Page 21 of Liar & Champion
He shrugged and picked up the remote. “Maybe if we watched some romantic comedies, that would help me do character analysis on my ideal.”
He turned on the tv, and with the buzz of the show, it was impossible not to fall asleep, even though I’d already slept a lot that day. I woke up hungry, with my head on his shoulder, and his head on mine, like he’d fallen asleep too.
“I’ve got to go,” he said, brushing my hair with his lips, like it was the most natural thing in the world before he stood up and stretched. “I’ve got a self-defense meeting to get to. You should come when you’re feeling better.”
I smiled up at him. “I am feeling better. I want to go.”
He studied me. “Are you serious?”
“Sure. I won’t be wrestling on a mat with anyone, but I can sit and watch. I really want to learn to take care of myself so the next time I…” I trailed off and shivered.
He crouched down in front of me, sincerity shining in his blue eyes. “If that’s what you want, I’ll give you a ride.”
I beamed at him. “And I’m hungry, so we’ll have to stop and get something on the way. If I call Betty, she’ll have a nice dinner for us to pick up. Do you like fried ravioli? Of course you do. Everyone loves fried ravioli.” I opened the package and took out the phone. I’d been avoiding the package, but I needed to get over it, and I didn’t want to be alone when I opened it.
A sheet of love poetry in French fell out. How inconvenient that my French wasn’t terrible. I rifled through the contents,lace teddy, expensive candles and chocolates, and there, at the bottom, my phone. I turned it on and called Betty, ignoring the rest of it.
“Do you want me to get rid of this while you order?” Nix asked in a low voice, almost like I could pretend not to hear him if I wanted.
I nodded without looking at him, and then he was gone, taking the package with him, and leaving me to order for both of us.
My heart was pounding too fast and I wanted to burst into tears again. Everything I’d touched left a residue on my fingers that brought back the other night, being restrained, being forced, being hurt. I blinked tears off my lashes as I finished ordering and Nix came in.
“I should have opened it at my house and brought you your stuff without the rest. He probably thinks he’s being romantic.”
“I told you, he’s psychotic,” I said, without trying to smile. “I think I’m going to start crying again. You should probably go to the thing without me.” I rubbed my chest, trying to get some of the tightness out.
He scooped me up and started walking. “Not a chance am I missing out on Betty’s fried ravioli. I’ll get a pillow and a blanket, so you can be comfortable, but I’m not leaving you alone when you feel sad. That wouldn’t be neighborly.”
I put my head on his shoulder and didn’t argue. I really didn’t want to be alone right then. “Now I have the ‘Won’t You Be My Neighbor’ song in my head.”
“Does that mean I should dance on the porch with you? How would that dance go?” He stepped onto the porch and then spun around, holding me carefully so I wasn’t jostled, then did a few ridiculous dance moves that made me laugh.
“Wow. Is that what I looked like to you? Wow.”
“Right? I’ve got moves you’ve never seen before.”
“And never will see again. You’re one in a million.” I smiled at him, so close to his heart, and felt content, safe, like life stretched out into the horizon further than the eye could see.
He winked at me and then the moment was over, I was tucked into the passenger seat of his truck, and he was heading back to the house. He came back with a throw from the couch, a pillow from the closet, and my crutches.
The truck roared to life and we were on our way.
After eating Betty’s excellent fried raviolis with a gorgeous salad, we headed inside the old gym, me on my crutches, Nix letting me be as slow as I needed to be.
I’d expected it to be me, Nix, and Henry, but somehow word had spread, and the old music hall that had been used as a secondary gym for the last twenty years had at least a dozen people, including a good number of the upright citizens that Nix’s mother would no doubt approve of, including Christina.
Nix got me a chair next to Henry and then he started a spiel that was incredibly well-rehearsed. He didn’t waste time setting things up, just went right into the basics of self-defense, like awareness of your surroundings, the importance of preparedness, and how to cope with a direct assault you can’t get out of.
“You will be hurt less if you go soft, don’t resist, try to zone out,” he said, seriously. “It could be the difference between survival and death.”
“We’re supposed to just accept abuse?” I asked, feeling betrayed.
He met my eyes and his slight frown was echoed in the concerned depths of those blue eyes. “During an attack, the priority is survival. Afterwards, you rally and prosecute to the fullest extent of the law, but I want you to survive, to escape, to be able to put the past behind you and move on with as little damage as possible.”
“Just move on?” I couldn’t even walk, how was I supposed to move on?
Christina gave me a glare. “If you can’t understand what he’s saying, maybe you shouldn’t be here. If you’re determined to cling to your victim mentality, then no one can help you.”
