Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) (33 page)

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.

“There are a few kids from the high school in this class, but mostly they’re from neighboring towns.”

“Sensei, there probably isn’t a person within a fifty-mile radius who hasn’t seen me on the news or in the paper.” To my surprise, I didn’t hang my head when I said this. Usually when I talked about the attack, or even my sexual orientation, I did so with some measure of shame. Since I’d started working with Sensei, I’d learned to hold my head high, no matter what the situation. I had to admit, the pride I felt in myself since starting my training gave me a sense of peace I’d never felt—well, outside of Jamie’s arms, anyway.

“Don’t worry about it, Brian; these are good kids. Some of them are even here for the same reason you are.” I looked up at him, surprised. He just nodded and started pulling out the protective gear for the night’s session. I took another drink of the water as the other students started to arrive.

“Hey, Coach!” a couple of the guys called as they walked in, and I noticed they were both from the basketball team. They nodded to me as I stood next to him and tried not to look out of place. The boys were already dressed and ready for class as they dropped their shoes and socks into their sports bags. I recognized these two guys from school, but I didn’t know them well, as they were a grade behind me.

“Guys, this is Brian. He’s helping me out by teaching some of the younger kids. He’s also going to be working with us here in this class.”

“Great! We can always use another good sparring partner,” said the taller of the two boys. He had a kind face, long wavy brown hair, and glasses. The other boy, a redhead with a million freckles, nodded in agreement.

“I’m Jeb,” said the boy with the red hair. He was at least three or four inches taller than I was, but he was skinny.

“Chris,” said the brown-haired boy, holding one hand up in a half wave. I nodded back at him and watched as a few more kids, mostly boys but not all, came in through the door. As the room started to fill, Sensei got all the students into rows, asking me to stay in the front with him. I wasn’t sure if it was for my safety or if he just wanted my help. Looking up at the clock, he called the students to attention and started us through some general warm-ups and lower-level positions. It was the part I liked best about class because I didn’t have to think about anything but the positions. I could just let my body follow the motions and let my mind stay relaxed and focused only on the movements and not anything else around me.

About twenty minutes into the lesson, Sensei instructed, “Okay, guys, let’s break up into pairs and practice the block from last week.” I stayed next to him since I didn’t know what the block from the previous week was, and I was just about to ask when another boy came up to us. Slightly taller than I was, he had short, artfully messy light-brown hair and wire-rimmed glasses. He looked excited but somewhat hesitant, as if one sudden move might startle me.

“Brian, can we work together?” he asked in a friendly tone. The boy looked perfectly comfortable in his karate gear, almost as if it was an extension of his own persona. Where I pulled and tugged at mine, feeling hot and confined, he just stood looking at ease. As my eyes met his, I saw that they were a brilliant shade of green, almost like emeralds, framed and shadowed by his glasses.

“Uhm, sure,” I said, feeling a little awkward and wondering what he knew about me. I glanced at Sensei.

“Adam, since this is Brian’s first class with us, let’s demonstrate the block for him, and then you can work with him,” Sensei told him and then stood in front of me, bowing to me. I bowed back, and then he went through a quick but detailed demonstration of the block I needed to learn. It was more complicated but similar to a few he’d taught me during our private sessions, so I went through it about a dozen times on my own, making sure I had it.

Then I turned to Adam.

At first, we practiced with me throwing some punches and a few kicks while he used the block very effectively to deflect my blows. I had worked up a nice sweat by the time we were ready to switch. Sparring with another person made me realize the moves I was learning to defend myself were working.

Bowing to Adam, I stood in my defensive stance, waiting for him to start. He took a deep breath, then asked if I was ready. I nodded, bracing myself to deflect his strikes. When he pulled back his arm to throw his first punch, all I could see was Brad Mosely. For the briefest moment in time, I was back in that room, on the ground, my body exploding in pain. I dropped my arms and shrank back from him, completely forgetting about the block I was supposed to be practicing. His blow landed directly on a tender area over my ribs, and I cried out in pain and shock.

“Oh my God, are you all right?” Adam asked, his face very pale.

“What happened?” Sensei asked as he jogged over to us.

“I… I can’t…,” I stammered, the room where they’d beaten me only just receding from my mind. Looking around, I saw I was in the dojo and everyone was looking at me. “I can’t do this!” Turning quickly, I grabbed my bag and headed for the door, forgetting I was barefoot.

“Brian,” Adam called out after me.

“Brian,” Sensei called out as well, nearly drowning out Adam’s voice. Then he told me quietly, “Please, go wait for me in my office and we’ll talk.” Looking around the room at all the faces staring at me, Adam’s with a mixture of horror and fear, I sighed and headed for Sensei’s office.

“Let him go,” I heard Sensei telling someone as I pulled the door closed behind me.

As I sat down in one of the old wooden chairs in front of Sensei’s desk, the scene replayed itself repeatedly in my head. Even though I’d been dreaming about the equipment room for weeks now, some of the dreams worse than others, it was the first time I’d ever freaked out while I was awake. If I was going to flip out every time someone threw a punch at me, then my career as a karate instructor would be very short-lived. I just didn’t understand. When Sensei and I had practiced kicks, punches, and blocks more times than I could count over the last few weeks, I’d never freaked out. It didn’t make sense that it would happen with this guy.

My right leg started to bounce in a jittery, almost involuntary movement as I sat waiting for Sensei to come into the office. I felt anxious and out of control. I couldn’t rid myself of the image. The old chair creaked as I stood up and started to pace, trying not to think about it. The images exploded in my head like the pain had exploded through my body. Lying there in that windowless room, the ceiling lights blocked out by the faces and the fists and the legs that were kicking me. I remembered begging them to stop before one of them kicked me in the face and my mouth filled with blood. I remembered curling up into a ball to try to protect myself from the blows, but one of their shoes stomped my chest. It wouldn’t have surprised me if it had left an imprint in my skin. They had mocked me for crying, calling me a sissy. They had kicked me in the head to stop me from screaming as the sounds tore from my throat. I remembered throwing up at one point.

Mostly, I remembered the suffocating fear and the crushing realization that they were going to kill me.

Class wouldn’t be over for another twenty minutes, and I already felt like a caged animal in the small, oppressive room. The stark white walls held posters of different karate diagrams, a rack of equipment, and a bookcase full of well-worn books. There wasn’t even a plant in there. Each decoration signified something about instruction of Coach’s sport.

There was really nothing to distract me from my own head.

It came as a complete surprise when the door opened just a few minutes later.

“Are you okay?” Sensei asked, and I shrugged. “Do you want me to take a look at your ribs?” Letting out a deep sigh, I dropped into the chair behind me.

“No, they may be bruised, but I’m okay.” I felt drained and just wanted to go home.

“Can you tell me what happened?” Sensei asked in a reassuring voice as he sat on the edge of the desk. He sat close enough to comfort me but not close enough to crowd me.

“I don’t know. I was standing there, in position to use the block, but when he went to throw the punch, I was back in that goddamned room getting my ass kicked. I lost my focus, and he nailed me in the ribs. It wasn’t his fault,” I added quickly, wanting to make sure Adam didn’t get into trouble.