she cute, but she was fierce and he had always found that a heady combination. At least it didn’t distract him so much that he wasn’t able to concentrate.
He thought that, overall, he had been able to kick some serious butt during session and he liked the formality of the whole thing. It appealed to him in a way that working out with weights and swimming never had. Not only was he learning a new skill and getting toned in the process, but he knew that martial arts were meant to teach a person discipline and control, and those were two things he knew he needed to learn. Especially control. Rachel had never seen his temper before, as up to now he’d had no reason to display it, but he had been working on controlling his temper since he was a teenager.
He and his mother used to get into some massive screaming matches, which always ended in him throwing things and her quoting the bible at him. Once he started taking T, he knew it would probably make his temper worse, so he worked on ways to curb it. He had started meditating almost right after his first shot and that helped a lot, that and continuing to see his therapist.
He had initially started therapy because it was required to be approved to take T, but he had kept seeing her to manage the anger issues. He saw his therapist once a week and he still hadn’t mentioned it to Rachel yet, even though, at this point, he figured she would understand.
When the session was over and he and Rachel had bowed to Dr. Silver, Bobby said, “Thanks, Sifu, for agreeing to teach me. You don’t know what it means to me.” Shyly, he inclined his head and almost missed Dr. Silver’s warm smile of affection.
“My pleasure. And I think I have some idea of what it means to you. I’m just glad you’re getting something out of it.”
“Oh, I definitely am. Tell me something…how long did it take you to get this good?”
“If you mean my general skill level, several years. I couldn’t put an exact number on it. If you mean my rank, around ten years. Becoming a master of your craft may seem like a slow process, but it’s well worth it.”
“I can tell. Why don’t you wear your belt when you train us?”
“For the same reason I don’t bring my diplomas to the classroom when I teach—they’re only visual proof of my training and skill level and not necessary to do my job.”
Bobby grinned despite himself. “But I bet it’s a lot cooler than a piece of paper in a frame though, isn’t it?”
Rachel narrowed her eyes at him and he wasn’t sure why.
Dr. Silver smiled. “This is true. Rachel, I’ll see you in class tomorrow and I’ll see the both of you on Friday.”
They exchanged bows, and this time Rachel apparently remembered not to leave first. Once Dr. Silver was out of the room, Rachel smacked Bobby across his chest with the back of her hand, though not too hard.
“Ow. What was that for?”
Rachel’s amusement showed in the laughter in her voice. “As if you didn’t know.”
Amused and confused both, Bobby said, “I really don’t know. Did I do my bow wrong or something?”
Rachel scoffed and shook her head. “Clueless male. If you really don’t know, fine, I’ll break all the rules of girl code and tell you. You were so flirting with her!” Rachel grinned at him and crossed her arms over her chest, then cocked an eyebrow, practically begging him to refute her.
“Wait. What? No, I wasn’t. I was just genuinely curious, that’s all.” Despite his protests, Bobby could feel his cheeks getting hot and he felt caught. He had, in fact, found the professor adorable, but as far as he knew, he hadn’t been flirting.
“Whatever. You are so obvious when you like someone. It’s written all over your face.” She went up to him and took his face in her hands
and gave him a quick kiss, then backed away. “That’s okay, I like that you’re easy to read.”
“I am so confused right now.”
“Good, right where I want you. Come on.” She sighed. “I guess now we have to shower at your place so that you can actually get a shower too.”
They walked to the door hand in hand, and then she stopped him and leaned into him and said seductively, “If you’re lucky, I’ll make you forget all about Dr. Silver and I’ll show you some new moves.”
“Dr. who?” he asked, trying to be just as sexy, but Rachel burst out laughing and he wasn’t sure why. “Now what?”
“Oh, nothing, I’ll tell you later.” She was still laughing as they left. Bobby was more confused than ever.
Chapter Fifteen
The week of Thanksgiving, Bobby was required to work every day except the holiday, as that was the one day that week that the restaurant was closed. He had wanted to go with Rachel to visit her friends. He knew how much it meant to her, but he needed the money and he couldn’t pass up the hours.
Rachel had wanted to stay with him over the holiday, but he had insisted she go and just make sure to call him every night. He promised he would check in with her as much as he could during his shifts, but in truth he didn’t want to intrude too much on her time with her best friend, so he didn’t plan on texting her all that much.
As for Thanksgiving Day, his mother had planned her usual gorge-fest, to which Chris and Marissa had been invited, but not Bobby. Chris wanted to turn down the invitation but Bobby had insisted that he go. There was no reason why Chris should be on her shit list too.
Bobby tried to make it easy for him. “See, this way, you can go and bring back leftovers and she’ll never know they’re actually for me.”
“Fuck, man, if I bring anything back, it’s for me.”
“Suck my dick.”
“No thanks. Never cared much for the taste of silicone. But fine, I’ll go home. Mom has been wanting to meet Marissa. Any message you want me to give her?”
“None that wouldn’t get you smacked, not that I’m opposed to that, but it’s a holiday, so…” Bobby shrugged.
Chris laughed. “Okay. Have fun. Sorry you’re going to be alone on Thursday.”
“I won’t be alone. I’ll have Snoopy and SpongeBob and more marching bands than you can shake a drumstick at.”
“I think that was a pun.”
“Probably.”
So on Thursday morning, Bobby sat in his brother’s living room, eating leftovers from work, watching the parade, his feet up on the coffee table, his phone by his side. Rachel had been texting him since she had gotten up that morning. She sent him a selfie with her best friend, who was gorgeous, but he knew enough to keep that thought to himself. He could see why Rachel had had a major crush on her. He was half in love just from the picture.
Before Chris left, Bobby made him stand still for a picture to send her in return, and his brother had timed it right so that he was kissing Bobby on the cheek just as Bobby had taken the picture. Bobby’s look of surprise had been genuine. The caption he had sent it with was: Make sure you tell them that I’m the good-looking one.
