Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1)

by Jamie Mayfield

  That was the worst part of the dream.

  During the day on Monday, I finished up an essay for history and then started reading the novel I’d been assigned for English class, The Catcher in the Rye. It was ironic because I felt like I was trapped in my own head. I felt like if I lost my tenuous hold, I might slip into chaos. I was reading when Carolyn came in to tell me it was time to go see Coach Williams. My bedroom was still in the living room because it was very tiring for me to navigate the stairs. I hoped the self-defense class would, at the very least, help me build up my strength again.

  During the ride to the dojo—that word still sounded so funny in my head—I tried to get excited about getting out of the house. Except to go with Richard to the hospital, or my nightmare trip to Hudson House, I hadn’t been out of our home since the attack. The sun seemed too bright and the traffic too loud. Flinching at every noise, I felt overwhelmed. Carolyn put her hand on my knee, trying to soothe me, and I appreciated her understanding. Some foster parents, in fact most foster parents, wouldn’t be willing to put up with what I’d put Richard and Carolyn through in the last two months. They would have dumped me back onto the state and not thought about me again.

  It didn’t take long to get to the studio, and I started to get nervous as we pulled into an open space. The building was small, but the entire front wall was comprised of floor-to-ceiling windows. A perfect view of a large white room with a shiny wooden floor was obstructed only by the name of the dojo printed in unassuming letters near the ceiling. The phone numbers and hours of operation were posted on the door.

  “Brian, you know you don’t have to go in if you don’t want to,” Carolyn told me with a little too much compassion in her voice. I took a deep breath and opened the door. She came around to the passenger side, and I slowly got to my feet, a little wary about going inside. We walked in silence to the big glass door. Pulling it open, I waited for Carolyn to go in and then followed her to the desk.

  “Hi, can I help you?” an energetic receptionist asked as we approached. Her long, curly, black hair was swept back from her pretty ebony face, and her smile was genuine and welcoming.

  “I’m Carolyn Schreiber, and this is my son, Brian. He has an appointment with Mr. Williams.” Carolyn smiled at the receptionist and then at me. I merely tried to look like I wanted to be here.

  “Welcome, Brian, I’m Tonya.” She held out a small, perfectly manicured hand, and I shook it lightly. “I’ll go let Derrick know you’re here.”

  “Thank you,” I said in my most polite tone. She went off into a back room, and we stood idly at the desk, waiting in awkward silence. I put my hands in my pockets to keep them from swinging nervously at my sides. We didn’t have long to wait. Coach Williams came out almost at once, followed by Tonya. I noticed her squeeze Coach’s hand before she let it go, and I assumed she must be his wife.

  “Hello, Brian, Mrs. Schreiber.” Coach was dressed in a white outfit like the ninjas wore in that lame movie Jamie and I had seen. Our little date seemed like it had happened a lifetime ago, but even though he was gone, wherever I went, I often saw or heard or felt something that reminded me of him.

  It seemed like everywhere I looked, I saw Jamie.

  “Hello, Coach Williams,” I said and shook his proffered hand. Carolyn greeted him in a similar manner, smiling up at him as he towered over her. At six foot three, with closely cropped black hair and a lean, muscled frame, he was an imposing figure.

  “In the dojo you can just call me Sensei; that’s what all the students call me.” I nodded, and he continued. “Mrs. Schreiber, you can pick Brian up in an hour. Today I’m just going to give him a tour, talk about what we want to accomplish, and go through some basic exercises to help him start to strengthen his body. We won’t start any defensive moves until the next session.” He looked down at her and added, “Dr. Schreiber believes Brian has had symptoms of traumatic stress from the attack, so I want to make sure we take things slow.” Shifting his weight from one foot to the other, he looked at me uncomfortably and then up at the big clock on the wall.

