Choices(Waiting for Forever BK 1) (34 page)

“Was that the first time you’ve ever had a flashback?” A flashback? I thought that only happened to people who had been in a war. My only problem was that I’d had the crap kicked out of me.

“I guess. I dream about it a lot, but nothing has ever happened while I was awake,” I admitted quietly. The guilt and the shame from being so weak, the feelings that had been barely controlled for weeks, finally came flooding to the surface. As I sat there, my face starting to heat, I wondered what the point of coming to self-defense was. If I was going to freak out every goddamn time someone came at me, I’d never be able to defend myself. I’d just curl up in a ball and take it. It was all just so useless. Pure rage coursed through me. I had finally gotten a job, and I was going to lose it because I was a wimp.

“I understand, Brian; I’ve had them. Flashbacks can be scary and disorienting. You just have to be patient with yourself. I think maybe the problem was putting you with someone you didn’t know and you don’t trust. Maybe if you keep working with Adam, we can help you work through it.” Sensei moved to his chair, linking his fingers behind his head.

“You want me to come back?” I asked, almost incredulous. How in the hell was I going to do this, to teach or even learn, when I couldn’t have a punch thrown at me?

“Of course I do,” he said, sitting forward, surprise evident in his tone. “I thought you wanted this job? I thought you wanted to learn from me and teach others. You’re not just going to give up, are you?”

“No, but how am I going to teach if I can’t have a punch thrown at me?”

To my surprise, he laughed.

“You really think you’re going to be scared of a punch from a five-year-old girl?” he chuckled again, and I thought about it for a minute before I felt myself relax. Sensei became pensive for a moment and then cocked his head to the side. “I also give private lessons to Adam. He started a couple of weeks before you did, around the time that boy was killed over in Dalton, which is where Adam goes to school. He’s at about the same level you are. What would you think of combining your sessions? Maybe working with another student will help you feel more relaxed in class?”

I sat back in my chair and considered his words. Working with another student, combining the sessions, wasn’t an issue for me, but how would Adam feel about Sensei using his time just to fix me?

“Sensei, if he’s been here longer, why isn’t he teaching instead of me?” I asked with a slight frown.

“First, Adam already has a job. He works over at the pharmacy. Second, Adam doesn’t have the patience to teach small children. Do you remember when I told you that you had the personality to teach, and that I would help you with the rest? Well, Adam is a great kid, but he doesn’t have the temperament to work with children.”

“Do you think he’d be okay with me taking up part of his time?” I asked tentatively.

“Let’s ask him. I’m sure he’s still outside. He was waiting to apologize.”

“Why the hell would he apologize?” I asked in utter disbelief. “I was the one who freaked out, not him.”

“You’ll have to ask him,” Sensei said with a small smile, and then he walked over to the large bookcase and pulled down a book, handing it to me. It was a battered self-help guide on post-traumatic stress disorder.

I smirked. I couldn’t help myself.

“A do-it-yourself guide to shrinking your own head?” I asked, and he shrugged.

“Are you already seeing a therapist?” he asked patiently.

“No,” I admitted. “To be honest, I’ve put the Schreibers through enough. Besides, I don’t really believe much in therapy.”

“I believe in making things happen for yourself, and that book did help me through a few rough patches.” Sensei pointed out a few marked pages that were dog-eared, some with highlighting. I could only imagine the kinds of flashbacks a man got from war.

“Thank you,” I said honestly as we both got up to walk out of the office. I felt his hand on my shoulder and briefly wondered how I would have made it through the last few weeks without all the people who’d stood by me. Richard, Carolyn, Kyle, and Sensei had made such a difference in my life since Jamie left, and it hurt to think about leaving them behind in the summer.

We were already starting to come up on Christmas, and I was shocked at how fast the time was going. Once I’d decided to follow Jamie that rainy day in August, I thought time would crawl until I could finally take off to find him, but it seemed as though time was moving almost too fast. I only hoped when the time came for me to leave, I would be ready.

