We sit at a square dining table, one person per side, and Mrs. Green sets a plate in front of each of us. A familiar roast. I glance at Devon, and one side of his mouth hitches up.
“It smells great,” I say to fill the silence. “By the way, you did a great job of teaching Devon to cook. He made your famous roast for me a while back.”
“He did?” She sounds delighted. “I’m so glad he remembers how. I had my doubts.”
“So, dear.” Mr. Green pours us each a glass of lemon water. “Do you plan on being a professional fighter forever, or do you intend to settle down and have children?”
I break into a coughing fit, startled by the question. Who the hell even asks that kind of thing five minutes after meeting someone? Once I’ve caught my breath, I take a few seconds to think before answering.
“Not forever. My body will wear out eventually. But I want to be involved in the sport. Perhaps in a coaching or umpiring role.” I don’t respond to the question about kids, because honestly, they don’t figure into my plan right now. Maybe they will eventually—who knows, I might discover a maternal streak—but I’m not planning for them, and I’m not comfortable discussing that kind of major life decision with people I hardly know.
“Devon.” His mother turns to him. “Will you say grace?”
I watch as the others bow their heads and press their hands together, and I mimic the action. Devon murmurs a few words, and then they collectively say “Amen.” I wait until Mr. Green takes his first bite before digging in, unsure of the proper protocol.
The food is even better than Devon’s, and I make sure Mrs. Green knows how much I enjoy it. After a while, I decide it’s time to steer the conversation where I want it to go.
“Tell me about Devon when he was younger.” I send him a sly look. “I want to know all the embarrassing stories.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t seem overly concerned by what they might say.
Mrs. Green wipes her mouth on a napkin. “Devon has always been accident prone.”
“I’m not sure that’s quite the right phrase for it,” Mr. Green adds. “More like, fate had it out for him.”
My eyes widen. This sounds good. “How so?”
“His life has been a series of near misses.” Mrs. Green cuts her potatoes as she speaks. “That’s why we never understood it when he took up martial arts. He was always the child who fell down, broke bones, and got back out there like it never happened.” Her tone is laced with affection, and something squeezes in my chest. Even if she doesn’t understand him, she loves him very much. “It got worse as he grew older. He fell from the roof when he was cleaning the gutters. Was in a car wreck a couple of years ago and walked away with only a few scratches. Then there was that time he walked in on a burglar…”
She trails off, and Mr. Green picks up the story. “The guy had a knife, but Devon thought it would be a great idea to tackle him anyway. He had to get twelve stitches in his arm afterward.”
“But I caught the guy,” Devon says, as though that’s the most relevant part. “Subdued him until the police could arrive.”
“It was foolish,” his mother snaps, her voice cracking with emotion.
“We lived to tell the tale.” Devon is being his usual flippant self, and it’s going down like a lead balloon with his parents.
Desperate to find a lighter subject, I ask, “What about during high school? Did he go through an awkward phase?”
Mrs. Green’s lips purse more tightly. “My son doesn’t know the meaning of awkward. He was born with an internal compass that seems to steer him through every situation he comes across.”
“I’ve noticed that,” I murmur, more to myself than them. I smile at Devon. “So am I to believe you’re incredibly lucky, or incredibly unlucky?”
“Lucky,” he says at the same time that both of his parents reply, “Unlucky.”
And now I have mixed feelings. I wish I hadn’t opened this topic. It makes me wonder though… if he’s as reckless as they say, is my heart one of the things he’s going to be reckless with?
“Hopefully, you’ll have a calming effect on him.” This comes from Mr. Green. “Help him see that there’s more to life than MMA.”
I snort because I’m the last person they should be looking to for that. “Actually, I love training, and I can see why he’s gone down the path he has.”
Not for the first time, Mrs. Green’s expression makes me wonder if I sprouted an alien head. “Why is that?”
“It’s a lot of fun. It’s satisfying, and frankly, the adrenaline rush can be addictive.” I smile at Devon, and his answering smolder gives me butterflies. It’s grateful and adoring, and just as compelling as adrenaline. “I think training is what saved me.”
“Saved you?” she echoes uncertainly.
“Yeah.” I seem to be making a habit of opening up lately and I’m not sure what to make of it. “I was the daughter of a broke single mom. She gave me everything she could, but my childhood was tough. When I started at the local gym, I found a reason to feel good about myself. Something to give me meaning. I don’t know where I might have ended up otherwise.”