  “I’ll wait in the reception area,” Carolyn said, her voice ringing with quiet authority. I couldn’t help but smile. She sounded like a mama bear protecting her cub, and she couldn’t know how much I appreciated it. Richard said that Coach Williams wasn’t a homophobe like the rest of them; Kyle said he’d never given him any problems, and, well, I needed to do it. I didn’t want to wind up like that poor dead boy. No self-defense class could help protect me from everything, but I wanted to be as prepared as I could be.

  I was soon going to be a long way from home.

  “That’s fine,” Coach Williams told her. “Okay, Brian, let me show you around.”

  He showed me the practice rooms, the equipment storage, and a small changing room. In a closet off the hall, he found one of those ninja outfits like he was wearing and told me to change in the small room behind me, leaving my shoes off. I did as he asked, feeling totally stupid as I walked out into the main area in what felt to me like my pajamas.

  “Your standard stance when at rest is to stand with your feet shoulder-width apart and your hands clasped behind your back, as such,” Coach said as he stood with his hands folded behind his back. While he looked powerful and intimidating, I felt like a kid just trying to imitate a grown-up. “Good, shoulders back and chest out, stand proud and tall.” I mimicked what he asked for, but I didn’t feel proud, and I didn’t feel tall. “Now, when I give you an instruction, you should reply always with ‘Yes, Sensei!’ loud and clear.”

  “Yes, Sensei.” My voice wasn’t loud or strong. In fact, it sounded rather childish and weak. He came to stand next to me and reached out to put his hand on my stomach, and I flinched away.

  “Brian, I’m not going to hurt you.”

  “Can I ask you something?” I looked up into his face for the first time, meeting his eyes with a steely determination. We needed to get something straight before we could continue. He nodded, looking a little confused. “Why are you doing this? I got the impression that you were a ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell’ kind of guy.”

  He considered me for a long minute before he spoke. “You’re right, I do believe in ‘Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell.’ I guess deep down, I don’t really want to know. But I’ve also seen what happens in the military when guys are found out. They’re discharged for their own safety, not because of their dedication or their ability. I think a gay soldier can fight and die just as well as a straight soldier. If they’re going to fight, however, they should be fighting the enemy, not other guys in their own regiment. You’re going to have to fight for the rest of your life: to be treated fairly, against hate and prejudice, and sometimes for your own safety. You took one hell of a beating, Brian. I’ve never seen someone so broken and bloody come back like you did. You are one strong kid, and I want to help you to stay that way.”

  I looked out the glass window at Carolyn sitting in the reception area. That sounded truthful and sincere. Then something occurred to me.

  “You saw me?”

  His expression hardened for a long moment.

  “Yes. I had forgotten to pull the cones for football practice after school. Thank God, or I’d have had no other reason to go to the equipment room that afternoon.”

  “You stopped it?”

  He nodded.

  He had saved my life.

  “Thank you,” I told him earnestly, and suddenly I no longer had any doubts about his sincerity in wanting to help me. I kicked my feet shoulder-width apart and put my hands behind my back. Pulling my shoulders up, I stood proud and tall. I was ready to start my training.

  “I want you to take a few deep breaths, slowly, to calm and center yourself, and then we’ll begin.”

  “Yes, Sensei!”

  We worked on a few conditioning exercises he wanted me to do to work my core muscle groups. He’d told me that karate was about being strong of mind and of body and of spirit. I didn’t understand what he’d meant b
y “centering” myself, but I tried to relax, assuming I’d figure it out eventually. Coach’s calm demeanor and fluid movements helped to take the edge off my constant state of anxiety. Every minute I was out of the safety of our house, I felt like crawling out of my own skin. Even though I knew Mosely was in jail, I felt myself looking around the dojo. Being constantly on the alert for another attack was starting to get exhausting.

  “It’s good that you’re starting to become more aware of your surroundings, Brian, but you need to relax a little. Nothing is going to hurt you here,” Coach said, putting a hand on my shoulder. I looked up into his concerned face.

