Drawn (4 page)

“Everyone is tall compared to you Kensi. You’re a waif,” inserts Jessica, before turning back to me. “Anyway, it would be great if you could come. We’ll meet at the Uni Bar and watch the pool competition, have something to eat and then get the train in with everyone else.”

“That sounds perfect,” I say, grinning like a Cheshire cat. This will be the first outing I’ll have as an eighteen year old. What better way to celebrate than going to my first University party?

***

“Are you serious?!” I whine. “What do you mean I can’t go? I’ll be eighteen. It’s not like I’ll be the only eighteen year old in the entire student body! It’s a university party!” 

My father doesn’t like the idea of me going out next Thursday and continues to lay down the law. “No daughter of mine is going to some drunken uni student party. You have no idea what goes on in those places,” he points out.

“That’s only because I’ve never had a chance. If I had have been a ‘normal’ person growing up, then I would have gone out with my friends in high school like everybody else did,” I argue, using my fingers as quotation marks. “Mum! Help me out here,” I beg, looking at her beseechingly. As strict as my father is, my mother is a soft touch. After Craig died, I became her primary focus. It’s made us very close, more like friends than mother and daughter, and as a result, she is my biggest advocate in the fight against my father’s rules. She hasn’t been able to get him to lift the rule on my curfew, but she has gotten him to understand that his rule ends on my eighteenth birthday.

“Barry, she’s right. In a few days’ time, she’ll be an adult. You can’t keep her here forever,” she reminds him, and I know the moment she says something, he will relax a little. There is something special about my parent’s relationship. When my father looks at my mother, his tough exterior melts away, and he turns to mush. It’s amazing to watch.

“But she’s still so young at heart,” he argues with her. “And what if something happens? I just…”

“Dad, I’ll be fine. I’m not Craig. I’m not going to get so drunk I can’t look after myself. You’ve been training me since I could stand up. I know how to fight, no one’s going to do anything to me. Just please. This is the first time I’ve actually been able to say yes to something like this. Plus they’re my new flatmates. I’d like to go out and have some fun with them,” I insist.

He exchanges glances with my mum, and they do that silent conversation thing again. I don’t know what’s going on beyond a few head tilts and raised eyebrows.

“I’ll tell you what. You come and train at the studio this Thursday. Show me you can still take care of yourself - then I’ll have no issue with you going,” he concedes. I look at my mother again, who shrugs her shoulders in a manner that tells me to take what I’m given.

“Fine,” I exasperate, wishing he wasn’t so damn over protective. I’ll bet no other girl going to this party will have to literally fight her way out of the door…

***

On Thursday afternoon, I rock up to my dad’s martial arts gym to prove to him that I can take care of myself. I’m still so angry at him for making me do this. I know I could just say no and go out anyway. But I can’t escape my upbringing – it’s his house, his rules – which is half the reason why I’m leaving. I know that even though I’m legally about to become an adult, it’s not going to matter to him. He will still find a way to place restrictions upon me no matter how much I fight.

I want to live freely. I want to make the rules. So, I’ll have to find my own way in this world. With or without my father’s blessing.

But today, I’m still living under his roof. I’m still seventeen – so he gets his way.

I bump my hands against the glass entry door to push it open and make my way past the gym in front to the dojo out back. I haven’t been to my dad’s gym for years. Not since I was a kid really. But it all looks exactly the way it always has. Blue mats cover the floor of the training area in the dojo. Around the walls are sparring weapons and pads. There’s a long row of staffs and wooden swords hung horizontally in a custom made rack on the wall in the far corner. There’s also a bit of Aikido inspired paraphernalia – posters, photos of dojo members participating in tournaments, as well as a really cool display of my dad in his prime. I always loved looking at these as a kid, especially the one where he’s jumping through the air and his ponytail is flying behind him. It looks like something out of a movie.

My dad d
oesn’t have a ponytail any more. Now his brown hair has turned grey and thinned out around his temples. He keeps it cut close to his scalp and seems to feel that he can balance the hair loss on top of his head by adding a bushy beard. For some reason, his beard has turned an auburn colour, so for once in our lives the whole family matches.

I have long and incredibly thick auburn hair which I get from my mother’s side of the family – she has the exact same hair, so she’s always been great at showing me how to tame it. We also all have blue eyes, although where my mum’s are a clear blue, my fathers and mine are more segmented and flecked with bits of green and hazel.

Pulling the elastic band from my wrist, I lift my hair high up on my head and fasten it away from my face as I walk toward my father. He’s standing in the centre of the room, talking to a few of his students. He’s well into his forties now, but he is still a formidable form, his broad strong frame and over six feet of height has him dwarfing most of the students. All except one.

“Shit,” I hiss under my breath as I approach. It’s
Damien. Immediately, my face begins to burn with the memory of the day before. I’m not sure if it’s embarrassment, nerves or just plain anger. But I do know that seeing him, makes me a little scared. I’m not sure I can think to react properly with him here. 

I ball my fists at my side and give myself an internal pep talk as I approach – you can do this. He just caught you off guard yesterday.

“Ah, you’re here!” my father calls in my direction as I move toward the group. I do my best to keep my gaze trained on my father’s face and smile.

“Wouldn’t miss it,” I say as I come to a stop beside him.

“Ok, this is my more advanced group. I’ve told them a lot about you before, so they’re pretty keen to see what my daughter can do,” he beams amusedly. He knows full well that I haven’t trained properly for over five years. Besides the times he’s convinced me to train with him in our backyard – I’ve been avoiding Aikido like the plague. Once upon a time, I was a good fighter and he was proud of that, but after Craig died, I didn’t want to train anymore. It was too sad training without him, so I’ve stayed away.

