The Art of Life

by Carter, Sarah

  A very dark frown passes over Jeremy’s face. “I am not finding humor in that.”

  “It’s not supposed to be humorous,” I whisper harshly. “I mean it. I will go if you go.”

  “Like to your appointment?”

  The look on my face has to be priceless. “No, that’s not what I mean, and you know it, but….this is NOT the time and place to have this conversation.”

  “No,” he retorts harshly. “It is not.” Jeremy looks back up at Miss Cunningham. “I will make sure she gets to see someone.”

  “Very well,” Miss Cunningham says. “Isabelle, do you have any idea when you want to come back?”

  Shrugging, I reply, “I have no idea. I think, maybe, Monday? I can’t wait until all the bruising is gone. I would fail out of high school, but I just need a few more days to myself.”

  “That sounds good. You are 18, so you can excuse yourself from school. I just need you to fill out this paperwork.” Miss Cunningham grabs a piece of paper out of her attaché. “This is just a legal form. Just like if your parents would excuse you.”

  “Okay.” I take it from her and scan it. “Do you have a pen?” I ask.

  She smiles and takes one out. “Here.”

  “Thanks,” I sigh. My head starts to hurt while I fill in the blanks. I rub my temple when I am done.

  “Are you okay?” Jeremy asks.

  I grimace. “I am getting a bad headache.”

  “I will get you something,” he says, standing up.

  When he walks to the bathroom, Miss Cunningham leans forward. “Are you sure you are okay here, Isabelle?”

  “Yes,” I answer, with a smile. “I am safer here than anywhere else. He won’t let anything bad happen to me.”

  “Very good,” she responds.

  Jeremy comes back in and hands me two aspirin. I take them and say, “Thanks.” He chuckles and rubs the top of my head. I playfully snap, “Hey!” We both laugh.

  Miss. Cunningham stands up. “Well, I should get going. It was very nice meeting you Jeremy and Isabelle, if you need anything, you call me, okay?”

  “Yeah,” I reply.

  “Thank you for coming,” Jeremy says, walking Miss Cunningham to the door.

  She turns and looks at him. “Take good care of her. If you can’t, please let us know.”

  “That won’t be an issue,” Jeremy states. “Thank you though.”

  Opening the door, Miss Cunningham sighs, “Just keep us in the loop.”

  “I will,” I declare loudly, probably too loudly.

  “Okay, bye then.”

  “Take care,” Jeremy says, as he shuts the door behind her. Turning he looks at me with a dead stare. “You did not tell me that the doctor told you to see a therapist.”

  With an exasperated eye roll, I groan, “I don’t want to see one, so there was nothing to tell you.”

  “You need to talk to someone Isabelle.”

  Mimicking him, I cross my arms. “I think you should, too.”

  “Oh, you think so,” he sneers, walking forward.

  I nervously giggle and back up. “Yup.” He jumps at me and I scream. We run down the hallway. I jump into my room and spin to shut the door, but he just pushes it open. I put my hands out and laugh. “What are you doing!?”

  “I am going to tickle you until you succumb to seeing a therapist.”

  “That is not fair!” I exclaim. “I can’t do anything to you to make you go!”

  A playfully evil laugh comes from him. “That is the best part.” Jeremy pushes me down on the bed and jumps up to sit on my stomach. Pinning me, he sighs. “Just say you will go. Then I won’t have to torture you.”

  Not being able not to, I snort, “No.” Jeremy instantly starts to tickle me and I yell, “Stop!”

  “Are you going to go?” He asks, not stopping.

  Trying with all of my might, I push at him. “No!”

  That just makes him tickle me harder. I scream in protest. “Just say you will go,” he growls with a smile.

  “Fine!” I finally gasp. “I will go!”

  “Good,” he gloats, sitting up.

  Looking at him, I say, “I will go if you go.”

  “Ugh!” Jeremy exclaims. “Isabelle, I do not need to see a therapist.”

  “Fine, I will go, but I am not happy about it.”

  Jeremy bends over and looks in my eyes. “Thank you.”

