by Kater Cheek
Put my hands in the pockets of my jean jacket. Act casual. The presumed burning stare of someone behind trailed me. Up a block, back another one, hide in a corner. Don’t turn around, it’s too obvious.
I stared into the dew-covered windows of cars as I passed, hoping to see a reflection. The Saturday evening crowd had never looked so menacing. Was that man carrying something under his beige coat? He didn’t look at me as he passed, but how could I know?
Screw this. I was a stay-and-fight kind of girl, not the run-and-hide type. I took out my cigarettes in front of a shoe store with a lit window display, lighting one with deliberate insouciance. Damn cigarettes. They weren’t even good. Why did I have to get the low tar ones? These things tasted nasty. Maybe I should get cloves instead.
Relax and smoke a cigarette. No one was following me. Paranoia. My imagination was playing tricks on me.
When someone tapped me on the shoulder, karate took over. I whirled, pinning his arm with my right elbow, and stepped forward with my full body weight poised to crush his nose with a left punch. All he had time to do was wince as he saw the fist about to break his face.
I stopped. “Jesus, James! You scared the shit out of me!”
James released his cringe. “I saw you about a block ago, I wanted to catch up with you before you got to the Pygg and Wassail. Why didn’t you drive?”
“My van wouldn’t start.” It didn’t feel right to lie to him, but James didn’t need to know about the person waiting near my van. He would worry too much.
He glared at the cigarette as we walked down the street. “Why are you smoking? I thought you quit.”
“I just started again.” I kicked the fallen leaves on the sidewalk and took deep drags on my disgusting low tar cigarette. “I got a lot on my mind.”
“Do you want to talk about it?”
James used to always do this. “Do you want to talk about Dad?” he’s say, and then he’d be silent until I started talking out my resentment, my anger. He’d ask, “Do you want to talk about Mom’s drinking?” and though I didn’t, he wouldn’t relent until we talked it out. Talking is healing, he said, and maybe he was right. I’d been a big bundle of pissed off when I first moved here. James had been a very patient therapist.
“Kit? Do you want to talk about it?”
“When we get there. I need a drink and some food.” The nice thing about smoking is that it gives you something to be involved in when you want to avoid having a painful, inevitable discussion. We dragged out the silence until arriving at the Pygg and Wassail, where music and laughter poured from the open door into the darkening twilight.
The Pygg and Wassail resembled just about every Irish pub in every town, excepting perhaps those actually in Ireland. Heavy wooden chairs and tables scuffed hardwood floors dulled by decades of use. One end of the pub had a small raised stage next to the bar. The walls had the usual Celtic kitsch: street signs in Gaelic, shamrocks, horse tack, and toucan-bearing beer ads.
“Good thing we’re early.” James raced to claim two empty chairs as though there were a line for them. He postponed his speech long enough to signal the waitress, who turned out to be a pixie the size of a nine-year-old. She had enormous eyes, beautiful gossamer wings, and wore a ‘Pygg and Wassail’ logo emblazoned on her shirt. She handed us the menus, then flitted off.
She also had to hustle like a quarterback, since she appeared to be the only employee. Poor girl looked tired and overworked, but even Tinkerbell must have had to make ends meet before her acting career took off.
James couldn’t wait anymore. Here came the therapy session. “I for one, am very happy that you’ve finally given up on Rob. You’ve been panting after him for, how long has it been, three years now?”
“Yeah. About that long.” I took another puff of the cigarette, trying to finish it before someone scolded me for smoking indoors. He was right, of course. I of all people could recognize a clean break when it hit me in the face. If only getting hit in the face didn’t hurt so much.
“And all that time he’s been with the same girl.” James lifted the menu and raised his eyebrows at the waitress, gesturing his fingers. “Two wassails, two boxtys.”
She nodded and walked off. Her apron nearly trailed on the ground.
Did the other people mistake the pixie for a child? I slipped off my bindi quickly for a second to see. Nope. With the fey glamour she looked petite but adult.
I put it back on. “Rob’s only been with Julie for two and a half years.”
