Clarity 2

by Lost, Loretta

  “Liam!” says an older man’s voice with a hearty laugh. “Shame on you for getting me out of bed this early for an ‘emergency session.’ Where’s the fire, son?”

  “I’m sorry, Sensei,” Liam says respectfully. “I would like you to meet Winter, the girl I told you about on the phone.”

  “Ah, a lovely fire indeed,” says the older man. “I’m James. Nice to meet you, Winter.”

  “Hello,” I say shyly.

  “James has been my judo teacher since I was a kid,” Liam explains to me. “He’s the best. He’s also partially blind.”

  “Judo?” I whisper in surprise. “You want me to learn how to fight?”

  “Yes,” Liam says, “but it’s so much more than that. I considered taking you to therapy, but you’ve already studied psychology—they can’t tell you anything you don’t already know. I believe you need something stronger than counseling.”

  “Can a blind person really learn how to fight?” I ask in wonder.

  James laughs. “Of course! You can ask my blind students who medaled at the Paralympics. The Judo competition is reserved specifically for the visually impaired.”

  I did not know this. I feel like a door has been opened, and a huge tidal wave of information has gushed through and smacked me in the face. I also do feel excited. Scared, but excited. I am already grateful to Liam for teaching me that there was a possible power that I could have that I had never considered exploring.

  “I was hoping you could give her a personalized crash course in basic self-defense,” Liam tells his instructor. “I think she’s a fast learner and will pick it up quickly.”

  “Sure,” James says, “but I think we need to start with the philosophy of the art. You see, Winter, many sighted folks consider us blind people easy targets. Muggings, violence, abuse—you name it. We can often seem disadvantaged and defenseless, and that encourages attacks against us. The solution? Well, we need both to stop seeming defenseless, and to stop being defenseless.”

  “How do we do that?” I ask him curiously.

  “You need to learn how to carry yourself,” James tells me, and I hear his voice moving closer. “Sighted people can use body language to convey a sense of confidence and strength. This automatically wards off many attackers. However, body language is learned through visually observing the postures of others. I will be teaching you how to be strong and aggressive in your stance.”

  I nod, for this makes a lot of sense. “I would like to learn.”

  “If you’re going to study under me, the number one rule is that you should not be afraid of touch.” The teacher’s voice is calm and pleasant, and I am eager to absorb his every word. “If someone tries to grab you or hit you, then they are stepping onto your battlefield. Your body is your turf—and the moment someone steps onto your turf, you are no longer blind. If they touch you, you touch them back. You grab whatever you can. If you can feel your attacker, you can see your attacker.”

  “Okay,” I say softly.

  “Do you see this?” James reaches out to touch my shoulder. “Now you know exactly where I am. Now you have valuable information about me—all the information you need to take me down.”

  I nod in understanding.

  “And now—observe this,” James says removing his hand from my shoulder. He steps around me, slowly circling my body. “Now that I am no longer touching you, I have become invisible to you. I could be anywhere around you. You have some clues, but not all the clues you need. You don’t want to run away. You don’t want more space between us. You want to move into me so that you can see my body and neutralize it so that it is no longer a threat. It might seem counterintuitive at first, but you’ll soon understand once we begin training.”

  My mind is blown. It makes so much sense. When Grayson attacked me, I ran away. I am always getting nervous and flinching away from contact with people. I never realized that doing so gave them the power.

  “Remember this concept,” James says again. “If they’re not touching you, they’re invisible. So take advantage of touch, and make it your friend—not your enemy.”

  I take a deep breath and nod thankfully. “I will,” I say with determination. It also occurs to me that I have psychological issues with running away. Going to New Hampshire might have saved my skin for the time being, but it did not erase my problems completely. Instead, it exposed my home to infiltration from my attacker. If I had stayed, and pushed forward instead of caving in, I could have changed everything.

  I want to change everything.

  “It’s good to keep your enemies close,” Liam tells me, “so don’t worry. We’ll teach you what you need to do.”

  “And I have the perfect way to start!” James says happily. “Winter, how would you like to kick Liam’s ass a lot?”

  A laugh bubbles out of my throat. “Really? I think I’d love that.”

  “Darn,” Liam says in dismay.

  The teacher gets to work on showing me what to do if someone has placed a hand around my neck. He shows me where to place my thumb and how to twist my opponents arm until he is disabled. He shows me how to follow through until my opponent is on the ground. He has me try it gently a few times in slow-motion before turning to Liam.

  “Alright, son,” James says cheerfully. “I want you to grab Winter by the throat.”

  Liam hesitates. “Do you feel comfortable with that?” he asks me.

  “Just shut up and do it already,” I say with a smile. “I want to try this.”

  “Okay, here goes,” he says, before reaching for my neck.

  For a moment, I do feel a bit of fear. I do remember Grayson’s hand on my neck. For only a fraction of a second, as his hand comes into contact with my skin, I am paralyzed in terror. Then, as his hand clamps around my neck, I remember that he is now ‘visible’ to me. Comforted by the fact that this is a safe environment, and I have simple instructions, I grab his hand and twist it until Liam is on the ground, and my body is positioned over his, pinning him down.