  “No problem,” I reply. Jeremy bends over and kisses me gently on the forehead. I close my eyes and enjoy the touch.

  Chapter 15

  That night I am once again awake. Will this ever stop? Now, I am in this inward struggle, do I go to him or stay here? I plop back down on my pillows and grimace. Putting my arm over my eyes, I try to go back to sleep, but that doesn’t happen. Finally, I slam my fist down on the bed. Throwing my blanket to the side, I get up.

  Walking down the hallway, I come to Jeremy’s door. It is wide open and he is in bed sleeping. I kind of stand there for a while, but then finally I take a deep breath and walk in. Preferably, I would not like to wake him. I pull up the blanket and slowly get into his bed. He doesn’t move. That’s good. I lie down and turn to look at him. Wanting to giggle, I realize how cute he is when he is sleeping. Jeremy seems so peaceful. That makes me smile. I roll over and close my eyes.

  Suddenly, Jeremy’s arm is around me and he pulls me against him. “You really don’t think that you can sneak up on me, do you?” He murmurs in my ear.

  “Sorry,” I whisper. “I promise this will be the last night.”

  He places his cheek on my head. “It’s fine Isabelle. I actually like it. Now, go to sleep, I have to work in the morning.”

  “Okay,” I sigh, enjoying his touch. It isn’t long before Jeremy is asleep again, and then I follow soon after that.

  The next morning, I awake to an empty bed. I burrow my face into the pillow. Okay, I am a dork, because it smells like him. Finally, with a sigh, I get out of bed. I walk down the hallway and into the living room. Suddenly, I hear, “Good morning sunshine!”

  I jump about ten feet in the air and spin towards the kitchen. Kent is standing there, pouring a cup of coffee. “You scared me!” I yell.

  “It’s not my fault that you can’t sense anything. Would you like some coffee?” He asks jovially.

  “Sure,” I yawn, walking over to him.

  Kent pours me a cup and asks, “Cream, sugar?”

  “Cream and a little bit of sugar,” I reply. “Nothing like how Jeremy drinks it.”

  Kent chuckles, “Yeah, it’s kind of nasty.”

  “So, you don’t work today?” I inquire, going to sit down at the table.

  “Nope,” Kent replies. “I am a manager of a restaurant. The weekends are busy usually. I rotate with the assistant managers. I work this weekend, so I have off today, which means I can happily hang out with you.”

  With a nod, I take a drink of my coffee and then say, “Jeremy said you wanted to teach me some defensive moves, or whatever.”

  “Yup, some basic skills, so that you have fighting chance next time. It is easy for a guy to overpower a girl, but there are things you can do to stop him.”

  “Like kick him in the nards,” I reply.

  Kent laughs, “Yes, that definitely hurts.”

  Sighing, I say, “I should have done that. It just happened so quickly. I didn’t have time to think before he was choking me. Then I had no idea what to do.”

  “Eye gouging works,” Kent replies. “Blind them and it gives you an out.”

  “That is seriously gross,” I gasp. “Ugh.”

  He laughs, “Yup, that’s why I said it, to gross you out, but it still works.”

  “I don’t think I am hungry anymore,” I moan.

  With a snort, Kent says, “Get a stronger stomach than that. You are such a girl. Cassandra is the same way.”

  “We are girls!” I exclaim, giggling.

  “Yeah, yeah, yeah, I know,” he retorts, rolling his eyes. “I am going to
make you breakfast and then we are going to get started.”

  So, Kent makes me pancakes and they are the best pancakes ever! “These are so awesome!” I moan between bites. “Oh my gosh!”

  “I do work in a restaurant,” he replies. “A really nice restaurant, so you learn a thing or two.”

  “I need to live with you. Jeremy can’t cook.”

  That makes Kent laugh. “No, no, he can’t. Whoever he ends up with better know how to cook. Otherwise, they are going to have a troubled relationship.”

  “I will try to teach him how to make simple things,” I state. “Okay, I am done. I will do the dishes.”

  “Sounds good,” Kent says. “I cook. I hate doing dishes.” I just laugh at him and get up to clean. We talk and get to know each other better.

