To Be With You (12 page)

T
he clinical white practice dojang had turned yellow with age, with large green mats on which partners sparred to the smell of sweat and the sound of plastic padded feet smacking Styrofoam chest covers.

Sean felt at home here, across from another man who wanted what he wanted. It would be decided fairly, by force, by sheer work and control. Sean wished everything was this simple, that you could get anything you wanted simply through work and perseverance, and being stronger than the other guy. He wanted to win. He wanted to forget what he’d seen at the beach the other day. He nearly accomplished it with a hard kick to the other guy’s abdomen when the ref signaled the end of the match.

“Sean, control yourself,” Nathan, his top teacher, said, taking Sean aside. “You’re going to hurt someone, or get called for excessive force.”

“I know,” he said. “I hope I do.”

“This is just a practice round.” Nate waved at the ref and shepherded Sean away from the mat. The fight was over; he wasn’t letting him back in the ring. “I don’t care if you glare at me, I’m not letting you do that to the studio’s reputation just because you are having problems.”

Sean glared at him and pulled off his head protector and stomped outside, heavy footsteps echoing over the wooden floor accentuated by the quietness of the light footsteps of the other practicing fighters. No use looking at any of their faces as he left. Sean kept seeing the man from the beach in each of his opponents. He knew beating them would only get him closer to nationals, that it wouldn’t make Nicole love him. He couldn’t win Nicole by simply being good, the best even, but making the other guy crap himself seemed like a fine consolation.

The sun was bright in his eyes and Sean put a hand up. Ahead, across the street was a nice field, with some trees on one side, a good place to sit. Not caring that he was wearing his nicest white gi, not checking the ground to see if the grass was wet, he plopped down, then sank his face into his hands. He swiped an arm across his sweaty forehead, then used his gi when that didn’t work.

The sky was blue, the grass was plush, and the field was wide and lined for soccer, with at least two separate playing fields marked out with painted white grass. Maybe he should have played soccer as a kid. What would he have done if Nicole hadn’t said she’d liked martial arts?

Nothing probably. But what else about him would have been different without her? He looked down at his hands, which were calloused, his forearms, which were defined with muscles. In fact, without much concentration he could flex a myriad of muscles in his body, his thighs, his arms, his back, and his abs. All of that was probably from her. Perhaps good things had happened even for a bad reason. You shouldn’t make yourself into something so someone else would like you. He’d heard that a million times since being little, but the people saying it must never have loved a woman and wanted to be wanted by her.

He picked up a piece of grass and played with it, looked at it carefully then split it down the center. He put it to his mouth and tried to whistle on it the way Nicole had shown him when they were little. He wondered if he should have just seen a shrink the minute that being a male escort for her had occurred to him. No, the shrink would have told him to give up, and that wasn’t what he wanted.

He was a good guy. What had someone said once? The way to get over a woman is to get under one? Maybe they had something. The day was green and blue and shiny, the world meant to be lived in, and Nicole had chosen to do it with someone else. It was time to move on. He threw the blade of grass to the side and stood to go inside. Suddenly it occurred to him that he didn’t know how to choose. He’d always had his eye on one woman, one person, like the only star in the sky to guide by. He’d been so busy all these years berating Nicole for her bad taste in men that he hadn’t even considered that he himself didn’t know how to choose a girl at all.

Then it hit him like a paper airplane to the side of the head, gentle and sharp. Ask Nicole. Let her help you the way you tried to help her.

She’ll be jealous, a little voice said inside him. He knew it was probably true; she’d always had him to herself, and the thought made him a bit angry. So she was allowed to be with other people but he wasn’t? He’d show her. He pulled out his phone and texted.

“Hi Nick. You never did tell me about your date. Also, I have a favor to ask.” He sent the text and waited, and by the time her reply came, he was chewing one of the pieces of grass and not even noticing it.

“Hi. Date went well. I think he’s someone you’d like. What’s the favor?”

As if, he thought. “Can you help me find someone to date?” He pressed send and dropped the phone. He paced with his hands behind his back. He was staring at a particularly large tree and wondering how far he could climb up it now that he was twenty-four when the phone vibrated again. He dove for it like a starving man for a dropped donut.

