She appeared to be enjoying herself.
When George placed the small, cold gun in my hand, its heavy weight surprised me.
I was even more surprised by how much louder it was when I fired my first shot with George standing behind me, his arms supporting mine.
I’d heard the noise when Mom and George were taking turns demonstrating for me. It was jolting then, but it was different this time.
Louder.
Scarier.
George promised with enough practice, it would get less scary.
With enough practice, it would be easier.
With enough practice, I’d never have to be afraid.
I don’t know what he thought I was afraid of.
After an hour in the basement, it was dinnertime. Mom led the way back up the stairs and into the kitchen. But George stopped me as he was locking the gun back in the cabinet. “You did well today, Anastasia. I want you to promise you’ll remember what I’m about to tell you. Are you paying attention?”
I nodded my head as he placed his big hands on my shoulders and waited for him to impart the final rule.
“When I was with the Rangers, we were taught to shoot center mass.” He motioned toward the center of his chest. “‘Aim little, miss little,’ they said.” George squatted down so he was at my eye level, then continued, “That’s not what I’m going to teach you.”
George drew a “T” with his finger across his forehead, right above his eyes and then straight down his nose. “This is the T-Zone, Anastasia.” He tapped the spot between his eyes. “If you ever have to shoot someone, you shoot them here. That’s the shot. That’s final.”
I don’t know who George thought I was going to be shooting. But when I looked up at him, thinking I should be scared of what he was saying, I wasn’t. “Can I come back and practice again, George?”
His eyes sparkled back at me. “You’re going to come back every day until I’ve taught you everything you need to know.”