I’m glad you came back, and I hope you can find a way to stay safe.
Brenda
It had never occurred to me to let her in on our secret. I had assumed she would be disgusted and appalled like everyone else. At least she didn’t hate me like the rest of the school seemed to. Oddly, that helped.
Much of the day followed in the same way. I kept very alert, and other people kept their distance, including friends of Brad and Emma Mosely. It was evident they recognized that messing with me was not going to be in their best interest; either the school or maybe Coach had warned them to leave me alone. Finally, the last bell rang, and I was exhausted from having to be on my guard all damn day. When Carolyn picked me up outside the doors, I was relieved to be away from the constant tension. I was also grateful that I had my lessons at the dojo, because they always helped me to work off some of the anxiety.
“Welcome, Brian, how was your first day back at school?” Coach asked as I came out of the changing room. After the first week of feeling like a complete idiot in the uniform Coach called a “gi,” I’d started to find it very comfortable. I liked the way it made me feel in control and powerful, like I belonged in the dojo.
“Good afternoon, Sensei. School was fine.” Moving directly in front of him as I’d been taught, I stood with my feet shoulder-width apart and my hands behind my back. My shoulders were back and my core muscles tight.
“Good, I’m glad to hear that. Let’s start out with some slow stretching poses, and then we’ll move on to a few different kicks,” he said, putting his arms above his head.
“Yes, Sensei!” I said, loud and strong as I began my stretching routine with him. As we worked together, he told me he was impressed with the control I employed in my positions and in my movements. In just a few short weeks, I had progressed farther than he’d anticipated. He said I had a real talent for the art.
A light sheen of sweat had formed on my forehead by the time we were finished with our initial exercises. It was a great workout, and even in those few weeks, I’d felt myself getting stronger—both emotionally and physically. Sensei said that six months from now, I would hardly recognize myself.
For the rest of Monday’s session and part of Tuesday’s, we worked on kicks like the forward instep and the mule. They were easy moves that I could do in order to get myself out of trouble. The more advanced punches and kicks would come in time, but I worked diligently on perfecting these. Each night, I practiced first in the dojo with Sensei and then at home on the practice dummy he’d lent me. It’s not like I had a social life to keep up with, so doing my homework, working on my plan to find Jamie, looking for a job, and practicing on the dummy were the things of which my life consisted. It was probably the reason Sensei was so impressed with my progress. I practiced for hours.
By the following Friday, I was really getting into the roundhouse kick we’d started working on earlier that session. In addition to the hand strikes and blocks we’d introduced into my arsenal of defensive and offensive moves, the kicks made me feel much more confident in my ability to protect myself.
“So, are you doing anything exciting this weekend?” Sensei asked me as we took a short break during the session to set up a practice dummy so he could better check my form. I took a long drink from my water bottle before checking the padding on the equipment.
“No, not really,” I said with a slow sigh. “I’m still job hunting, so I’ll probably hit a few of the stores over on Carlton Avenue.” Sensei set the brake on the dummy’s small wheels and then looked up at me.
“You’re looking for a job?” he asked, at first with a look of polite interest, then one of more significance. His eyes burned with a barely concealed excitement, and a grin stretched over his face.
“Yeah, but I’m not having much luck. I’ve tried stores, factories, libraries, the school—no one is interested, even the ones looking for help. It’s almost like I’ve become some kind of pariah,” I replied, looking down at the mats, pretending to check the dummy.
“Well, then, I have the perfect solution to your problem and mine,” Sensei said with a laugh, and I looked up to meet his humor-filled brown eyes.
“What problem do you have?” I asked, curious.
“Word of mouth about the dojo is spreading. At first, no one even wanted to walk along the sidewalk in front of it, but now, apparently, karate is the in thing to do, so I’ve had a huge influx of students. I was thinking about hiring another part-time instructor, but I don’t think any of my students have the patience to teach others, except you. You’re looking for a job; I’m looking for a beginning instructor. Are you interested?” His question caught me completely off guard. I must have stood there, my mouth agape, for several minutes before I found my voice.
“I just started, Sensei. Do you really think I have the experience to teach a room full of kids?” I asked him, the lack of confidence evident in my voice.
“You’re patient, and you’re kind. Everything else I can teach you.” The look he gave me then told me he really believed I could do it. “I also want you to start joining my classes on Tuesday and Thursday nights for more advanced work. I will pay you for attending, and that will help you get up to speed faster so you can start teaching others.”
“Sensei, I should be paying you for teaching me, not you paying me,” I told him fervently, but he just shook his head, and I knew I wouldn’t be able to argue with him. Whether he was doing it out of pity or because he really did need me, I didn’t know.
“Okay, Brian, let’s get back to work.”
We continued to work for the next hour, most of it on self-defense, but some on what I could potentially start teaching students in just two weeks. He had a class of very young students starting later in the month, and he wanted me to teach that class. There was no denying I was apprehensive about it. First, would I have the patience and the understanding to teach karate, something I’d just started to learn myself, to young children? More importantly, what would their parents think of their children being taught by a gay kid?