“Sure!” it said. “This is huge for you! I’m so excited. Wanna meet up?”

Sean threw the phone at the tree. It plopped off the bark and landed in the needles and Sean palmed his face, walking over to survey the damage. He scooped the phone up and was relieved to see it still worked. He looked at the disappointing words, still on the screen, and sighed, sinking with his back to the tree, feeling it scrape against him and wondering if he’d damaged his gi. What had he wanted her to say? No, I won’t hook you up with anyone. I want you for myself. What was this, a chick flick? He dug his fingers into his knees and exhaled. No, if that had been the case, she wouldn’t have been playing kissy face on the beach behind his back. No, it hadn’t been behind his back. She’d told him she had a date. He guessed that a kiss on the first date wasn’t a breach of propriety. He stared at the phone for a long moment. Then texted “Sure. Where are u?”

He flipped the phone around in his hand, and felt a cool breeze wash over him, a sure sign that the afternoon was turning to evening. He stood to feel it all across his body. He took off his gi top to be cooler.

“Whoa there,” a female voice said.

Sean flipped around to see who said it. A girl was crossing the street. A typical tae kwon do girl, tall, thin, in a gi. He supposed she was pretty, in a ‘not Nicole’ kind of way. He tried to force any thought of Nicole out of his mind to fairly evaluate this woman.

She came closer and stuck a hand out for him. She had round, frank green eyes, and a small mouth. Nothing like Nicole’s almond eyes and wide, luscious—stop it! Sean tried to look normal. He leaned with a hand against the tree but came off balance and stumbled to the side. He caught himself with a hand on the ground, but it was too late to look cool.

The woman laughed. She held a hand out but he just sat on the ground.

“I’m already down. Want to join me?” he patted the grass by him.

“Sure.” She plopped down. “You gotta warn a girl before you take that top off, that’s lethal right there.”

His heart sank. He was gross, huh? Should have warned someone before letting his sweaty—

“Don’t look like that; I mean that you’re hot.”

He looked up at her, shocked, as his phone buzzed.

“You have a text.” She pointed with a long finger. Sean thought he could get used to a tall girl around. She was nice. Made him feel better about himself than Nicole … wait … text? He grabbed the phone. He looked at the girl, who seemed a little disappointed that he was going to look at the text instead of talking to her.

“So you a competitor?” the girl asked, twirling grass between her fingers on the ground. “What’s your name?”

“Sean Rollins,” he said, chucking the phone down without checking it. “And you are?”

“Angela,” she said, smiling at him. He liked her nose. It was straight, long, pretty. He looked down to her belt, noting with approval that it was black with two degrees.

“My face is up here,” she said.

Sean looked up, about to explain himself but she stopped him. “I’m kidding. I know you were looking at my belt.”

“Second degree huh?”

“Yeah.”

“Training for nationals, too?”

“No, just here helping with reffing and coaching a student.”

“Ah,” he said.

“You?”

“Nationals,” he said. “Why, do I look too old?”

“No,” she said, scrunching up her nose. “I mean too old in the TKD world is different from too old in the rest of the world, except for maybe gymnastics, but I think you look fine. As you know.”

Sean puffed up a bit. He wondered if he should puff down, but remembered Nicole had said that women like confidence. “Yeah, you aren’t the only one.”

She raised an eyebrow.

“I mean, my bare chest is basically a national threat. I thought I was safe out here and wouldn’t put anyone at risk of fainting if I took off my shirt—but…well …” He shrugged, and she laughed, putting her hand over her stomach.

“How are you going to make it up to me?”

Gosh, was it this easy to talk to women? This one was basically lining it up for him to ask her out. He should have tried this sooner. Not whipping off his shirt in public, but maybe just … being friendlier.

“I don’t know,” he said. “Ice cream?” He stood and held a hand out to her. She took it and stood up. She was only a few inches shorter than him, putting her around six feet tall. He approved.

“That sounds like a good start.”

“Great. I know a good place just down the street.”