  Liam laughs. “Ouch! I knew you’d be a fast learner. That was almost perfect, and it was only your first try.”

  I blush in embarrassment when I realize how close my body is to his, and I begin to pull away.

  “No,” James says, placing a hand on my back. “Touch is your weapon, remember? You want to move your knees closer to his body. If you pull away, he’ll get free and attack you again. Remember, you are not only blind, but you are a woman. Which means you will be much smaller than most of your opponents. Although you may not weigh much, if you position your body correctly, you can overpower someone who weighs twice as much as you do. Really press your body down on his and lock him down. Knees and arms closer! Closer!”

  “Okay,” I say nervously, pushing aside my modesty and focusing on the technique. “Like this?”

  “Yes! Yes! That’s it,” James says. “Now, Liam, try to break free.”

  Liam struggles against me, and I hold my position fast. A few times, he nearly breaks my hold and I am worried that I’m doing it wrong. After a few seconds of struggling, he gives up.

  “I’m down,” Liam says in approval. “She’s got me.”

  “Great,” says James. “Now let’s move on to the next technique.”

  The rest of the lesson passes by in a whirlwind of energy and struggling to achieve perfection. I feel so honored by the way that James and Liam treat me; like I am truly capable of doing this. It really does strengthen my confidence in myself, and makes me want to try to do more and more. My muscles quickly begin to ache, having not been used very much in years. However, I welcome the feeling and push onward, feeling exhilarated from the exercise and motion.

  I feel like Liam has dumped me into a swift-moving river and demanded that I swim. I love it. I love the challenge, and I love being immersed in fast-paced new information. It’s intimidating, and it could certainly drown me, but I won’t be tugged under by the current. I’m going to swim.

  “You were really good,” Liam says
as he drives me home. “Are you sure you’ve never done any martial arts before?”

  “No,” I say with a laugh, “I haven’t. Unless you count years of wrestling with my sister—almost every day, for every tiny thing. Even when I first came home, we got physical a few times.”

  “That must be it. The source of your great talent,” Liam says solemnly.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” I tell him, but I am really happy about my performance.

  Snapping his fingers, Liam makes an excited exclamation. “Oh! I have an idea. Let’s delay your surgery so you can be blind enough to compete in the Paralympics. What do you say? You just have to train really hard, then we can head to Rio de Janeiro for 2016. I was just going to watch it from TV, but being there would be so much better. And James can add your picture to his impressive wall of successful students.”

  “Are you joking?” I ask him incredulously.

  “Nope.”

  “Liam!” I burst into laughter.

  “What?” he asks in a wounded tone. “What’s so funny?”

  “I just had my first lesson today. Cool your balls, buddy.”

  “My balls are... at the perfectly appropriate temperature,” he assures me. “I’m just thinking of the possibilities!”

  I growl at him softly. “Are you my pimp now, or am I a dancing circus animal?”

  “Can’t it be both?” he asks whimsically.

  “I know you’re just trying to make me feel better,” I tell him, “and it’s working. Just remember that I’m learning to fight to stay alive and protect my sister, not for the glamor of showing off my smooth moves on TV.”

  “Can’t you do both?” he asks glumly.

  I can’t help smiling at his attitude. Liam is possibly one of the most positive people I’ve ever met. His enthusiasm is apparent in everything he does—it is obvious that he’s very passionate about both judo, and his job. Being around him makes me feel like anything is possible. “Even though you’re insane,” I tell him, “and you push me around way too much—I still think you’re sweet.”

  “I solemnly vow that whenever I manipulate you, I will always have your best interests at heart,” Liam says with complete seriousness.

  “Wow,” I say in mock admiration. “That was really romantic. I need to save those words.” I pull out my phone and press my thumb down on the solitary circular button, and request that it make a recording. Then I repeat his words into the machine: “I solemnly vow that whenever I manipulate you, I will always have your best interests at heart.”

  He laughs at this. “Why are you recording that? Are you going to use it in one of your books?”

  “Maybe,” I say teasingly, “but also, if this dating thing works out? You can use it in your wedding vows.”

  “No way,” Liam says. “My wedding vows would be so much more interesting than that.”

  “Like what?” I ask with a challenge in my voice.

  “Hmm,” he says thoughtfully. “Like... ‘I vow to love you so much that I will always let you choose what we watch together on TV. If I don’t like what you’re watching, I’m just going to go watch my own thing in a different room anyway.’”

  “Really, really romantic,” I say in amusement.

  “Also,” he adds, picking up momentum, “this one’s really good: ‘I vow always to leave the last potato chip for you. But it’s the only one you’re getting, because I call dibs on the rest of the bag.’”

  He finally manages to get a real laugh out of me. I have to catch myself to try and stop from laughing too loudly. I have been holding this in for some time and trying to appear cool and sardonic, but now he’s definitely won. I can’t help relaxing a little. “I envy the lucky lady who gets to tie the knot with you,” I tell him with a grin.

  “I can be a regular Casanova,” he assures me. “I picked up a lot from watching Owen over the years. For example, the date we just had? The truth is that I just chose this because it involved a lot of physical contact. I’m pretty sure we got to third base there. I got to cop a lot of feels.”

