Copyright © to the author.
**
Mark awoke Saturday to the sound of rain pounding on the roof. He glanced at his clock: eight thirty. If he hurried, he had enough time to warm up, eat something light and shower. The thought of being with Melina propelled him out of bed. He stretched, donned his sweats, and padded down to the basement to begin his day with a little tai chi.
He found Mary already there, intent upon the exercise. Without a word, Mark took his place beside her. Opting for the abbreviated version, he quickly settled into the discipline.
"How come you're skipping some of the postures?" Mary asked.
"I have to be somewhere at nine thirty," he replied.
"Where?"
"Friend's house. Her dad wants me to show her a couple of self-defense moves."
"Her?"
"Yes, her."
"You're going to a girl's house?"
"If you don't concentrate on what you're doing, you'll get it wrong, and that won't do you any good."
Both fell silent for a few minutes as they went through flowing postures.
"Is she cute?"
In spite of himself, Mark grinned.
"Very."
"Do you want her to be your girlfriend?"
"Quit acting like such a kid, Mary."
"That's not a kid question," Mary protested. "A kid would accuse you of having a girlfriend."
Unable to frame a good response, Mark concentrated on the postures. He eyed the wall clock, and wound down his workout.
"You're looking good," he said to his sister as he made for the stairs. "Your wrist bothering you any?"
"It's still stiff," she said with a grimace. "But the stretching seems to help."
"Keep it up," Mark said, his foot at the bottom stair.
"Don't worry about that," Mary said, her voice grim. "I will never let those bastards push me around again."
Mark gawped at his normally gentle sister. Had she really said what he thought she had said?
"Don't look at me like that," Mary commanded. "I'm not a little girl any more, and I keep my eyes open. If I don't learn how to handle bullies now, I'll be pushed around for the rest of my life, like Luke."
Mark continued to stare at his sister as she assumed another posture.
"Get lost," she said. "Go over to your not-girlfriend's house."
He turned and walked up the stairs, lost in thought. He had thought that he knew Mary. How weird to find out she wasn't at all who he thought she was.
Promptly at nine thirty, Mark pressed the Taylors' doorbell. He heard the faint sound of feet pounding, then the click of the deadbolt. He inhaled, dropped his shoulders and stood as tall as he could. The door opened to reveal a smiling Melina clad in gray sweatpants and a green T-shirt. To Mark's eyes, she looked fabulous.
"Hi," she said, and opened the door wider. "Come on in."
"Hi," he said, giving her his best smile as he crossed the threshold.
"Mom and Dad are in the living room," she said, trotting up the stairs. "Dad said it's the only room big enough for this."
At the top of the stairs, she made a sharp left and led him into large room with the furniture pushed to the walls.
"Wow!" he said, looking around. The ceiling was at least twelve feet high, and the room itself was large enough to house an entire martial arts class. "This is great!"
Mrs. Taylor smiled with satisfaction.
"This room sold us on the house," she said. "Isn't it grand?"
"My mom would love this," he said. "She's into old houses from the early part of the twentieth century, and that's what this is, isn't it?"
"Built in nineteen-ten," Joe Taylor said, hoping his wife wouldn't inflict one of her prolonged discussions of architecture on the poor kid. "But you didn't come over to talk about old houses, and you've got a game later, if the rain lets up. So let's get started."
"Sure, Colonel," Mark said, his eyes twinkling as if he knew exactly what the man was thinking and agreed with the sentiment.
Joe Taylor smiled. He liked this kid. Unlike Pete, Mark had a quiet sense of humor that sneaked up on a person. Ultimately, that could prove funnier than Pete's more overt style.
The three Taylors trooped to the middle of the living room floor.
"You're joining us?" Mark said to Mrs. Taylor.
"Sure," she said. "In my line of work, people can sometimes go crazy and violent all at once. It's always helpful to know a few tricks to deal with that sort of patient."
"You mean like drug users?"
"Mostly substance abusers, but sometimes even diabetics can get a little wacky. I remember one fellow we were trying to transport who suddenly jumped up and ran off down the street wearing only his bikini briefs."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Fortunately for him, it was about six a.m., so none of his neighbors got an eyeful. He was absolutely mortified later."
"Honey, we can tell war stories some other time," Joe said. "Let Mark begin."
She rolled her eyes, then cocked an eyebrow at him. Mark cleared his throat.
"Well, the first thing you need to know about self defense is that most of it happens in your head. If you have the right attitude and focus, you're ninety percent there. But if you give in to fear, or let yourself be distracted, the bad guy almost always wins."
Joe nodded approvingly.
"So when you find yourself in a scary situation, the first thing you may do is panic. But what you have to do is not panic. So if you can think of your brain as a tape player, when you feel fear, push your brain's pause button. Then focus on what's happening and what you need to do to survive and escape."
"But if I'm already afraid, how can I not be afraid?" Melina asked, frowning.
"Oh, you can't, at least not at first. But you can put your fear to one side and deal with it later. It's like when someone says or does something that makes you mad. Maybe you can't say and do anything right then, so you deal with the problem and put your feelings aside for later. You're still mad, but you're not acting on it."
Her face cleared and she nodded.
Joe Taylor nodded approvingly. Good solid kid.
"So you're all with me?" Mark asked.
The three nodded.
"Good. Let's try something before we start the elementary moves, though. Melina?"
He gestured her forward. She eyed him and stepped forward.
"All right. I want you to stand there. I'm going to do something, and I want you to say what you're thinking and feeling."
"Okay."
He walked to the door, waited a few seconds, then charged, screaming and raising a fist. He stopped just inches from her face. Involuntarily, she shrank from him and stiffened, her green eyes huge in her pale face.
"Quick. What are you feeling?"
"Uh, fear."
"What else?"
"I feel trapped."
"What were you thinking when I came at you?"
She considered.
"Nothing. I couldn't think, I was so scared."
"Exactly."
"Huh?"
"When you let fear take over your mind, you can't think. That's why you have to hit your pause button. So let's try it again."
This time, he walked behind her.
"Ready?"
"Uh, yeah. I guess."
He waited a few seconds, then sprang at her back, wrapping an arm around her neck. He could feel her heart pounding.
"What are you thinking?"
"You're really strong, and how am I going to get out of this?"