The reply came back: This is Rory. I thought you were the sweet one?
Can’t I be both?
Near as I can tell, you are. Keep it up and you just might win my approval, but I have to meet you before I can grant it fully. Christmas?
Will have to see how work goes. Maybe.
Bobby smiled to think that Rachel’s best friend approved of him. He knew Rory meant a lot to her. He would have to be on his best behavior.
The next day, he was able to sleep in, as he wasn’t required to work until the evening shift. He had agreed to work until close since Rachel was out of town. Besides, the tips were usually better at night, especially on a Friday after a holiday. Most of his money went for his treatment—he didn’t have insurance, so had to pay for everything out of pocket and T wasn’t cheap. At least his car was paid for, crappy as it was.
When Rachel learned that he was working the late shift again, she told him, in no uncertain terms, that he had to check in at least once an hour. It touched him, but at the same time made him feel guilty. He knew how troubled she’d been after she’d heard about his attack and he hated that he had put that worry in her.
So, dutifully, he checked in about once an hour. Still safe. Still bored. What are you doing?
The answer came back with a picture of Rachel and Rory. Out getting our drunk on.
Bobby laughed, glad she was having a good time. He put his phone back in the center console and headed back to the store to pick up his next delivery. Most of his deliveries took him back to campus because there were always students who didn’t go home for the holidays or who came back early to party with their friends over the three-day weekend.
About halfway through his shift he had to stop for gas. He pulled into a small station off University Avenue he liked to use because they were cheap. It was privately owned, without a corporate affiliation, or, if it had one, no visible signage declaring that fact. Bobby groaned when he pulled up to the pump and saw the sign over the card reader that read: Out of order. Please pay inside.
Not again.
He got out of the car and went inside the station office that never had more than one person working at a time, handed the attendant a bill, and said, “Twenty on number two.”
Without a word, the young man working behind the counter took Bobby’s proffered money, rang it up on the register, turned on the pump, and handed Bobby a receipt. He didn’t seem to care one way or the other for Bobby’s thanks. Before Bobby could turn to leave, the attendant had returned his attention to an iPad propped on the back counter where he had a movie paused.
When Bobby got back to his car he noticed that there were two guys standing outside their vehicle, which they had parked directly behind his. They weren’t moving to go inside to pay or making any attempt to do anything at all. It looked as if they were waiting. Waiting for him, but he wasn’t sure why—they were unfamiliar to him. Before he could get his hand on the nozzle to start pumping his gas, one of the two guys approached him.
“Your name’s Bobby, isn’t it?”
“Do I know you?”
“Nope.”
“Then how do you know me?”
“Let’s just say we know someone in common.”
“And who would that be?”
“Can’t tell you that, she asked me not to.”
“Okay, whatever.” Seeming to ignore them, though surreptitiously keeping an eye on them, Bobby reached for the nozzle.
“Our mutual friend, she’s not happy with you. She asked us to tell you that.”
Not liking the stupid game they were playing and not wanting to play it or play into it, Bobby stayed stoic when he replied, “Fine, message received.”
“But see, how do I know that for sure?”
Bobby put the nozzle in his gas tank and put his back against his car. He didn’t know what their problem was, but he had a feeling that turning his back on them would be a mistake. Never turn your back on your enemy. And at this moment, they were his enemy.
Both guys stepped in closer to him and the first one was only a few inches from his face. “You ignoring me, freak?”
“Fuck off.”
“Oh, I know what you are. And it’s fucking disgusting. I say you want to be a man, you should fight like one. What you say? Huh? Can you fight like a man?”
Bobby narrowed his eyes at him, trying to hold his ground. He didn’t want this. Just because he was learning how to fight better, didn’t mean he wanted to. “I don’t need to.”
“Oh, you think you’re better than me, is that it?” He looked at his buddy. “Did you hear that? He thinks he’s better than me. You think you can fucking take me? Here, I’ll make it easy for you—you can have the first shot. Right there on the chin.” He got in Bobby’s face and pointed to his own chin.
Bobby knew when
to leave well enough alone. He wasn’t afraid of this loser but he did know that two on one he wouldn’t stand a chance. He stood up straight and looked the guy in the face and said, “No thanks,” and then he finished pumping his gas and went to put the nozzle back in its cradle.
When he turned back around, loser number one grabbed the lapels of Bobby’s jacket and threw him up against the side of his car.
“That was the only chance you’re going to get.” Then he punched Bobby in the stomach and Bobby would have fallen if he wasn’t being held up. “Do you know what you did? Do you? She’s my sister, man, my sister.” With each repetition, he slammed Bobby hard against the car. “She wanted to go to the cops but I told her I’d take care of it because that’s what brothers do. I’m going to fucking take care you.” With that promise, he hit Bobby in the face. Bobby pushed against him and was able to break away enough that he was standing a few feet away.
He knew he was outnumbered but he wasn’t going down without a fight. In the back of his mind he knew he had a split second to flee and it was possible he might have made it, but the odds were against him. After having trained with Dr. Lou for a few weeks, he knew a few kicks and punches that he could use, and he would.
His kick took his first attacker by surprise. Bobby’s foot made contact with the man’s ribcage and that took him to his knees. Bobby turned to the other one, who was now carrying a wooden baseball bat. Bobby immediately put his hands up in surrender. “No, man, you don’t want to do that. I’m done, I’ll leave. Just put that down.”
The second man looked enraged as he swung the bat wide as if he was going for a grand slam. Bobby put his arms up to try to ward it off as much as he could. He screamed in pain as it made contact and he felt something break in his arm. He couldn’t help it—he sank to his knees, cradling his arm to his chest. “Fuck!”