by Robin Hart
“Alright son, don’t mind if I do.”
“I love you dad. Take care.”
“Love you too.” He said. “I’m proud of you no matter what.”
“Thank you dad. That means a lot.”
“Stuff and fluff.” His dad said. “You’ve always stood on your own.”
“It still means a lot, because I respect you.”
“As you should.”
Sean laughed. “Good bye dad.”
“Goodbye.”
Sean hit the end button and stared at the phone while the duration of the call blinked, then disappeared. Disappeared like the feelings about children, the worries about disappointing his parents, and the feeling that he would lose just one more thing if he pursued Nicole: his parent’s respect.
Later that day, Sean threw his bag over his shoulder and headed into the dojang. He needed to sweat, needed to push his body till the pain hit a threshold where endorphins rushed through him, eliminating any pain or depression, physical and emotional, at least for a little while.
“Mister Rollins.” Nate, who was teaching the black belt class for him on Tuesday nights, turned as soon as Sean entered the studio, and bowed. “Are you here to run class?”
“No.” Sean said. He let the door fall behind him and headed to the bathroom to change. “Just here to workout, maybe watch a bit, see if your teaching is adequate.”
Nate nodded and turned back to the class to continue the warm up. Sean closed the bathroom door. Changing into his gi was a habit, born of hundreds of repetitions, easy to do. It was almost like he just reached in his bag, drifted off in thought for a few seconds, and before he knew it, was walking out of the bathroom ready to fight, to teach, to compete.
While the class finished their warm ups he hit the mat, first sit ups, then pushups. Then he started on the Wavemaster with kicks. He relished the way the back was flung back when he kicked it, the way he rebounded to meet his foot as he spun towards it with another blow. He had heard that the human body generates 900 pounds of force in a tornado kick, and he hoped it was true, viciously delivering another one and imagining the bag was Jake.
Sean was a quiet person, the head teacher, and never a show off. He worked hard for the feel of sweat, the rush of a well-timed kick, the feeling of executing a move faster and more accurately than ever before. He missed this. He hadn’t been back enough since he’d been caught up in the drama with Nicole. He started his butterfly kicks; fast kicks where you kick with one foot, and immediately with the other, landing only long enough to jump off each leg. It laid a barrage of kicks to either side of an opponent, and Sean was brutally fast at them. Sean was too involved in the rhythmic pounding to realize that most of his students were watching him. When he did notice, he almost barked at them to get back to work, but realized they were putting their sparring gear on, and had to sit mostly while doing that anyway.
Besides his master, Master Peterson, Sean was the highest rank in the dojang. At 24 he was good, he was titled, but it took years and a lot of writing and traveling to be a master, so Sean was contented to simply teach. He didn’t mind being called mister instead of master, and his authority with the students came more from the savagery of his speed and technical ability, the knowledge that he could knock them out without them even seeing his foot move, not a certificate or title. And he liked it that way.
“Mind if I join you?” He said, going to his bag and unpacking his sparring gear, glad he had brought it.
“We’d be honored.” Nate said, organizing the advanced students into groups of three, two to fight, and one to ref. A mix of fear and excitement spread across the faces of the students. Many looked to Sean as an example and loved to watch him fight, while they feared fighting him. Nothing was a higher honor though, now that Master Peterson rarely sparred, and nothing would teach you faster than fighting the best in the studio.
Sean wished Nicole could come see him at the studio. He was most confident here, able and cold and efficient and admired. Not the awkward joke he was at the club, a novelty. No, here people knew his name and what he could do and wanted to be him. And guessing from the awkward number of times the girls had wanted to be his self defense partner before he turned them over to his one female teacher, Sarah, he guessed that the girls admired him as well.
“I’ll fight you first Sean.” Nate said, turning so one of his students could lace up the back of his chest protector, which had three circles you could hit for points. Sean was more interested in the head protector. Hitting the head, or even better, the face, was worth 3 points, a hit to the body only one. Headshots were much harder to execute, but oh so pleasing when you did them right. And Sean did them right.