  “Sensei, may I ask you something?”

  “Sure. If I can’t or don’t wish to answer it, I’ll tell you,” he replied in his deep baritone voice.

  “Did you grow up here in Alabama?” Growing up gay in Alabama was hard, but being gay was something you could hide. I couldn’t even imagine what growing up in Alabama as a black man was like.

  “Yes, I did. My parents still live about an hour south of here. I moved here when I got out of the service to take the position at the high school. So yes, I know firsthand what it’s like to experience the hate and the brutality that you’re going through. I joined the Marines to escape it. During the last eight years in service to my country, I learned that hate and intolerance exist everywhere, all around the globe. There is no escaping it; you just have to face it head-on.”

  The Schreibers, the only foster parents who’d ever taken the time to treat me like a son, had always taught me to base my opinion of someone on their actions and their words, not on my assumptions about them. Sometimes the assumptions would be true, but you had to give the person the opportunity to surprise you. I liked that view of the world, naive as it was, more than the view Coach was giving me. Unfortunately, his view was probably far more accurate.

  “Okay, I think that’s enough for today. I want to see you every other day until your father clears you, and then I want to see you every day.” Coach bowed to me, and I bowed back. It was the first time in my life an adult had shown me an unmistakable sign of respect.

  I was glad I had decided to go.

  19

  “ARE you scared?” Kyle asked as we finished up our last session together. On Monday, I’d be going back to school, and he was making sure I’d be able to transition back smoothly. Well, transition back smoothly into the curriculum, at least. However, it was anybody’s guess how things would go once I was released back into the general population of students. Was I scared about going back to school? Yes, I was terrified, actually.

  There was no way for me to anticipate what was going to happen when I walked back through the doors of Crayford High School on Monday morning. My fellow students could feel I’d suffered enough and leave me in peace. On the other hand, they could hate me for being the reason their golden boy was in jail and the Mosely family had been devastated. They were a well-liked and prominent family, so it wasn’t a stretch to think I’d continue to be targeted.

  “Yes.” I looked away as I started to pack up my stuff. Richard had transported most of my books, notebooks, and school supplies that had accumulated at the house back to the school. Late at night, when they thought I was asleep, I’d heard Richard and Carolyn talking in the kitchen about how scared they were for me. Richard had told her how glad he was that he was retired so he would be there if I needed him, if I needed to come home.

  Kyle helped me clear off the kitchen table, organizing the few things that were left in the box that would go to the school on Monday. My bedroom had already been put back upstairs, and the ramp had been removed from the front of the house with the help of a few of Richard’s friends from the hospital. The metal and rubber bands had been removed from my jaw. Everything was back to normal; everything except me. Sensei and I had been working on a few basic moves for two weeks, self-defense strategies that would at least allow me to escape a bad situation. Working with him every day was helping me to feel marginally more confident that I’d be able to survive.

  It had taken several days of me crying out and cringing each time he tried to teach me a tactic by example. When he’d come at me and I was supposed to defend myself, I found I couldn’t do it. It had taken nearly three whole sessions before I was able to stand up straight and not cower in fear. Sensei was very patient with me, and after a while, I started to block his mock blows. I was able to try to gouge his eyes and throw a knee to his groin. In short, I was able to, in some small way, defend myself.

  “Coach Williams and I will be there for you,” Kyle said with a hand on my shoulder. “Both the gym and the art room will be safe places for you. If anyone gives you trouble, anyone at all, you just have to make it to one of those rooms. The superintendent has also mandated that the principal keep you safe, but I wouldn’t rely on that.” His hard look told me much more than his words. The safest place for me to go was the gym, followed closely by the art room. I might as well not even bother with the principal’s office. I sat back in the chair with a sigh and ran my hands over my face.

  “Have you given any more thought to our talk about California?” He sat back in his chair too, the books on the table momentarily forgotten.