“Whatever. My point is, the reason you decided you were in love with him is because he’s safe. You knew he would never return your affections, so you never had to actually face up to the scary reality of a relationship. You decided to love Rob because he was a good excuse not to look elsewhere, like Fenwick, for example.”
“What the hell is that supposed to mean?”
“You slept with him, didn’t you?” James was the gossip king, but less than twenty-four hours was amazing even for him, especially since I hadn’t actually told anyone.
“It didn’t mean anything.” But it was starting to mean something. The previous night’s intimacy was a seed that was germinating, a seed of something good.
“How do you feel about him?”
“I’m not in love with him. He’s just a friend.”
The pixie returned, bearing cups and plates of food. James paid her, and ordered two more drinks, which turned out to be a brilliant piece of soothsaying because we didn’t see her again for an hour.
“What’s in this?” I lifted the earthenware cup and sniffed warily. “Is it alcoholic?”
“It’s wassail, spiced wine. You have to try it and the boxty your first time here.” He dug into his dinner, which looked like dog food on a pancake. “Kit, do you trust Rob?”
I had to think about it a minute. “No, not exactly trust.”
“How do you feel about him?”
“With Rob I feel fireworks. When I see him I get nervous and fluttery.” The boxty turned out to be beer-marinated beef on a pancake instead of dog food.
“You know why I think you’re attracted to Rob? It’s because he’s like Dad.”
“Okay, now I know you’re smoking crack.” But I felt a moment of sick jarring focus, because it felt true.
“Does Rob drink?”
I lifted the wassail to gesture. “Yeah, so do we all.” But not every night, and we didn’t drink until we got drunk, like Rob did.
“And then he gets in fights.”
“Yeah, sometimes.” And sometimes he picked them, which was pretty crappy, when you really thought about it.
“And he ignores you most of the time, and he makes you miserable because he takes you for granted.”
“He doesn’t—” But he did. He borrowed money and didn’t pay me back. He stood me up. He said something nice one day and then mocked me the next. He made me feel off balance and chaotic, just like Rolf had.
“I know the kind of guy you go for, Kit. If Fenwick got drunk and pushed you down the stairs, you’d be all over him, but he doesn’t, so you don’t even consider him an option. He’s perfect for you. He’s tall, he’s well built, he’s not bad looking, he’s got a good job, you share interests, and most importantly, he’s obviously in love with you.”
“I don’t think he feels that way about me. It was a charity lay. I needed it, and he helped me out. I’m not the kind of girl Fenwick usually sleeps with.” But it was a nice idea. Wouldn’t it be great if he really did love me? “I’m not ready for a relationship, James. I’ve got too much baggage.”
“I want you to be happy.”
“You done lecturing now?” I meant to put more sarcasm into it, but my heart wasn’t there.
“Promise me you’ll talk to Fenwick. He doesn’t seem like the kind of guy who sleeps with a friend if he’s not interested in her.”
“He’s not the kind of guy I usually fall for.”
“That’s exactly why he’s good for you.”
> “Fine. I promise I’ll talk to him about last night.” And even if he didn’t love me, maybe he’d be okay with me calling myself his girlfriend? Hugs, kisses, occasional sex?
“You’re smiling.”
I blushed and turned away. “Ulrich’s here.”
Ulrich didn’t come alone. Elaina trailed behind him, along with a beefy guy who had a scraggly beard, a flannel shirt, and a too tight tee shirt that practically screamed ‘programmer.’ The fourth person in their party was a human sized, bipedal, two-tailed fox. The fox headed to the bar to fetch beers while his companions walked to our table.
“Who’s the fox?” I asked, pointing to the bar and waggling my eyebrows. Ulrich stifled a laugh at my double entendre, but no one else got it.
“Takuji?” Elaina asked with a frown. “I guess he is pretty good looking. But where are we all going to sit?”
“Take my spot. I’ve had enough for the evening. James, walk with me to the bus stop.” It would make James feel better to act protective.