When they were both dressed, Sean and Nate circled. Nate danced lightly on his feet, but Sean liked to keep movement minimal so as to not give away his plans. When someone danced back and forth you could get an idea of the rhythm of when they would lift a leg. Sean stayed on his toes, left his hands very loose, and waited. When Nate shot forward with triple butterfly kicks, Sean did what he was known for. Took a lightning-quick step back and then jumped in the air, spinning his back leg up and around to clock Nathan in the head while Nathan barely skimmed his lower legs with his alternating kicks. Nathan staggered back and the ref made the call, head shot for Sean.
The students murmured. Nate grinned. He loved sparring Sean, even if it made his head hurt. Sean got back in that disturbingly still pose, taking an occasional step side to side while his arms stayed loose, ready to balance him or provide more spin. Nate faked him out with a step forward, and Sean wasn’t fooled, countering with a fast back kick, which was countered by a round house from Nate. The ref called points for both.
Sean and Nate sweated, circling, one bouncing lightly, the other anticipating, the students waiting and stretching and focused on not missing a single move of the instructors. Sean looked at their faces as he moved counter to Nate’s circling, for a moment he almost imagined Nicole’s face among them. Then he saw Nate’s foot flying towards his face in peripheral vision. He twisted and ducked just in time, then came up with a high ax kick that hit as Nate’s leg swung around after the miss. His foot drove into Nate’s shoulder and Nate hit the ground with a thud. Sean offered a hand and helped him stand. They grinned and gave each other a shoulder slap hug. Nate was dazed, but there was no shame in losing to Sean. The students grinned and came over to congratulate them both, several of the guys calling the next fight with Sean or Nate. Nate was known for being a lot nicer, but Sean would pull kicks too sometimes, particularly if the student was already aware that it would have been a hit, so the pain was not necessary as a reminder or lesson.
“Can I fight you, Mister Sean?” Patrick, one of his younger students, wanted to know. “I’ve gotten a lot better in the last couple weeks.”
“Light contact.” Sean said, but when Patrick glared at him, amended, “You can use full contact.”
“That’s even worse.”
“Well, when you’re a third degree, I’ll spar you full contact. For now, I’m not going to risk knocking out a really promising first degree student and damaging his brain.”
Patrick didn’t smile at being called promising, but Sean could tell it had made it okay that he wasn’t going to get to fight him all out.
Perhaps because there was such a disparity in skill level, Sean wasn’t paying full attention to the match. Maybe he wanted to get hit, because it would take his mind off everything, maybe he just couldn’t pull Nicole’s face from his mind long enough to watch his peripheral vision. Maybe it was the fact that he’d recently checked out his best friend’s butt in a cute suit, but he felt a huge hit to his head before he even saw it, and was knocked backwards into the wall. He came forward, rubbing his head, ignoring the gasp from the students who’d seen it.
“I landed a head shot on Mister Sean!” Patrick struck the air with his fist, the other students nodded at him, too jealous to make a big deal of something that had to be a fluke or if n
ot, meant that he was better than them.
“Of course, you were dopey looking, so that takes some of the fun out of it.” Nate said, having walked over to where Sean was removing his headgear.
“Sorry, Patrick.” Sean said. “My head just isn’t in the game.”
Patrick shrugged, disillusioned but not stupid enough to think that he could really land a head shot if Sean was paying attention. He cheered himself up with the thought that it was still something few students had done, and not wanting to look a gift horse in the mouth, bowed to his teacher and went to spar with the other students of his rank so Nate and Sean could talk.
“What’s going on?” Nate said. “I’ve never seen you so distracted.”
“Lady trouble.”