  “I’m going, period. Monday after the dojo, I’m going to start looking for a job. I have just nine months to get as much money saved as I can, and then I’m going to find him.”

  Kyle looked uncomfortable, like there was something he wanted to say, but he was having a hard time deciding how to phrase it. His brows were furrowed, and his lips were turned down into a look of sadness.

  “You will have other relationships, Brian….” I tried to interrupt, but he stopped me. I couldn’t believe he’d say that to me; he knew I didn’t want to have a relationship with anyone but Jamie. “Okay, let’s back up and assume that Jamie wants for you two to be together, and that all that you’re hoping for comes true. What then? Jamie’s parents will certainly throw him out of the house. Then you’re left with two teenage boys with high school diplomas trying to make it in one of the most expensive cities in the country. How will you live? If you wait, even for just a little while, and both of you go to college, you’ll have a much better chance of surviving.”

  “I don’t know how I can explain this to you so you’ll understand. Jamie is one of the only people, anywhere, who loves me. The fact that he hasn’t called or e-mailed in nearly three months scares the hell out of me. Just before he got into his parents’ car that day, the last thing he told me was to never forget that he loved me. Something has happened to him, Kyle. Jamie is a very smart guy. If he could, he would find some way to let me know he’s okay. The fact that he hasn’t means he’s in trouble, and that tears at me. Can’t you understand that?” Almost pleading with him to understand, I looked into his face, which was starting to flush with frustration and anger.

  “What I understand is that a kid I care about, a friend, is going to risk everything on the feelings of a seventeen-year-old boy. I’m not sure either of you know what love is, and you’re going to throw away your future to—”

  “Jamie is my future.” My mind was set, and there was no way he was going to change it. He didn’t understand. I’d been without love for almost my whole life, and I’d finally found it with Jamie. Nothing was going to stop me from finding him, from finding it again. “I appreciate that you’re trying to look out for me, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

  He nodded, resigned to my decision.

  “I should be getting home. I’ll see you on Monday, Brian,” Kyle said, his voice sounding almost defeated. I liked Kyle; I respected him. He’d turned out to be a great mentor and someone I could rely on, but we would never agree about Jamie.

  THE bruises had faded, but the limp I’d been left with caused me to feel very self-conscious as I walked down the south hall to my first class. I don’t think I could have drawn more stares from the other students if I’d been glowing. Some of the stares were hostile, but most were curious, even
sympathetic. Louise Birch from my math class had even given me a tentative smile as I passed her locker. That gave me a bit of hope, but I still made sure I was very aware of my surroundings at all times, just as Sensei had been teaching me. The first line of defense, he’d repeated many times, is awareness.

  I grabbed the lunch Carolyn had packed from my locker and sat in the cafeteria away from everyone else with my back against the wall. It seemed in my two-month absence, no one had taken the space next to the emergency exit. Again, I ate quickly, trying to avoid all the stares, all the whispers. One thing had changed, however, from when I’d sat there day after day before the attack. My back was straight, and I was no longer ashamed of who I was or who I loved. Over the last few weeks, day after day, Sensei had taught me to stand tall and be proud.

  That’s exactly what I was doing, for me.

  As I finished the last of my pudding cup, I was surprised to see someone heading toward my solitary table. It was Brenda. She dropped a note next to my lunch bag and kept walking. I watched her as she set her tray down in the front, but she never looked back as she pulled her backpack up higher and walked out of the cafeteria. Picking up the note, I opened it and began to read.

  Brian,

  I wanted to say that I’m sorry about what they did to you. Emma’s brother had no right to hurt you the way he did. I know how she’s feeling, but I never would have wanted to hurt you, or Jamie. It took a long time for me to be able to understand why you and Jamie did what you did. But since the start of school, seeing how you’ve been treated, I guess that’s answer enough. I wish you had just trusted me enough to tell me, rather than letting me believe that you liked me. Believe it or not, I would have helped to protect you on my own without the lies.