CHAPTER FOUR
A REASON TO FIGHT
“Okay,” Soldier said, leading the way into his living room, then turning around to face me. “Come at me.”
I stood just inside the screen door, my mouth falling open and my head shaking.
“No way,” I protested with a nervous laugh.
Soldier was huge. He said he was six foot seven or something like that, and his body reminded me of an angry bear standing on its back legs.
Big, muscular, powerful. Me attacking him would be like a kitten attacking a wolf, and even though I knew in my heart he’d never do anything to hurt me, the thought struck a fear in me I couldn’t shake.
He stretched out his arms, gesturing with his hands for me to come forward. “No, come on, man. Let’s go.”
“You’ll crush me!”
He shook his head. “I won’t do anything to you. I just want you to show me. If you didn’t know me and I was a strange guy inside your house and you had to protect your mom, what would you do?”
My mouth went dry at the thought as I stared ahead, imagining he was a stranger.
Enormous and intimidating. All of his tattoos and scars.
The long hair and the muscles. The horrible things he could do to me.
The things he could do to Mom. Oh God. I closed my eyes, not wanting to imagine it, but I did.
I swallowed at my scratchy throat and gave my head a little shake. “I-I can’t—”
“Noah,” Soldier said, his voice stern.
I opened my eyes and looked at him, seeing my friend and not a monster, like Dad.
“You don’t have time,” he said, dipping his chin to his chest. “I broke into your house. I’m standing in the living room. You and your mom are alone—”
“I could come get you,” I interjected weakly.
He shook his head. “No, I’m not around. I’m at work. I’m too far away. You need to do something. You need to slow me down. What do you do?”
“Grab the phone and call 911,” I said, determination seeping into my tone.
“Yeah, you could do that,” he said, nodding, and my chest puffed with pride. “Smarter to do that actually. And if something ever happened, that’s exactly what I’d want you to do. Grab the phone and run. Run as fast and as far away as you can get.”
“I’d get Mom first—”
“No,” he said, shaking his head. “You run. You always run, okay? You don’t walk into trouble.
Grab the phone, call the cops, and get as far away as fuckin’ possible.
But right now”—he steadied his stance, widening his feet and holding his arms out wider—”I’m teaching you to fight.
So, come on; hit me. Aim low. That’s your best bet.
It’d be better if you were at my back. Catch me by surprise, jump on me, aim for my head and face and start swinging.
But that’s not what you have right now. Charge at me. Come on; do it.”
I laughed, disbelieving. “What if I hurt you?”
“That’s the idea,” he said, nodding. “Imagine I’m the baddest, scariest person you know. Imagine I’m your dad.”
Darkness fell over Soldier’s usually kind eyes, and then he really was scary. The way he said those words—your dad … it wasn’t just like he knew Dad was bad, which he did. I had told him, and I was sure Mom had too. But he sounded like it was personal. Like Dad hadn’t just hurt us, but him too.
I stood there with my back to the door, staring ahead at Soldier, and I forced my mind to replace his image with Dad’s.
I thought about him hitting me, yelling at me, shoving me around.
I thought about him pushing Mom and dragging her to the bedroom, locking the door behind him, and making her scream and cry until all she could do was beg in whispers.
I thought about Tommy’s house. About the gun and the kid and the BANG that had cracked against a clear night sky.
He killed that kid, I thought. He killed that kid, and one day, he might kill me.
Not unless I kill him first.
And then something furious and wild rose from my belly and ripped through my throat.
It came out of my mouth with a bloodcurdling cry as I crouched and barreled forward on a surprising burst of energy.
The crown of my head pummeled Soldier’s gut, and upon impact, my fists flew, hitting him with all my strength, anywhere I could reach.
He took the hit with an oof, giving me a moment to get a few swings in before taking my shoulders in his hands and holding me back.
“Okay, okay,” he said, looking me in the eye. “Easy. Take a breath.”
My chest heaved, and my fists trembled at my sides as I crashed back to earth, back to reality, and saw my friend instead of my devil of a father.
Then tears sprang to my eyes, and I didn’t know why.
I sniffled, embarrassed, and quickly diverted my gaze to the floor.
“Hey,” Soldier said quietly. “It’s okay. It’s just the adrenaline. You’re all right.”
“Men don’t cry after a fight,” I replied.
“There’s nothing wrong with crying. It only means you have a heart. Don’t lose that, and you’ll be just fine.”