  He is actually really funny. “You guys crack me up,” I snicker.

  “You need to go out in public when we are all together. We are RIDICULOUS! Cassandra just groans a lot. She is actually looking forward to having you along. We want to go to Luke’s sometime soon.”

  “The nightclub!?” I gasp.

  With a dumb look, Kent draws out, “Yyyyessss. We go there regularly.”

  “I am not 21! I am 18! I have never been to a nightclub!”

  “Yes, but every other Saturday they have what we call, minor night. The lower floor is for people under 21 and the upper gallery, where the bar is, is for adults.”

  I open my mouth and punch him the arm. “I am an adult.”

  Snorting, Kent says, “Uh huh, once you graduate, I will consider you an adult. ANYWAY, Josh’s older brother is Luke of Luke’s, so we can sneak you up top.”

  “I am not going to let him get fined over something so stupid,” I snap.

  “We aren’t going to let you drink. We can just say you wandered up. It will be fine. There are back ways to get you out, or do you really want us to hang out on the lower level with people your age?”

  Shaking my head, I say, “No, that would be dumb. Fine, I will go.”

  “Sweet!” Kent exclaims happily. “Cassandra will be super excited. I am actually going to text her now.”

  Putting my hand up, I say, “Not until my throat heals!”

  “Of course not,” Kent groans. “I would never expect that.”

  “Okay,” I sigh thankfully. “So, shall we get started on kicking some butt?”

  A sudden wicked smile passes over Kent’s face, “Oh definitely. Come on, stand up.” I follow him. He moves the coffee table, so that we have an open area. “Now, I am not going to teach you how to break arms, or kick someone in the face.”

  “What!? Why? There is no fun in that!”

  “Isabelle, would you really be able to do that, if you were to be attacked again? Remember how frightened you were? You were pushed into flight or fight response. Even the biggest guys have the same reaction. We need to have you learn how to be the one winning the fight. That doesn’t necessarily mean you are going to decapitate your opponent.”

  Raising an eyebrow, I retort, “Yeah, that would have been cool at the time though.”

  “Cool, but messy,” Kent laughs. “Let’s get started. I’ll explain things to you first. In combat, even in hand to hand, winning is all about gaining ground and pushing the opponent into a retreat. The person advancing is the person winning the fight.

  For women facing men in a fist fight, the man is almost always at a height and weight advantage over the woman. The man’s center mass is going to be too hard to push against or strike into so the best areas are below the naval or above the collarbone. Are you with me so far?”

  I nod my head. “Yes.”

  “Alright, when the man moves in to attack, regardless of the motive or the technique, his goal is to advance forward to gain control. The first move must never be an attack driven into an attack.”

  “What do you mean by that?” I ask.

  Kent replies, “You don’t want to attack with him advancing into you. You want to make him stop and then attack.”

  “Oh okay.”

  He continues, “The first move must be one that stops the attacker’s momentum. The simplest way is to do a very simple and a very natural body movement that doesn’t require thinking, timing or technique. Simply put, you just need to swing your arm out with your fingers apart and put them into the man’s face. This move can be done at any striking distance and it does NOT need to have any power behind it.

  Putting your hand into the guy’s face as he advances basically makes him walk right into your fingertips which then in turn hit all the soft spots on the face such as the eyes and nose. This stops him from advancing because it’s unexpected and it takes his brain a bit to analyze what just happened. This move is sometimes called a finger dart or finger strike, even though it’s done without any specific form, technique or target. It’s just putting your hand into the person’s face.

  So, now you are going to try. Not at full speed obviously, but I am going to come at you and I want you to do what I told you. Alright?”

  I nod. Kent starts to walk at me. I bring my hand forward towards his face. It lands exactly where he said it was supposed to. “I did it!” I exclaim.

  “Yes, you did. We will continue to practice all this because I want it to become your first instinctual move. I want it to come to you, without you really thinking about it. So, let’s do this again.” Which we do. Finally, he says, “Alright, the second step is the instep kick. It’s done as a follow up after the opponent’s momentum is stopped.