“Brian,” Adam said as soon as we had emerged from the office. I noticed that the rest of the dojo was empty. “I am so sorry.”

I put up a hand to stop him; there was no point in his apologizing when he’d done nothing wrong.

“Adam, it wasn’t your fault. I don’t know how much you know about me,” I said, looking over at Sensei, feeling better when I saw his encouraging nod. “I was attacked a few months ago and beaten, and I haven’t really had much experience sparring outside of my personal sessions. When you came at me, I guess I had a flashback of my attack, and I wanted to say that I’m sorry. It wasn’t your fault at all, Adam, it was mine.” I shrugged as he started to shake his head.

“It’s not your fault,” Adam said quietly. “It’s Brad Mosely’s fault.” My eyes met his, and I saw sadness there, and something else—anger, maybe. “I followed your story in the newspapers and on the news. I really admire your courage; it’s one of the reasons I wanted to work with you today.” I couldn’t stop the chuckle that escaped, and his face flushed slightly in embarrassment.

“I’m not brave, Adam. In fact, I’m pretty terrified most of the time, but I appreciate what you said about it not being my fault.”

“Adam, Brian and I have been talking, and I think it would be good for him to work with another student in his private sessions. Since I’m also working one-on-one with you, I was wondering what you would think about combining your sessions with Brian’s? You’re at about the same level, and I think it might be good for both of you.” Adam’s face broke into a radiant smile, and I couldn’t help but smile back.

“I’m fine with that, so long as Brian is,” Adam said, looking at me. I nodded. “Well, then, I guess that makes us partners.”

21

A
DAM
turned out to be a great sparring partner, patient yet determined. Working together every day for the past couple of weeks, we had begun to make progress. I was starting to be able to block his attacks and had gained at least some confidence. We didn’t have class during that week because of the Christmas holiday, but I hoped we could start some more advanced topics when our private sessions with Sensei resumed. Richard had prescribed a mild anti-anxiety drug he wanted me to take, at least in the short term, to counter the stress I felt during the sparring sessions. He’d tried to get me to see a therapist, but I explained that I wanted to try to work things out on my own because soon I’d be on the other side of the country without any real access to pills or shrinks, and I needed to be able to deal with this.

A few days before Christmas, Carolyn and I were picking up my prescription at the local pharmacy where they’d recently installed kiosks for copying and printing pictures. I’d brought the one of Jamie and me in order to make a copy for my parents’ Christmas gift. I had made the gift myself in an effort to save every dime I could. It would be my first gift to them as my parents, and I wanted to make it special.

When I went up to the counter to have someone help me make the copy, I was surprised to see Adam standing there in a blue smock with his name emblazoned on his nametag. He grinned when he looked up and saw me standing at the counter.

“Yeah, I know, it’s not as cool as being a karate instructor, but it keeps gas in my car,” he said as he set down the box he’d been using to stock candy bars on a back counter. “Oh, I mean, is there something I can help you with today, sir?” His voice was deep and falsely serious, and I couldn’t help but laugh.

“Well, since I’m a defective karate instructor, I’m not sure it’s really as cool as it sounds,” I said with a snort. “And actually, there is something. Can you help me copy a picture?”

“You’re not defective,” he said, suddenly serious. I shrugged, and he changed the subject by asking, “Is it copyrighted?”

“No, it’s just a snapshot taken on a church outing last summer,” I said, trying to fight off the feeling of sadness that threatened to drown me, thinking about how much fun Jamie and I’d had that first day of the retreat. The picture was the only one I had of Jamie, and it meant everything to me. Even though a couple of guys had spoiled the retreat because of their anti-gay hatred, we had gotten through it together. Back then, we had gotten through everything together, which was one of the things that made his leaving so hard.

The picture itself was a reminder of that, since a couple of the harshest guys were in the picture with us. The outing leader had taken the picture, and I’d stolen it from a bulletin board at the church the day Mrs. Mayfield had found us in the tree house and dragged us to Pastor Moore. I held it up to show Adam, reluctant to let go when he reached for it.