James shrugged into his tweed coat as we walked out the door. “You want to ask me something?”
“I want to quit.” And I told him about the work Silvara hired me for, which was a perfectly good reason to not want a day job anymore. I didn’t want him to know the real reason to avoid Ishmael’s for a while; that someone was stalking me there.
“You’re welcome back whenever you need work,” James said.
“This isn’t going to put you out, is it?”
“No. Barnabus, the new guy, he’s pretty competent. He’s almost six feet tall, and he’s black, so I think my tea leaf reading finally came true. Speaking of which, I made something for you.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out an amulet, which he draped around my neck. A small suede pouch hung from the bottom, lumpy with stones and herbs. The bag glowed faintly with a rosy hue.
“What’s this for?”
“It’s a protection amulet. I did another tea leaf reading on you and, well, it’s nothing. I know you don’t believe in witchcraft, but I thought you should have it. Don’t expect it to stop a bullet, but it should help you against curses. Not that anyone’s going to be able to curse you unless they get some hair or fingernails, but you know I worry and—”
“I’ll wear it, James.” I stopped at the bus stop and gave him a little hug. “I hope I won’t need it.”
“I hope so too,” he said. There was an undertone of fear in his voice. James wasn’t any better at hiding his emotions than I was.
Chapter Sixteen
After a week and a half (though it seemed longer) the fear of disappointing Kishimoto-sensei overcame the fear of embarrassing myself in front of the other karate students, and I returned to the dojo. The class had less than a dozen people that day, all college students except for me, and unfortunately, Rob came too.
Life was simple in the dojo. Your opponent faced you, and you knew pretty quick if he was bigger or stronger or faster. You saw the hits coming, and you had a chance to block or dodge, and best of all, to strike back. You couldn’t punch your way out of a broken heart. You couldn’t kick a curse. You couldn’t karate-chop a bullet.
Sparring classes were my favorite, mostly because I could watch Rob as he fought. He was still gorgeous, still had that perfect smile, but the thrill of hope was missing. It was like picking at a wound after the scab was gone—not as satisfying, but slightly less painful.
Maybe James was right. Maybe I knew all along that Rob would never love me. Maybe I chose to fall for him because he was too oblivious to notice. Things had changed now. Whether I wanted to or not, I couldn’t pretend that it would all work out some day. It was time to either pick up and move on with my life, or admit that I was too cowardly to face the idea of a relationship.
“Break! Miss Cammie, you need more force in your punches. Mister Rob, better with the blocks, but keep your kicks high.” Kishimoto-sensei looked at the clock, and then at the remaining karate students. “Next, Mister Theo and Miss Jessica.”
Rob sat down next to me, where I couldn’t see him without turning my head. Just as well. I probably shouldn’t be staring at him anymore. How do you fall out of love? Maybe James knew a spell to help me. Maybe it would even work. The amulet he gave me lay thick and sweaty under my gi, dangling down my back where it wouldn’t get kicked. Last night it had been glowing like a star in the darkness of my new bedroom, working hard against my unnamed assailant.
Jessica and Theo finished their match, and Kishimoto-sensei let us go without any Chinese Thinkers. After class we bowed out and sat along the wall to take our gear off.
“Ow, Jessica. You hit too hard.” Theo flirted with the cute brunette, dragging his arm like a wounded bird. “Maybe you should kiss it and make it better.”
“You’re so bad.” She grinned, and gave him a peck on the elbow.
“I think I hurt my groin too.” He leered, and we all laughed. Theo blew her a kiss as she walked off towards the changing room with the other women.
“Good match, Kit,” Kyle stuffed his mouth guard into a case. “And, uh, thanks, you know. For that other night. I was kind of a dick. Here’s the money for the beers.”
“Thanks.” I hadn't really counted on him paying me back, so the money felt like a windfall. My shin pads were getting frayed along the edge. Have to replace those sooner or later. This would help.
“What’s that for?” Theo asked, nodding at the money Kyle gave me.
“For sexual favors,” I quipped, tucking the money in my gym bag.
