Chapter Two #2
The previous owners used the separate garage for storage and an office.
I use it for something else. There’s a punching bag for me to practice hitting and kicking.
Some hand weights, a skipping rope, mats and such.
Mateo teaches mixed martial arts. How to throw a punch, guard myself, and get out of a hold.
There’s a lot of focus on eyes, throat, groin.
He comes over regularly to train me in private. Wednesday night suited him this week.
I started training with him not long after my ex got arrested.
Some online forums theorized that I helped him.
Others went even farther, claiming that the evidence pointed to me as the killer.
Which is the truth. But there’s no getting around the fact that I had an airtight alibi.
Then came the death threats from strangers.
People yelling in my face in front of my apartment.
And then some guy grabbed me and shook the shit out of me.
His niece had gone missing the year before.
Mateo is about my height with more muscles than I can count, a buzz cut, and olive skin.
We’re both wearing shin and foot guards, sparring gloves, and mouth guards to spare ourselves from the brunt of the attack.
He blocks a particularly devastating roundhouse kick from me. Then says, “That was half-assed.”
“Harsh.”
“Go again.”
I assume the stance—my fighter’s kamae. Feet shoulder width apart with my kicking leg at the back. Twist my hips and bring my rear foot forward and straighten the leg.
He grunts as he blocks the hit. “Better. Keep your hands up.”
I throw a jab, which he dodges.
“Come on, Sidney. Show me who’s boss.”
I sway backwards, avoiding an uppercut.
“That’s it. Good work.”
Now I’m in the zone. Which is when I hear the rumble of an engine coming down the street.
For a moment I think it might be Noah returning home early, but then the vehicle drives straight past. This second of lost focus is all it takes.
Mateo’s right hook really is a thing of beauty.
His gloved hand sails through the air and his fist slams into the side of my face, and oof.
“Hey,” says Noah as he climbs out of his car.
It’s Thursday night and the street is otherwise empty.
Midnight is a quiet time when this place becomes a safe space for me to show my face and take a walk.
There’s usually just me, the streetlights, and neat rows of houses sitting in silence.
I didn’t account for him arriving home from work so late.
The smile falls off his face as he steps closer. “What the fuck? Sid, who hurt you?”
“It was an accident.” I touch my swollen and bruised cheek. “I got distracted during training.”
“What sort of training?”
“Self-defense.”
“You do boxing or something?”
“Mixed martial arts.”
He gives me a long look. “And you’re sure it was an accident?”
“Yes. Mateo has been training me for years. He felt awful about it. Though it sort of balances out the time I split his eyebrow, and he had to get it glued.”
“What distracted you?”
“I can’t remember,” lies my lying tongue.
His shoulders ease as the tension leaves his body. Though the frown doesn’t totally vacate his face. It lingers in the furrows on his forehead. He peruses my tank, shorts, and sneakers and asks, “You heading out?”
“Going for a walk.”
“Alone at this hour of the night?”
“I like the quiet and I’m kind of nocturnal.”
“Would you mind if I came with you?”
I open my mouth, but it takes a moment for words to form. It’s sweet of him to worry. But I can look after myself. “There’s no need to—”
“It’s just that I’ve been stuck in the kitchen all day.
” And he gives me the smile. The one that hits me straight in the heart and between the hips.
Hana performed a litany of online searches and confirmed he shouldn’t be a danger to me.
But she doesn’t know the effect he has on me.
This is dangerous. Losing focus and getting punched in the face confirmed as much.
“I have a taser,” I say. “And pepper spray.”
His brows rise. “I promise to mind my manners.”
“No…what I mean is, you don’t have to worry about me.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I wait for him to change his mind or make an excuse and go inside. But none of those things happen. “You still want to come on my walk?”
“I really do.”
“Let’s go then.”
The lake lies to the west of us. I tend to vary my route, but rarely my destination.
Walking helps on the nights I need to outpace the past. It reminds me there’s a big, beautiful world out there just waiting to be discovered.
A dog barks somewhere and soft music can be heard coming from a house in the distance.
Noah says nothing. Just walks beside me with his hands stuffed in his pants pockets.
I like how he doesn’t feel the need to make conversation.
I used to be chatty, but now I guess I’m more used to silence.
He does, however, keep giving me side eyes and a hint of a smile.