“What?” Nate called out to the groups to switch, then went to the main desk out of sight of the class and gestured for Sean to join him. Sean removed his sparring gear and followed his friend. He met Nate when Nate applied to be a teacher a year or so after Sean had taken over as head instructor. Sean was a higher rank with his third degree to Nathan’s second, but they had gotten along really well ever since Nate had joined the studio. Perhaps because with their rank separation, there wasn’t any real need to prove who was in charge or who was better to the students. Also Nate was usually too deep in competition with himself to care much about beating others. He’d rather have been losing to someone better and learning from it than winning against inferior fighters, and Sean respected that.
As for himself, he just enjoyed the thrill of the fight. When he sat in his chair, he couldn’t help looking about the dojang with a satisfied glare. The two floors were clean and newish, the swamp cooler worked to keep the place cool, the desk was neat. A great studio. And Nate clearly did a great job controlling the class.
“The students seem to really like you.”
“Well, not during the workouts. Then they hate me.” Nate took a drink from the cooler and handed one to Sean.
“That means you’re doing it right.” Sean laughed at his own joke. “Nothing is more satisfying than those angry, sweaty faces glaring up at you, challenging you to find a way make them more miserable.”
“Can’t say that’s my motivation, but I want them to improve.”
“I guess you’re right.” Sean said. “I’m so masochistic in my workout, I guess I assume the same thing is good for all the students. A little pain never hurt anyone.”
“That makes no sense.”
“I don’t care. I have an endorphin rush.” Sean said. “See? Enough pain and you don’t even know you’re in pain.”
Nate narrowed his eyes at him, waiting for an explanation. “You said you had lady problems.” He prompted when Sean didn’t take the bait.
“Just a girl I can’t get out of my mind.”
“I’ve never heard you mention a girl before. I was kind of starting to wonder if you were a eunuch.”
“Do we need to go another round?”
“No thanks.” Nate said, rubbing his head. “I think I’ll save my energy for teaching tiny tigers tonight. Actually, lets’ do it. I wouldn’t mind some mild brain damage before that.”
Sean put his hand up to muffle a laugh. Chasing around two and three year olds whose parents wanted them in the Olympics but really weren’t capable of much but picking their noses and pushing each other down was certainly one of the less desired jobs at the studio.
“Is Albert coming in today?”
“I think so, to teach kickboxing.”
“Of course.” Albert was their only teacher that was actually Korean. He was only 19 and preferred to teach the kickboxing class because it was mostly women in their teens and mid twenties. And having Albert take the class tended to keep attendance up, with some women coming to get fit, others just to watch Albert teach. More than once he’d seen a woman blushing as Albert demonstrated a technique at close, or touching range. All of his teachers were respectful however, and none would ever have tried anything inappropriate. Part of that had been Sean and Master Peterson’s carefully hiring processes, and part had been the martial arts spirit, which meant utmost respect for yourself and others.
“That’s because there’s only one girl.” He said. “And nothing has ever really happened there.”
“Wait, your pen pal friend?” Nate didn’t look excited to talk about girls anymore.
“Yeah.” Sean said. “I never told you, but she’s here in Cali.”
“She is?” Nate said. “Are you serious? Why haven’t you made a move on that? I was just about to lecture you about long distance.”
“It’s complicated.” Sean said, logging onto his computer to look at the attendance records. He’d gone electronic a few months back at Nicole’s suggestion, not that he’d tell her she’d been right, and the system was much easier for tracking studio business. He leaned back, and ran his hand through his hair, so that it stuck straight up in front.
“Nice hairstyle.” Nate said. “I better get back to class and manage the miscreants. Why don’t you come to poker night this week?”
Sean grinned. He clicked through the programs just to have something to do. “What night?”
“Friday.”
Sean shook his head. That was a huge night at the club.
“Oh come on, the guys haven’t seen you in a while.”
Sean thought of his conversation with his dad about his friends. He supposed one night off couldn’t hurt, it might even make Nicole appreciate him more, having to talk to the other hosts. Talking to the other hosts…he frowned.
“I don’t think I can.” He said. “I have work.”