“Brian, you have to let me see it if you want me to copy it,” Adam said with a chuckle, and I finally released it. When he looked down at it, his expression abruptly hardened. I don’t think I’d ever seen the normally jovial Adam look quite so fierce.

“What’s wrong?” I asked tentatively.

“Their names are Bobby and Karl, aren’t they?” he asked quietly, and I nodded. “They’re friends with this kid I go to school with, Jimmy Mavers.”

“I think I’ve met him; there was a Jimmy on that retreat too,” I said, curious at his reaction.

“The rumor in Dalton is that they had something to do with Ray’s murder. Only the cops there don’t seem to care too much about it since Jimmy’s father is the chief. I don’t know if he was involved, but no one has done anything.” He turned the picture over so he wouldn’t have to look at it and put it facedown on the scanner. Punching up a couple of things on the computer next to it, he programmed it to make one copy of the same size.

“Did you know the boy who was killed?” I asked, feeling uncomfortable talking about it but curious as well.

“Yeah, I did. He was one of my best friends, and he didn’t deserve what happened to him,” he said, hitting the enter key with unnecessary force. I was starting to feel a little nauseated, and I kept feeling a prickle of fear every time someone mentioned that kid’s name. Before I’d met Adam, Ray Andrews had been just an abstract boy with no face. Suddenly, he was a friend of Adam’s, and he seemed much more real.

“I’m sorry,” I said, at a complete loss.

“That’s why I started seeing Sensei,” he said in a whisper, looking around quickly. “I didn’t want to be next.”

“So you’re….” I trailed off, not wanting to say the word “gay” out loud. He nodded.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about that. In some ways, it made me happy to know I wasn’t alone, that there was someone who understood. However, it seemed to be open season on gays in Alabama. Jamie’s parents had dragged him halfway across the country, I’d had the shit kicked out of me, and bigots had murdered Adam’s friend.

Adam was a nice guy, and I could honestly say he was becoming a friend. I felt heat rise on the back of my neck just thinking about someone hurting him.

By the time Carolyn had finished her shopping, the copy Adam had made was safely in my pocket along with the original. I formally introduced my mother to Adam, since she’d only seen him around the dojo, and she seemed extremely happy that I’d found a friend.

When we got home, I took the picture Adam had copied for me and slid it into the attached frame on top of the wooden keepsake box I’d made for Richard and Carolyn in wood shop class. It had taken me the better part of four months to design the box, sand it, stain it, tool some decorative markings along the top of the frame, and finally varnish it. The frame had actually been my teacher’s idea. Even though the picture reminded me of fear and loss, it was a good candid shot of me that I thought they would appreciate. The light that shone in my eyes had never been there before, and even when I was on the other side of the country, they would be able to see me happy.

Christmas morning dawned bright and clear, and I couldn’t help the sadness that invaded my heart. It should’ve been my first of many Christmases as Jamie’s boyfriend. Instead, I was lying in bed alone, feeling the nearly suffocating weight of his absence as I looked up at his picture in its frame. The night before, I’d trimmed it neatly to remove the two boys, because after Adam had told me of their suspected involvement in Ray Andrews’s murder, I couldn’t stand to look at them anymore. It was as if their presence poisoned the beauty of the setting and of Jamie, and I did not want anything to taint my memory, or image, of him.

We generally didn’t go all out for Christmas at the Schreibers’ as some families did. I remember Jamie feeling particularly disgruntled on my behalf when he found out that my foster parents had only bought me jeans and tennis shoes for Christmas when we were twelve. The Schreibers didn’t have a lot, and the clothes were something I had really wanted. Jamie, of course, had gotten a new bike and a ton of other toys, which he promptly declared to be “ours.” Even then, even before we had any idea just how much we’d mean to each other, he’d been generous and kind. Since then, Richard and Carolyn had moved from stuff I needed to stuff I wanted, like different kits or parts for my models. Jamie had been satisfied with that but still decided his best gifts would be stuff we’d share.