“Sensei?” I asked as we started to pack away the equipment we’d used.
“Yes?”
“What happens if the parents of these children don’t want their kids taught by a fag?” I began to pay an inordinate amount of attention to the tie of the bag of padding I was securing. The last thing I wanted him to say was that he’d turn away the kids. It wasn’t fair to the kids, who wouldn’t understand the hate and bigotry that would cause their disappointment. I also didn’t want Sensei to lose business because he’d taken a chance on hiring me.
“I will show them it is in their best interest to have their child take the class. One of my many responsibilities in the Marines was as a negotiator. I can be very persuasive, don’t you worry about that. They either get the black guy or the gay guy; I’m not sure which is higher on their repugnancy scale, but if they want their kids to learn to defend themselves, we’re the only shop in town.” He shrugged and tossed me one of the tennis balls we used for targeting.
Looking up toward the waiting room, I saw Carolyn’s face smiling back at me and thought about something Sensei had told me in one of our very first sessions:
I can only control my own actions and my own attitudes.
I cannot control the hearts and minds of others.
“You look happy, son. Did you have a good session?” Carolyn asked me as I came out of the work room in my street clothes.
“Sensei offered me a job teaching the smaller kids,” I told her, still a little amazed that I was employed. My plans for leaving next summer were starting to come together. It exhilarated and terrified me at the same time. I’m not much of an idealist, and I knew the huge risk I’d be taking. For all my bravado when talking to Kyle about leaving, to be honest, I was scared. I loved Jamie with everything in me, but I’d be lying if I said I’d never thought about giving up. Each and every time I thought about the challenges I’d be facing, and how hard I’d have to work in order to be
with Jamie again, I thought about his face and the feeling of his arms around me. That was enough. It was enough to make me do whatever I had to do.
“That’s… that’s wonderful, darlin’,” Carolyn said a little skeptically. She looked into my face for a long time, reading me as she always read me. “You’re still planning to head out to California when you turn eighteen.” It wasn’t a question, and the look of sadness in her eyes caused my reply to die in my throat, so I just nodded. There was really nothing I could say to reassure her, only hollow platitudes like “I’ll be all right” or “Everything will be okay,” neither of which I knew for certain to be true. If I were honest with myself, I’d admit they were no truer if I stayed.
“I need to save up as much money as I can, and then I’ll do my best to survive. I can’t just walk away from him, Carolyn, any more than you could just walk away from Richard. Jamie and I’ve been together since we were eleven, and this past summer it turned into something much more. He’s worth fighting for; our love is worth fighting for.” Willing her to try to understand, I walked beside her as we left the dojo and headed for the car. She was scared for me, and I knew that, because I was scared for me too.
THE next day Carolyn took me to the All American Bank down on Central Avenue and helped me to open a joint bank account. Because I was still underage, the account was set up as custodial with Carolyn as the primary account holder. She chose that particular bank because it was one that could be accessed from anywhere in the country, so once I was in California, my funds would still be accessible. My protests went unheard as she used a hundred dollars of her own money to make the initial deposit. When I told her I’d pay her back, she waved me off, telling me she wanted to start me out right. She was anxious about my decision to go to California but never discouraged me. That was one of the things I loved most about Carolyn: she always let me stand on my own two feet because that was the only way I would learn to take care of myself.
I spent the rest of the afternoon working on my plan. According to the bus company’s website, it would take two days to get from Mobile to San Diego. I wasn’t really looking forward to being on a bus that long, but I didn’t have any better options. Flying or taking the train would be too expensive. Carolyn had suggested I stop in the middle and get a room to stay in for the night, but I didn’t want to spend the money for that. It would just delay me from getting to San Diego sooner, and I could sleep on the bus. Even though I wouldn’t be leaving for months, I also checked a few apartment rental sites. The prices scared the hell out of me. There was no way I was going to be able to afford rent that high for long, not without getting a really good job. Since I had no college education, I couldn’t count on that. I guessed I’d have to see what I could afford when the time came. I’d come too far to stop now.
I wanted Jamie back.
20
“HELLO, class, my name is Brian, and I’ll be your instructor,” I said in a falsely confident voice. There were only about fifteen kids, all between the ages of five and eight, but I was still nervous as hell. Sensei had given me a short list of things to teach them for the first few lessons: basic stances, kicks, and punches I could’ve done in my sleep, which helped to boost my confidence. He’d also told me he would be right there for the first few classes, just to make sure everything went smoothly. I looked up and saw him standing against the back wall of the dojo with a wide, encouraging smile. As my attention came back to the students, a small girl, no more than five years old, waved at me, her long blonde hair pulled up into a rubber band. I smiled back at her.
I told them everything about the program, how karate is used for defense only and not to hurt other people. Next, I taught them the dojo motto:
Only through constant practice can we hope to achieve our goals.
