The Art of Life (53 page)

               
Walking down the hallway, I come
to Jeremy’s door.
 
It is wide open and he
is in bed sleeping.
 
I kind of stand
there for a while, but then finally I take a deep breath and walk in.
 
Preferably, I would not like to wake
him.
 
I pull up the blanket and slowly
get into his bed.
 
He doesn’t move.
 
That’s good.
 
I lie down and turn to look at him.
 
Wanting to giggle, I realize how cute he is when he is sleeping.
 
Jeremy seems so peaceful.
 
That makes me smile.
 
I roll over and close my eyes.

               
Suddenly, Jeremy’s arm is around
me and he pulls me against him.
 
“You
really don’t think that you can sneak up on me, do you?” He murmurs in my ear.

               
“Sorry,” I whisper.
 
“I promise this will be the last night.”

               
He places his cheek on my
head.
 
“It’s fine Isabelle.
 
I actually like it.
 
Now, go to sleep, I have to work in the
morning.”

               
“Okay,” I sigh, enjoying his
touch.
 
It isn’t long before Jeremy is
asleep again, and then I follow soon after that.

               
The next morning, I awake to an
empty bed.
 
I burrow my face into the
pillow.
 
Okay, I am a dork, because it
smells like him.
 
Finally, with a sigh, I
get out of bed.
 
I walk down the hallway
and into the living room.
 
Suddenly, I
hear, “Good morning sunshine!”

               
 
I jump about ten feet in the air and spin
towards the kitchen.
 
Kent is standing
there, pouring a cup of coffee.
 
“You
scared me!” I yell.

               
“It’s not my fault that you
can’t sense anything.
 
Would you like
some coffee?” He asks jovially.

               
“Sure,” I yawn, walking over to
him.

               
Kent pours me a cup and asks,
“Cream, sugar?”

               
“Cream and a little bit of
sugar,” I reply.
 
“Nothing like how
Jeremy drinks it.”

               
Kent chuckles, “Yeah, it’s kind
of nasty.”

               
“So, you don’t work today?” I inquire,
going to sit down at the table.

               
“Nope,” Kent replies.
 
“I am a manager of a restaurant.
 
The weekends are busy usually.
 
I rotate with the assistant managers.
 
I work this weekend, so I have off today,
which means I can happily hang out with you.”

               
With a nod, I take a drink of my
coffee and then say, “Jeremy said you wanted to teach me some defensive moves,
or whatever.”

               
“Yup, some basic skills, so that
you have fighting chance next time.
 
It
is easy for a guy to overpower a girl, but there are things you can do to stop
him.”

               
“Like kick him in the nards,” I
reply.

               
Kent laughs, “
Yes,
that
definitely hurts.”

               
Sighing, I say, “I should have
done that.
 
It just happened so quickly.
 
I didn’t have time to think before he was
choking me.
 
Then I had no idea what to
do.”

               
“Eye gouging works,” Kent
replies.
 
“Blind them and it gives you an
out.”

               
“That is seriously gross,” I
gasp.
 
“Ugh.”

               
He laughs, “Yup, that’s why I
said it, to gross you out, but it still works.”

               
“I don’t think I am hungry
anymore,” I moan.

               
With a snort, Kent says, “Get a
stronger stomach than that.
 
You are such
a girl.
 
Cassandra is the same way.”

               
“We are girls!” I exclaim,
giggling.

               
“Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” he
retorts, rolling his eyes.
 
“I am going
to make you breakfast and then we are going to get started.”

               
So, Kent makes me pancakes and
they are the best pancakes ever!
 
“These
are so awesome!” I moan between bites.
 
“Oh
my gosh
!”

               
“I do work in a restaurant,” he
replies.
 
“A really nice restaurant, so
you learn a thing or two.”

               
“I need to live with you.
 
Jeremy can’t cook.”

               
That makes Kent laugh.
 
“No, no, he can’t.
 
Whoever he ends up with better know how to
cook.
 
Otherwise, they are going to have
a troubled relationship.”

               
“I will try to teach him how to
make simple things,” I state.
 
“Okay, I
am done.
 
I will do the dishes.”

               
“Sounds good,” Kent says.
 
“I cook.
 
I hate doing dishes.”
 
I just
laugh at him and get up to clean.
 
We
talk and get to know each other better.
 

               
He is actually really
funny.
 
“You guys crack me up,” I
snicker.

               
“You need to go out in public
when we are all together.
 
We are
RIDICULOUS!
 
Cassandra just groans a
lot.
 