  I twist my face up in what I imagine must be a skeptical look.

  “Winter, what are you giving me that look for?”

  “I highly doubt that this was on Owen’s list of ultimate first dates.”

  “Maybe it was,” Liam says.

  “No,” I tell him. “It was special and meaningful, and you chose it specifically for me. I won’t let you cheapen it with jokes. It was amazing.”

  Liam’s voice lowers a little. “Did you really like it?”

  “Yes,” I respond sincerely. “It was a lot of fun. It was also just what I needed. You didn’t just help me. You helped me help myself, which is far more valuable. I can’t thank you enough.”

  “You’re very welcome,” he responds, “but you’re not a master yet. We’ll have to keep training, and keep going back, dozens of times.”

  The idea of more training gives me a thrill. I am somehow bursting with energy—even though I have spent much more energy today than I would on an average day, I seem to have more because of this. It’s ironic and puzzling, but I love the sensation.

  “When can we do this again?” I ask him shyly.

  “Soon,” he responds instantly. “Let’s make a promise that we’ll train with James at least three times a week, for a minimum of two hours. Even if things don’t work out with us—we’ll just quit going there on dates and go as friends. It’s important to do this. It will change your life.”

  “You already have changed my life,” I tell him softly. I think about where I was earlier today, sitting with my back to a dresser and feeling terrified of a door opening. I think about where I have been for several days, confined to my room and unable to get out of bed. Unable to do any work. Unable to think of anything other than my overwhelming fear. I know that I probably don’t know enough about judo yet to actually stand a chance in a fight, but I feel like I have broken through some barrier today. I am not afraid anymore. Tears spring to my eyes, but they are tears of happiness. “Liam,” I say, and my voice is all choked up. However, having learned that touch can be my friend, I decide not to speak and simply reach out and place my hand on his leg. I place a gentle pressure on his thigh to try and convey my gratitude.

  He removes one of his hands from the steering wheel, and places it over my own. He interlaces his fingers with mine, in a gesture which clearly conveys him accepting my sentiments.

  The touch is so powerful that there really is no need for speech.

  A few more minutes and miles pass, and our fingers remain woven together. It is so comforting and natural, and I wish that the moment would last forever. I feel like my skin just melts together with his, and disappears into his body. It is like his hand belongs attached to mine—like it always had been there before, but was separated for this lifetime, and only just reunited.

  He feels like the missing part of me that I never even realized I was missing. I never thought I could feel so secure and complete. I don’t know how I’m going to rip myself away from him. All I can seem to think about is how I need to be even closer to him than this. I want to be around him all the time—I want to spend as much time with him as possible. He makes me feel like life could be a good thing. He makes me laugh, even when I’m trying to be standoffish and snobby. He easily breaks down all my walls with his gentle persistence. He believes I can do anything, and makes me into a better version of myself. He helps me to see the things I cannot see. He makes me feel fulfilled.

  “We’re almost at your place,” he says quietly.

  There is a silence, and we both seem to feel the ache of the impending loss. However, as he continues to drive onward, my thoughts begin to focus less on how incredible Liam is, and more on the horrible hellhole that is looming in the distance. I have been enjoying myself so much that I had almost entirely forgotten about Grayson. I had forgotten how soon I would be thrust back into the same dwelling with him. I had forgotten that date had to end. I had forgotten how quickly we we
re approaching my house.

  “We’re here,” Liam says, as he removes his hand from mine and begins to turn the steering wheel.

  His words are like a slap in my face. I am seized with a great panic and I reach out to grab his wrist to halt the turning. “No. No, please.” I take a few quick breaths. “Liam, I’m not ready to go back in there. Can we just drive around for a little? Just a little more?”

  “Sure,” he says, without hesitation. He pulls back onto the road and begins driving again.

  “I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I just couldn’t—I need a minute to prepare.”

  “It’s okay,” Liam says. He hesitates before speaking. “I’m really not supposed to do this—it could present problems for my job. But if you really want, you could stay at my place. It’s very small, but I could take the couch...”

  “No, no,” I say softly. “I appreciate the offer, but I don’t want to impose. You’ve already done so much for me. I just need a few minutes to gather my strength.”

  “Would you like a distraction?” Liam asks.

  “What do you mean?” I ask him. I am surprised when he pulls the car over sharply into the shoulder.

  He parks the car and unlocks his seatbelt before leaning across the center console to place his face near mine. He slides his hand along my neck, just under my ear. His thumb rests lightly on my earlobe. “May I?” he breathes.

  I cannot find the words, so I force myself to nod.

  Liam presses his lips against mine with a soft and tender pressure. At first, the kiss is barely a whisper of a touch, as though I am fragile and made of glass that might shatter. Once my surprise eases away, and I am able to respond, he notices this and begins to deepen the kiss. His hand slips around the back of my head, and his lips become more intense and demanding.

  I find myself swept away in the sensation. His touch is so strong and forceful, yet filled with sweetness and compassion. He seems to have discovered that I am not fragile glass, but a real woman made of flesh and blood—and he treats me accordingly. I kiss back ardently, eager to lose myself in the loveliness of the connection.