  This is just another simple and basic and natural human motion that doesn’t involve thinking, timing or technique. You simply swing your leg into the opponent’s shin as you move forward into them and scrape the instep of your shoe down their shin, while moving into them.”

  “Ouch,” I say.

  “Yup,” Kent replies. “So, let’s try that one now. Bring your foot up and scrape down my shin. You don’t have shoes on, so it’s fine.”

  I walk forward, and bring my foot up and down. “Like that?”

  “Yes, very good. Try it again.” I do, and he smiles at me. “Now, the third movement is called a tiger claw or tiger palm. After pushing into the opponent with the instep kick, you use your own forward momentum to shove your hand into the attacker’s face again and push their head back past their heels. This causes them to move backwards, which makes it nearly impossible for them to counter strike because their body is now struggling to regain balance. This move again is done without any flashy technique or thinking or even planning. It’s just an open hand push into the opponent’s face that makes them lose balance.”

  “Let me guess,” I laugh. “I am going to try that one, too.”

  Kent wiggles his eyebrows, “Yup. Do all three together.” He comes at me and I push at his face, scrape his shin and push his head back. Kent falters a bit, but stands his ground. “See, if you had been going full force you would have had me fumbling my way backwards.”

  “Sweet!” I yell.

  “The fourth move is edge of hand or knife hand strike. It’s just swinging your arm and hitting anywhere on the person from their collarbone and up. It doesn’t need to be a solid and stiff hand move like you see in movies and it doesn’t even have to be the hand that hits the opponent. It can be any part of the arm, from the pinky finger all the way to the elbow.

  It doesn’t really matter where it lands either because it will always hit somewhere that causes pain to the opponent. It’s like a karate chop, but without the complex technique. It’s just swinging your arm against their face, neck, ear or whatever. This can be done from any position and does not need any real power to it, since the opponent is already moving backwards by the time it lands. So, guess what now?” He jests. I roll my eyes. “Okay, try it on me.” I swing my hand around and hit him the side of his face. Kent grabs the side of his head. “Isabelle! I didn’t mean full force. Geez!”

  “Oops, sorry,” I apologize, even though I am smirking.

  He looks at m
e and laughs, “If you were Josh or Jeremy I would take you down in a heartbeat.”

  “Don’t you dare!” I yell, with a smile.

  “I would never,” he says, rolling his eyes. “Okay, the final and fifth move, and the one that is usually fatal, is the chin jab. It was actually banned by Shanghai Police around the time of WWII. Basically, it is an open hand strike under the opponents jaw while the fingers dig in and push the head up, back and then down to the ground. Kind of like a palm strike, but with a relaxed hand with the fingers open, that hits under the chin and follows the head to the ground. Don’t do this unless ABSOLUTELY necessary. Don’t try it on people to see if it works. I will kick your butt if you do, if you aren’t in jail for seriously hurting someone. I just want you to know it if it’s your life again. I never want to hear that someone nearly choked you to death.”

  Scoffing, I say, “I don’t want to have that happen either.”

  “Well, yes, that’s probably true. Now, give me your hand so I can show you. I am obviously not going to have you try it. I don’t want to smash my head on the ground.” Kent brings my hand up and places it under his chin. “Got it?”

  Nodding my head, I reply, “Yup.”

  “Okay, any of the moves that I mentioned can be done as the initial move to stop the attacker’s forward momentum and they can be executed in any order or combination, with the exception of the chin jab, because it’s pretty much the end of the fight once the move is applied.

  These techniques are some of the only ones that don’t involve complex motor movements and use large muscle groups instead of small ones. They are also some of the only moves that can be done as reflex actions during fight or flight mode. So, how much of that do I need to go over again?”

  I put my hands on my hips. “I think I have most of it down. Let’s practice it.”

  “Bring it on sister,” Kent dares with a grin.

  We go at it for about an hour. He comes at me in different ways, so that I get the movements down. Finally, we stop and I ask, “What do I do if someone is on top of me again?”

  “Lay down and I will show you,” Kent instructs.

  My chest tightens and I just stare at him. “I don’t know…..”