“Really?” Theo waggled his eyebrows. “Give me a price list sometime.”
“Yeah, and Fenwick will kick your ass,” Kyle said.
“Might be worth it.” Theo winked at me.
As soon as the door to the changing room shut, Cammie and Jessica started talking about the guys.
“Theo is so funny!” Jessica said. “He doesn’t have a girlfriend, does he?”
“No, I don’t think so. You should totally ask him out,” Cammie whispered, “but I still think the other guy’s cuter.”
“Who? Kyle?” Hannah asked.
“Alan Fenwick.” Cammie pulled off her headgear and shook out her braids. “We had a nice chat after class the other day. I think we really hit it off.”
My glove laces needed extra attention. The knot came out very slowly, and then had to be re-folded just so.
“He was definitely flirting with you,” Jessica told her friend. “You should see if he wants to come with us next Friday.”
How dare they talk about Fenwick that way! But he wasn’t mine. We were just friends. Now for the other glove. Not too quickly. Wouldn’t want to rush anything.
“Does he have a girlfriend?” Cammie wanted to know.
Hannah cleared her throat and angled her head towards me. “Kit would know. She’s always talking to him after class.”
“Oh yeah?” Cammie stuffed her gloves into a sport bag and looked me over as though trying to decide if I was competition. “Are you two an item?”
“Us?” And I could have said yes. She would never know. But she was really gorgeous, and graceful, and she was going to college, so she was probably smarter than me, and she was interested in him. I was his friend, right? Casual. Not possessive. It wasn’t like sleeping together just once really meant anything. Just because I hated it when he had a girlfriend didn’t mean that I should stand in his way when a hot babe wanted him.
“Me? And Fenwick?” I gave her a smile as false and painful as her twenty-inch waist. “No.” Fenwick please turn her down. I really need you. “We’re just friends.”
“Then you should totally ask him out!” Jessica said, flipping back towards Cammie. “Ask him to come with you to the show on Friday. I’ve got an extra comp ticket. We can all go to that new sushi place afterward.”
It hurt like a strong right jab in the solar plexus. I stood up and left before they could see my face and walked out the door.
“Hey, Kit, wait up a second.” Rob called out a
s I headed towards my van. Oh shit. Him too? My chest constricted. Two minutes earlier and I would have been able to avoid him. All that effort spent trying to fall out of love with him wasted in one second.
“Hi, Rob.” I managed a weak smile.
“How come you weren’t here last week? You’re not still pissed at me, are you?”
“I’ve been ill. Heart trouble.”
“Dude, that sounds serious, you gonna be okay?” He sounded worried about me. Damn it! Don’t be nice! That makes it harder! I cursed him silently even as I smiled at the pleasure of seeing him.
“I’ll be fine.” I had to get out of here, but I didn’t want to go.
“Hey, Kit, I …” Rob held my forearm. “Fenwick said I hurt your feelings. I just wanna say, I’m sorry. I guess I didn’t think that, well, you kinda surprised me, you know? We can still be friends, right?”
“Maybe later.” I regretfully pulled my arm away from his fingers. Why did Julie get to feel those fingers? Why did he have to love her? Why couldn’t it have been me? When did I get to be someone’s lover? “I have to go.”
“See you around.” He waved as he rejoined his college friends.
“Yeah, see you.” Hopefully not.
I stopped at a convenience store on the way home and bought another pack of cigarettes, Marlboros this time. Reds, not the crappy light ones. Men were going to be the death of me.
Chapter Seventeen
I had been working on boughs all morning and almost all afternoon when Elaina came home from her lunch shift at the restaurant.
“You’re still here?” Elaina asked as she came down the stairs. “Don’t you ever leave?”
“I’m leaving soon.” There were strands of hot glue in my hair and bits of cornhusk stuck to my jeans. Better change.
“Going to the dojo again?” She threw her keys onto the kitchen counter and started sliding off her shoes.
“Yeah. Where else would I go?” The smell of her shoes wafted towards me. “Hey, can you put those outside? They stink.”
