After our meeting, he took me aside. “Brandon still hasn’t answered my calls. Texted to say he’s got an important project and not to worry. But I do. Can we meet again tonight?”
“After karate.”I tried to be nonchalant, but I enjoyed saying I took karate. It made me feel tough.
“You take karate? I didn’t know that.”
He looked at my slight frame and said, “Let me guess: dynamite comes in small packages, and all that.”
He probably thought he was hilarious, but I’d been hearing that my whole life. At five foot two, I was used to being underestimated.
“First class this afternoon. In the future, I’ve been training for three years.”
“You any good?”
I shrugged. I didn’t want to brag, but I was proud of my steady progress.
“That means yes. What belt?”
“Blue.”I didn’t know if he knew the sequence. It was near the middle, just before brown.
“That’s impressive for three years. Remind me not to piss you off.”
He was only kidding, but the blood drained from my face as I replayed the crunch of Eric’s nose. I turned away so Christopher wouldn’t see how that comment had cut.
“Hey, what did I say?” He turned me to face him, his eyes concerned.
I shook my head, but he wouldn’t let it drop. Christopher was relentless. His mission in the future to make me respond to his gibes had shown me that.
“You hurt someone,” he said.
Some of his guesses were uncanny.
“My husband used to hit me.”I kept it matter of fact.“I joined karate for self-defense. I wanted to make him stop.”
“What did you do?”
“Broke his nose.”My hands shook as I revealed this bit of information. I didn’t like people knowing my secrets.
“Good. Bet he didn’t hit you again.”
His reaction surprised me.“Nope.”Thankfully, Christopher dropped the subject.
“How ‘bout I buy takeout and bring it over? You can tell what you know about Brandon. After your class.”
I hesitated, but there was no harm in letting him into my house. All I had on my agenda was watching episodes of my new favorite show, Buffy the Vampire Slayer. It was something I’d always wanted to watch. It was that or my usual fare, rom coms, and I wasn’t in the mood for that type of movie. These days I preferred butt-kicking to romance.
“Anything I should avoid food-wise?”
“Peppers and onions.”
“Easy. I hate onions too.”
I looked up. I’d never heard anyone else say that. People looked at me like it was a weird request. I’d been alone in the onion-hating club.
“How’s six?”
“Good.”That would give me time to clean up and change after my class. My email to Sensei had gone about how my original one had three and a half years ago. He’d invited me to join a women-only, all-levels class from four to five p.m. I missed the class dynamic and the exercise. My email explained that I had a throat injury and couldn’t speak, and I purchased a Gi.
Arriving at the dojo, Sensei Daniel suggested I stay after class to run through several katas and he’d place me in the level that was warranted. That was more than fair.