“Do you cry?”
Soldier chuckled, and I looked up to watch him nod.
“Yeah, I cry.”
Then I nodded too. Because if Soldier could cry, then it must be all right.
“Okay,” he said, releasing my shoulders and taking a step back.
“Do it again. But this time, focus your shots. Don’t flail around aimlessly.
If you’re fighting someone bigger than you, you need to do as much damage as you can, as quickly as you can.
Okay? You wanna aim here”—he laid a hand to the right side of his abdomen, just below his ribs—”and here.
” He gestured at his crotch, and I wrinkled my nose.
“You want me to punch you in the dick?”
He grimaced. “No, not particularly, but …” He sighed and shrugged, then took his stance as I backed up toward the door again. “I told you I’d teach you to knock me on my ass, so that’s what we’re gonna do. But just, uh … try to be gentle, okay?”
I nodded, and again, I charged.
***
Weeks went by, and every few days, Soldier found the time to teach me to fight.
I didn't think I was very good. In fact, I knew I wasn't. Especially against someone as big and strong as him. But he taught me precision, and he taught me where to hit to—at the very least—slow my opponent down, and above all else, he gave me the confidence to try.
Over the years, Jay had become a really good friend, but I thought, over just a few months, Soldier had become the best one I'd ever had.
One weekend, the three of us—Mom, Soldier, and me—all went to Harold's department store to buy a big screen TV for Soldier's living room. He said he'd never had a big TV before, and he joked around that he wanted one to fit the entire wall in front of his couch.
“I wanna feel like I'm sitting in a movie theater,” he said as we browsed the selection of televisions.
“What about this one?” I asked, running ahead to point at the biggest TV I had ever seen in my life.
Soldier and Mom followed behind me. They walked holding hands, and it didn't bother me at all. Actually, I really liked them together. I liked it a lot.
I glanced behind me to look at them, and I thought, We feel like a family. A real one.
Like Soldier was my dad and he was married to Mom.
God, I wished Soldier could've been my dad instead of the one I had.
There was nothing I wished for more.
Soldier's eyebrows rose as he looked ahead. “That's one big fuckin' TV,” he muttered. “How big is that?”
“It's …” Mom bent over to read the price tag and snorted a laugh. “Ninety-eight inches. And it's … a lot of money.”
“It would fit the wall,” I reasoned, still looking up at Soldier.
“I mean, you're not wrong,” he agreed, hesitation pinching his brows together. “It'd fit the whole damn house.”
Mom wandered down the row of TVs and said, “I think we should be looking at something more like … this.” She pointed at a TV that was significantly smaller. “This one is sixty-five inches, and it's on sale.”
I sighed. “But this one is bigger,” I complained as Soldier laid his hands on my shoulders and steered me away from the biggest TV I'd ever seen in my life and toward one that was only a little bigger than the one Mom and I had in our house.
“But this one,” Mom said, “actually fits.”
“I can make big things fit into small places,” Soldier said absent-mindedly, glancing at the price tag for the TV Mom had found. “A little pushing and a little lube and—”
“Oh my God, Soldier, stop it,” Mom scolded, smacking his chest and rolling her eyes, but they both laughed and smiled at each other, and a warm feeling spread through my chest.
No, I had never wanted anything more than I wanted Soldier to marry my mom and be my dad forever. If that could just happen, I'd never want another thing for as long as I lived.
Soldier bought that TV, and he helped the guy at the store tie it to the roof of Mom's car. We drove it back to our community on the outskirts of River Canyon, left the big box in Soldier's living room, and then he suggested we order pizza for dinner.
We ate at our house, and as we sat around the table, eating and talking and laughing, I wondered why we couldn’t just live in one house.
One table, one couch, one TV.
Why did Soldier go home at night sometimes when his home could be with us?
I didn't say anything because I knew Mom would have some reason why things were the way they were, and I knew Soldier would just smile and shrug and say something like, It's just the way it is, buddy.
But it felt stupid. I couldn't explain why it felt stupid; it just did.
And maybe it was because home stopped feeling like home unless he was around.
I couldn't say when that feeling had begun, but all I knew was, the second he left our house, he took the warm and comfy feelings with him.
When he wasn't around, I didn't feel safe, and even though Mom never said it aloud, I knew she felt the same.
***
“Ready to hang that TV, bud?” Soldier asked, leaning against the wall beside the couch.