“Ice cream during training?” she said, putting her hands on her thin hips. “Scandalous.”

“I know!” He said. “I’m a bad boy I guess.”

“Ooh. I like that,” she said. “Kind of a rare thing in TKD.”

“Oof, really?”

“Usually,” she said. She looked around the parking lot. “Which one is yours?”

“I thought we’d walk.”

“In this heat?” she folded her arms.

“Hey, there’s a nice breeze,” he said, walking ahead and hoping she’d follow. “And remember, I’m in training. If I’m going to eat ice cream you have to help me work it off.”

“Oh, I’m so down for that.” She looked from his head to his feet.

He didn’t know what she meant and her wink just heightened his confusion. “I can already tell you’re adorable,” she said. She grabbed his arm and pulled him along.

N
icole looked out at the setting sun from her bedroom window, then down at her phone. It was growing darker outside and she felt slightly worried. She’d wanted a chance to talk with him about her date, selfishly wanted to ask for his help, so she’d been relieved that he’d asked something similar in return. Had he changed his mind? Was he now ready to date someone else? That was a huge step for him, and she’d been proud. Not jealous. Not jealous at all. She sighed.

She sat on the bedspread, admired how the blue looked steely in the setting sun and waited. The phone finally vibrated and she grabbed it, flipped it open, and froze.

“Too late! I found one.”

Her shoulders fell. The room’s silence hung around her. No excuse to talk to him now.

“Can we still talk for bit? I need advice.”

“Sure. Is tomorrow good? My night just got tied up.”

“Sure. Text me tomorrow.” She sent the text and felt it wasn’t friendly enough, so followed it up with one that said, “And congrats by the way. Have a good night.” She closed the phone and lay back on the bed, pulling her laptop on to her lap and looking for something to do online. She felt lonely in a way she never had before. She looked at the phone, which sat silent on the bed.

Too late.

Sean was feeling good by the time he got home after dropping Angela off. She’d been easy to talk to, fun, and hadn’t seemed to mind that he compulsively mentioned his best friend who happened to be a good-looking female. He sat on one of his stools, trying to pin down why.

She had looked at him like she wanted him. He liked her green eyes that turned brownish when you got closer. The way she occasionally touched his arm, casually, as if she hadn’t meant to. Her only fault was that she just wasn’t Nicole and nothing was going to change that. She’d seemed like she wanted to be kissed when he dropped her off, but when she’d leaned in, it hadn’t felt right, and he had resolved not to use her as a rebound, tempting as that was.

Just being wanted was so nice. The clock over the sink said eight forty five. Not too late to text Nicole. He pulled out his phone. There were three texts, one saying goodnight and congrats, and one more asking if he was still up.

He texted back, “Yes, I’m home, did you still want to talk?”

He went to get ready for bed in case she said no. He was barely at his bedroom when his phone vibrated.

“Sure. Can you go online?”

He wondered if she’d ask about his date. He hoped so.

“Sure. I’ll be on in ten,” he texted.

He stumbled into the bathroom, pulling off his shirt as he went. He wanted to be all ready for bed in case she wanted to talk late, so he could just fall into bed right after.

He looked at himself in the mirror for a minute before washing his face. He flexed his abs, then turned around and flexed his back. Oh yeah, peak shape. If he kept dating Angela, he might actually have a woman seeing him naked soon. He eyed his reflection, horrified. He had no idea how to deal with that eventuality. He scratched his chest, then his head. He’d always sort of pictured that happening with Nicole, and only after they were married. He washed his face, enjoying the cold water and then the rough toweling off afterwards.

He sat on the computer stool, shirtless. He logged in and waited for his chat program to start up, then realized he was still in his jeans, so he got up and replaced them with soft flannel pajama pants. This was a good look for him, showing off his chest and abs, and he sort of wished they were video chatting. But maybe that would freak her out. Who was he kidding? He didn’t know what would freak her out sexually, it was just sort of a general hunch that everything did.

A chat bubble popped up with Nicole’s username.

N: Hi

S: That was fast.

N: Sorry. You still getting ready?