It seems companionable or friendly. But my heart of course completely overreacts.
Walking with Noah just might be the most exciting thing to happen to me in years.
We cover a couple of blocks and pass the brewery, a coffee shop, dispensary, and pizza place.
The only other signs of life are a cat dashing across the road and the occasional car driving past. I feel oddly delicate beside his brawn despite my ample ass.
And he’s definitely shortened his stride so as not to outpace me.
The sleeves of his white work tee are rolled back, showing off his biceps just so.
I should probably stop ogling him. That would be good.
We soon clear suburbia and hit the shoreline.
The lake is a dark expanse of water beneath a sky full of stars.
There are a couple of boats anchored nearby, and a warm breeze is blowing.
But otherwise, all of the world is silent and still.
Home is for feeling safe and sound. Standing here by the water is for breathing deep and being free.
Noah takes it all in, not talking for a while. Then he clears his throat and says, “This doesn’t suck.”
“No,” I agree. “It doesn’t.”
“Choosing Vermont as the place to slow down and stress less is working well. And you’ve lived here your whole life?”
“I grew up on the other side of the city, but…yeah.”
He waits for me to continue.
“My, um, grandmother raised me. Then, after she passed, the house was too big for just me. And I was ready for a change of scenery, so I moved to South End.”
“No siblings?”
“No,” I say. “What about you?”
“Born and raised in Sacramento. My parents and younger sister still live there. She’s married to a great girl with a baby on the way.”
“You’re going to be an uncle. Nice.”
He smiles and tips his head back to stare at the sky. “I used to love stargazing when I was a kid. Too much light pollution in L.A. This is a little better, though.”
“Which is your favorite constellation?”
He points overhead. “Ursa Major. What about you?”
“Centaurus.”
“Some solid stars,” he says.
And I am not imagining things when he steps just a little closer.
No internal alarms start ringing. Nothing about him makes me nervous in a bad way and sets off my fight-or-flight response.
A very good thing. Though it would be great to not overthink it and enjoy the moment.
Something which is unlikely to happen, however.
“Tell me about your day,” he says.
I think it over. “I spilled coffee on my keyboard for the hundredth time. Kind of amazed it hasn’t died on me yet, actually.”
“I salute your keyboard’s staying power.”
“Me too.” I smile. “And I came up with an amazing new bagel combo for lunch.”
“Tell me.”
“Avocado, ham, a fried egg, cream cheese, and a lemon-with-cracked-pepper-and-sea-salt spice mix.”
“That sounds really good.”
“It was some epic comfort food. What’s your favorite filling?”
“I am pretty traditional with the cream cheese, thin-sliced red onion, capers, and lots of salmon.”
“It’s traditional for a reason though, right?” I ask with a smile. “How was your day?”
“Someone used one of my knives. But it was okay.”
“You don’t like people using your knives?”
“No. I have been known to be weirdly possessive about them. It’s not exactly unheard of in the industry. They cost me a lot of money and I look after them well.”
“That makes sense. You’ve got to have the right tools.”
He just nods.
“Are you happy you didn’t freak out?”
“I really am. Feels like a positive step forward, you know?”
“That’s good,” I say. “So, your life in L.A. was tense?”
“Yeah. When you find yourself losing your shit five times a night, five nights a week, you know it’s time to make a change.” The breeze picks up, tousling his thick dark hair. Being here with him is nice. Sharing this with him. “Ever get the feeling that your life isn’t turning out how you wanted?”
“Yeah. I, um, I’m familiar with that feeling.”
“Success looked different when I was younger. I thought it equaled instant happiness. The high pressure, long hours, endless stress, but good money sort of situation. Working where I did made me a better chef. But it turned me into a miserable fucking human being,” he says with a dark laugh.
“Which is my way of saying I like this a lot. Being here with you.”
“I like it too.”
No one has been this open and honest with me in forever. Not someone I just met. What must it be like to be so willing to take a chance on people getting to know the real you? To be brave and show them all of your faults and flaws?
He takes a deep breath and turns back to the water. “Tell me something else about you.”
“Um. Let me think…” I stare out at the water too and think calm thoughts. “I wanted to be a teacher when I was at college.”
“You like kids?”
“I did. Yeah. No idea if I would have been any good at it.”
“What happened?”
“My life changed…I guess I changed.”