“Work?” Nate said. “What?”
“Side stuff.”
“Oh.” Nate headed back to class. “Well text me if you change your mind. Just come for an hour or so, then work after that.”
“I can probably do that.” Sean said, more to himself than Nate because Nate was already bowing onto the mat. “We’ll see.”
Why was guy time so much less appealing than time with Nicole?
Melanie was coming into town, and it was all Nicole could think about. Which was a relief considering all the other things that she’d been thinking about. Sean, her new dating plans, her ethics, and the nightmares that were more steadily stalking her every day. Something about seeing Sean again seemed to be bringing them back. She wasn’t sure if they’d ever been this bad, not since the first year she’d left home. Her aunt hadn’t known what to do other than wake her up, ask her what’s wrong. She’d stopped telling her she was screaming in her sleep, just came in and woke her and sat next to her bed until she was ready to talk, and if she didn’t want to, to go back to sleep.
Melanie was her only other real family. She was her other aunts daughter, and as such had come to visit quite a bit since Melanie had moved in over 13 years ago. Melanie was pretty, with curly, dark hair, dark skin from her father, who was black, and a wide smile with a gap in her front teeth that was just like her mom. Nicole had always envied her for her family, her beautiful hair, and her easy way with people.
Nicole got up from doing her makeup and decided to go downstairs on the couch to wait for Melanie rather than sitting in her room on the laptop. She didn’t want to risk missing her and leaving her waiting on the porch in the humid Nor-Cal summer weather. Melanie was going to Washington State and was used to much cooler, overcast weather.
Nicole walked into the kitchen for coffee and saw a note from her aunt by the sink. “Empty dishwasher. Tell Melanie hi if I’m not back from meeting in time.”
Nicole sighed, picking up the note and dropping it in the trash before moving to open the dishwasher. Before she’d moved more than a few cups, and she took pride in her dishwasher unloading speed, the doorbell rung.
Nicole set down the cup in her hand and ran for the door. She opened it and Melanie stood smiling behind it. She held up her arms and Nicole ran forward to hug her. Melanie pulled her in tightly, gave her a casual kiss on the cheek that Nicole was too shy to re
turn, and let go to look her over.
“You are looking great.” Melanie said. “I like how you’re doing your hair now.”
“Just wish it was as pretty as yours.”
“It’s prettier, I think.” Melanie touched her own, patting it down so it could spring back.
“Not possible.” Nicole said, resisting the urge to touch it. “Come in. Let’s not keep you out here on the porch.”
“Thanks.” Melanie said. “Don’t mind if I do.”
Nicole helped Melanie grab her bags, and when they were inside, she set them on the living room floor and then went to the couches. She took the sofa and motioned for Melanie to take the much larger couch. Melanie smiled and jumped on it, stretching out with her arms at her sides, one hanging over.
“So what’s new, Nicole girl?”
“Not much Mel. How’s school?” Nicole reached behind her to pull the blinds down so the sun wasn’t in Melanie’s eyes.
“It’s school.” Melanie said. “I’m more interested in hearing about my famous writer cousin.”
“I wouldn’t say I’m famous.”
“I will then.” Melanie said. “It’s more exciting. Are you working on a new book yet?”
“Yup, keeps me from going nuts worrying about the last one.”
“I still think it’s so amazing I have a cousin who is a writer.”
“I think it’s amazing that I have a cousin as cool as you are.” Nicole said.
“Stop dodging.”
“I’m not. Writing is my job. It’s boring to talk about.” Nicole yawned for emphasis. “How about boys, anyone interesting at Washington State?”
“Not really.” Melanie said. “The freshman boys are really ridiculous”
“Yeesh, I forget how much younger you are than me.”
“Should I call you aunt Nicole then?”
“No.” Nicole scowled at her. “And you’re right about freshman boys. Avoid them like the plague.”
“I will.” Melanie smiled. “The sophomore guys are hotter anyway.”