I explained what the phrase meant and then had them repeat it several times. We would recite the motto at the beginning of each session, and maybe when they were old enough, they would really understand what it meant. You need to believe and work hard to achieve your goals. My goal was to see my Jamie again, and I would work as hard as I could to accomplish it.
The kids were like sponges, absorbing everything I taught them. They were enthusiastic and sweet, even if they couldn’t execute any of the moves with exact precision. It didn’t matter because they were there to have fun. There would be plenty of time as they got older to work on their control. It made me smile that they were awed by the way I could kick and punch, and the way they admired my skill made me feel good. They didn’t know I was gay, and they probably wouldn’t have understood even if they had known. They looked up to me as if I was some cool karate master, not some kid who had just gotten his ass kicked.
Each kid had a nametag stuck to his or her uniform so I could start to learn his or her name. I walked over to a little girl with “Katie” on her shirt and shoulder-length brown hair pulled back in a plastic band. She was giggling with one of her classmates, not following what the other kids were doing. I looked over at Sensei in the back of the room, and he nodded his approval.
“Katie, you need to pay attention to what the class is doing,” I told her in a stern but kind voice. It wasn’t as if I wanted to scare her, just get her to pay attention. She looked up at me with wide eyes and nodded. It gave me a little more confidence in my ability to keep control of the class, and we continued.
When class had finished, I told the kids to grab their shoes and find their parents. They ran around for a few minutes, looking at the different pieces of equipment, but finally started to do what I had told them to do. With a chuckle, I watched as a small, ginger-haired boy in glasses looked up in wonder at one of the practice dummies. I was about to approach him when I heard a man speaking loudly with Sensei. Well, yelling was really a better word.
“Is this class always going to be taught by… him?” the man asked, and as I turned around to look, I saw that his face was flushed and sweaty. He wore a loose pair of jean shorts and an Alabama State football T-shirt. Almost squaring off against Sensei, he got very angry when the answer to his question came as a nod.
“Don’t you think it’s a little risky letting a queer teach a close-contact sport to a bunch of little boys?” he asked in a scathing tone, putting his hands on his ample hips. “I want my boy transferred to another class.” The man looked satisfied with his request, and his son stood quietly by his side, looking like he wanted to melt into the padded floor. The boy kept glancing at me, almost begging me to say something to change his father’s mind. The sadness I saw there was almost tangible. From the way he cringed away from his father’s voice, it was obvious he was afraid to speak up for himself.
“There are no other classes appropriate for a six-year-old boy, so if you want your son to learn the art of karate, he will learn it from Brian.” Sensei’s voice was firm yet reasonable, and he stood his ground. The man got right up in his face, but Sensei did not back away. He merely stood up to his full height. Taking a step back, the man seemed to think twice about challenging the well-built black belt and pulled his son out of the room without another word.
Stupid bullies, they think they can rule the whole world.
I shook my head and looked back down at the little boy with glasses standing next to me. If I were to say anything to him, would his parents think I was trying to molest him? With a sigh, I turned to walk away when a pretty woman with long brown hair braided down her back stopped me with a hand on my arm.
“Not all of us think the way he does,” she said quietly. “You appear to be a patient young man, and if Mr. Williams has confidence in you, then I do as well. He and his wife are good people; their color wouldn’t matter to me if they were purple. I saw you on the news, and it made me angry what happened to you. Life is too damned short for this kind of hateful nonsense.” She reached down and took the hand of the little boy next to me, and he smiled first at her and then at me. He had a sweet, kind face, which looked remarkably like hers. I couldn’t help but smile back at him as
he turned to walk out of the dojo with his mother.
“That was very good for your first day, Brian,” Sensei said as the last of the students left. I walked around, making sure we had put everything away.
“Thank you,” I replied, grabbing a bottle of water from my bag. Sitting down on the floor with my back against the wall, I hoped he knew I was thanking him for standing up for me as well as for the compliment.
“You ready to play with the big kids?” Sensei asked with a smirk. After each of the classes I taught, there was an adult class Sensei taught. He had asked me to participate in the class as a student to continue to strengthen my skills at a higher level. I still felt a little strange teaching something to the kids that I hadn’t fully grasped myself, but Sensei said it would come in time. In addition to being patient and caring with the kids, Sensei said I had a real knack for the art. Pride had swelled in my chest at that admission; I’d finally found something at which I could succeed.
“I suppose,” I said warily.
“How are you feeling? We’re going to get into some sparring tonight; are you up to it?” His expression changed from teasing to concern in an instant.
“I feel okay. I’m sure I won’t do anything a little ibuprofen won’t cure.” I smiled, trying to hide my fear. It would be the first time I’d be working with other students in the dojo. Usually, my sessions with Sensei were one-on-one training. I wasn’t sure how the other students would react to my being in the class, but he assured me I shouldn’t worry.
Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) Page 24