T
he students all greet me kindly. I simply nod in their direction, unwilling to make eye contact with Damien. But I can feel his eyes on me. It takes all of my will power to keep my eyes trained on my father – all of it.

“I’ve selected
Damien to spar with you. He’s the most advanced of the group, so if you can keep up with him then we have a deal,” he smiles, his eyes twinkling with excitement. I can tell he’s loving that he got me here, and knowing him, he’s chosen someone he doesn’t think I can beat. Well, I’ll show him…I hope.

I risk a glance at
Damien, whose mouth is turned up on one side as his light eyes bore into mine. My heart starts thudding loudly in my ears and suddenly I’m feeling a little warm. Why does it have to be him?

“Nage Waza” my father announces.

“Throwing?” I question, my brows raised as I glare at my father. He’s doing this on purpose. I shouldn’t have come.

Mumbling under my breath, I curse myself for being so damn agreeable. If I had have been your typical teenage girl, I would have just threatened to move out earlier instead of agreeing to a fucking training session to prove my worth.

I follow as everyone pairs off around the mats, and stand across from Damien waiting for the call to start. 

“You knew who my father was yesterday didn’t you?”

He shrugs and smiles in response, shaking his limbs out and rolling his neck, preparing himself to train.

“Whatever,” I sigh, doing exactly the same thing he is.
Damien has the club gi on, but I’m simply in a pair of black leggings and a fitted aqua gym shirt. It’s highly inappropriate clothing for Aikido, but I don’t own a gi. I told my parents that I lost it years ago, although honestly, I burnt it. I didn’t want to wear it ever again.

“Give me a push,”
Damien tells me, as we move around each other. We didn’t establish who would attack and who would defend – we’re just sizing each other up, daring the other one to start first.

“Fine,” I say, readying myself for a swift reminder of the way these katas work.

Lunging forward, I push at his chest, knowing that with his level of training, there was no way I was actually going to connect. Although he surprises me, stands there and takes it.

“You can do better than that,” he says with a grin.

“Why? So you can flip me over and be the guy who beat up on a girl? I don’t think so,” I retort.

“Push me,” he insists.

Glancing sideways, I see my father watching, so I push again, still not with my full force. Once again he doesn’t budge. “Push me,” he demands, with a growl.

Something about the way he is speaking to me really pisses me off, so I push again, really putting my weight behind the shove, fully expecting that he’s going to throw me on the mat. Still he doesn’t budge, he doesn’t apply any moves – he just stands there, looking at me like I’m wasting his time.

“Maybe you should go back to a beginner’s class. It’s been a long time since you’ve trained.”

He says it with such disdain that it infuriates me, I forget myself. I forget where I am, and who I’m dealing with, and I just charge him. Big mistake.

Twisting his body, he sidesteps me, causing me to rush past him. Which is embarrassing enough, if not for the fact that he then grabs my wrist and spins me back toward him. He’s so fast that I don’t even know how to respond. His other arm slips under my armpit and before I know it, my feet are off the floor and I’m dangling over his shoulder.

“There’s the fire,” he comments, as he sets me down. “Now. Your turn.”

“You want me to lift you up on my back?” I query, dubious of my ability to lift such a large man.

“Henrietta, you
seem to be forgetting one of the primary principles of Aikido – you won’t be using your strength – you’ll be using my momentum. We’ll go through it slowly and then we’ll do it fast. Ok?” he says, his voice soft and gentle all of a sudden. I find myself nodding, trusting that I can do this.

Slowly, he talks me through the steps of the kata. We
repeat it, step by step, three times. We’re not really exerting ourselves, but I find myself breathing a little heavier as my body buzzes around him. There’s something about this man – he’s…intoxicating.

As we perform the last move, he doesn’t break away. Instead, he leans close to my ear and whispers, “Are you ready for me?”

My heart thuds like the beat of a bass drum in a marching band. Swallowing hard, I try to slow my breathing before answering. “Yes,” I whisper. “I can do it.”

“Good,” he nods, a pleased grin pulling at the corner of his mouth.

As he comes toward me with a fast push, I react correctly, with the moves he’s just shown me. This is all stuff I’ve learned in pieces before, but with my lack of practice, I’m very rusty and have to think to react. Whereas for Damien, he’s so well trained that he’s instantly reactive.

The first time, I’m a little slow, and I don’t hoist him onto my back. But when we do it again, I perform the move seamlessly. When his feet lift off the floor, I can’t help but laugh out with pride. I did it.

“Excellent. Now for the rest of it.”

“There’s a flip isn’t there?” I laugh.

“Yes, there’s a flip,” he grins.

“Alright. Let’s get this bad boy done,” I say, giving it my all straight away this time.

As I rush him with my push, he spins, pulls and hoists me onto his back, tilting his body so that I roll straight off and onto the mat.

“You ok?” he asks, holding his hand out to help me up when I spend a moment longer on the floor than I really should.

Taking his hand, I nod. “Just a little winded. I’m not used to this anymore.”

“You need to go through it, or do you think you can flip me?”

“I think I can flip you,” I say, feeling confidant after managing to lift him.

“Good girl.”

Rushing me, I perform the move in return, hoisting him off the ground and rolling him off my back. A great sense of pride floods my body as I successfully perform the move. But he’s quick, he grips my wrist and pulls me with him, causing me to suck the air back in surprise as I go flying to the floor along with him, slamming hard into the mat by his side.

Fighting for breath, I lay there – defeated and embarrassed. Cursing my own hubris as I try to get my lungs working again.
Damien stands easily, holding his hand out to me again to help me up, a self-satisfied grin upon his face as those light eyes of his watch me gasping amusedly.

“Leave me alone,” I
pant, slapping his hand away.

“Are you upset that I caught you off guard again?” he asks grinning.