She is actually looking forward to
having you along.
 
We want to go to
Luke’s sometime soon.”

               
“The
nightclub!?”
I gasp.

               
With a dumb look, Kent draws
out, “
Yyyyessss
.
 
We go there regularly.”

               
“I am not 21!
 
I am 18!
 
I have never been to a nightclub!”

               
“Yes, but every other Saturday
they have what we call, minor night.
 
The
lower floor is for people under 21 and the upper gallery, where the bar is, is
for adults.”

               
I open my mouth and punch him
the arm.
 
“I am an adult.”

               
Snorting, Kent says, “Uh huh,
once you graduate, I will consider you an adult.
 
ANYWAY, Josh’s older brother is Luke of
Luke’s, so we can sneak you up top.”

               
“I am not going to let him get
fined over something so stupid,” I snap.

               
“We aren’t going to let you
drink.
 
We can just say you wandered
up.
 
It will be fine.
 
There are back ways to get you out, or do you
really want us to hang out on the lower level with people your age?”

               
Shaking my head, I say, “
No, that
would be dumb.
 
Fine, I will go.”

               
“Sweet!”
Kent exclaims happily.
 
“Cassandra will
be super excited.
 
I am actually going to
text her now.”

               
Putting my hand up, I say, “Not
until my throat heals!”

               
“Of course not,” Kent
groans.
 
“I would never expect that.”

               
“Okay,” I sigh thankfully.
 
“So, shall we get started on kicking some
butt?”

               
A sudden wicked smile passes over
Kent’s face, “Oh definitely.
 
Come on,
stand up.”
 
I follow him.
 
He moves the coffee table, so that we have an
open area.
 
“Now, I am not going to teach
you how to break arms, or kick someone in the face.”

               
“What!?
 
Why?
 
There is no fun in that!”

               
“Isabelle, would you really be
able to do that, if you were to be attacked again?
 
Remember how frightened you were?
 
You were pushed into flight or fight
response.
 
Even the biggest guys have the
same reaction.
 
We need to have you learn
how to be the one winning the fight.
 
That doesn’t necessarily mean you are going to decapitate your
opponent.”

               
Raising an eyebrow, I retort,
“Yeah, that would have been cool at the time though.”

               
“Cool, but messy,” Kent
laughs.
 
“Let’s get started.
 
I’ll explain things to you first.
 
In combat, even in hand to hand, winning is
all about gaining ground and pushing the opponent into a retreat.
 
The person advancing is the person winning
the fight.
 

               
For women facing men in a fist
fight, the man is almost always at a height and weight advantage over the
woman.
 
The man’s center mass is going to
be too hard to push against or strike into so the best areas are below the
naval or above the collarbone.
 
Are you
with me so far?”

               
I nod my head.
 
“Yes.”

               
“Alright, when the man moves in
to attack, regardless of the motive or the technique, his goal is to advance
forward to gain control.
 
The first move
must never be an attack driven into an attack.”

               
“What do you mean by that?” I
ask.

               
Kent replies, “You don’t want to
attack with him advancing into you.
 
You
want to make him stop and then attack.”

               
“Oh okay.”

               
He continues, “The first move
must be one that stops the attacker’s momentum.
 
The simplest way is to do a very simple and a very natural body movement
that doesn’t require thinking, timing or technique.
 
Simply put, you just need to swing your arm
out with your fingers apart and put them into the man’s face.
 
This move can be done at any striking
distance and it does NOT need to have any power behind it.

               
Putting your hand into the guy’s
face as he advances basically makes him walk right into your fingertips which
then in turn hit all the soft spots on the face such as the eyes and nose.
 
This stops him from advancing because it’s
unexpected and it takes his brain a bit to analyze what just happened.
 
This move is sometimes called a finger dart
or finger strike, even though it’s done without any specific form, technique or
target.
 
It’s just putting your hand into
the person’s face.
 

               
So, now you are going to
try.
 
Not at full speed obviously, but I
am going to come at you and I want you to do what I told you.
 
Alright?”
 

               
I nod.
 
Kent starts to walk at me.
 
I bring my hand forward towards his
face.
 
It lands exactly where he said it
was supposed to.
 
“I did it!” I exclaim.

               
“Yes, you did.
 
We will continue to practice all this because
I want it to become your first instinctual move.
 
I want it to come to you, without you really
thinking about it.
 
So, let’s do this
again.”
 
Which we do.
 
Finally, he says, “Alright, the second step
is the instep kick.
 
It’s done as a
follow up after the opponent’s momentum is stopped.