Sunday, February 24, 1980.
The short, hardwood staff weaved a gentle path through the still air of
the Camden flat. It continued in a series of rhythmic, sweeping arcs and
thrusts — its motion steady, yet fluid. Then the staff came to a sudden halt,
as if it had struck an unseen target.
The lad at the other end of the staff opened his eyes, very satisfied
with his performance of the jō suburi. His small frame stood tall on the vinyl
practice mat in the middle of the spacious living room. He cannot help but
swell with youthful pride. He had only been instructed in the use of the jō
(short staff) for a few months, yet the lad quickly became proficient enough to
be allowed to practice the basic motions at home as part of his regular fitness
routine.
The lad exhaled a long breath and closed his eyes to repeat the
routine, when he heard a sharp buzz blare from the intercom.
The young man tensed slightly with confusion. His parents were out of
the country on business. And he was not expecting company. In fact, he had planned
to meet a friend at the library later that evening.
The talking feature of the intercom had never worked, so the lad
stepped out of the flat and into a pair of sandals by the welcome mat, then glided
down the stairwell to open the main entrance door.
“Dan. Hello…”
The lad was pleasantly surprised to discover the arrival to be Danielle,
the friend that he planned to later meet. The very comely lass of 16 years
quickly stepped inside the open doorway, looking very relieved to be in the
overheated air of the foyer. The lass’ long wool coat, thick oversized sweater,
and corduroy pants apparently did not offer much protection against the bitter
cold Camden afternoon.
Just as the door closed, the lass’s canvas tote bag dropped from her
bare left hand to the marble floor with a soft thud as she immediately shed her
coat and draped it over her left arm. She turned to face the lad.
“Hi, Xummy,” she began, her British accent thick as honey. “I know we were
supposed to meet at the library later, but I just needed to get away from the
house and… my mother, y’know?” She pushed a few errant strands of her curly bleached-blond
hair from her forehead with her free hand, her glittering sea-green eyes never
leaving his face. “So I thought I’d pick you up for our ‘study date’.”
The lad inwardly winced at the young woman’s use of the word “date,”
but that did not diminish his knowing smile as he glanced at her tote bag. “And
you needed a place to change,” he continued.
“And I needed a place to change,” she confirmed laughingly as she
picked up the bag. “You know me so well…” Her voice trailed off as she looked
at the lad’s gi and hakama intently. “I see you are doing your Ice… Eye…”
“Aikido,” the lad finished, smiling slightly. Most
of the other students in his fifth form class would generally, and thus erroneously,
refer to his martial art as “Karate”. The lass seemed to be the only one to
make the effort to know the actual name.
“Right. Eye-kiddo,” she attempted. (The lad felt it was close enough.)
“Should I come back later…?”
“Oh, no… no. Please…” the lad quickly said, gesturing the young woman
toward the stairwell.
Her apologetic eyes seemed to flicker with relief as she sighed.
“Thanks, Xummy. My mother was supposed to go shopping, but changed her mind.
And I don’t want to change in the library toilet.”
“Of course,” the lad assured her as the pair started to ascend the
stairwell toward his parent’s flat. “No trouble at all.”
The beautiful lass smiled warmly. “I’m so lucky to have a friend like
you.”
The lad returned the smile. The feeling was mutual. The two had become
such good friends — and so quickly — after that memorable school day last October.
The lad was not quite sure how; it just… happened. Their first meeting
came from the lass’ need to better understand Shakespeare in order to keep pace
with their literature class, and she had seen how the lad demonstrated his firm
handle of the subject matter in the classroom discussion. However, in their
first study session in the library later that day, the pair had learned more
about each other than about the writings of the Bard.
Perhaps the reason that they seemed to immediately… click… was the fact
that they saw each other in a way that was different than how other students
had viewed them (which was essentially the typical teenage stereotypes of
“bookworm” and “tart”). They actually saw each other as people who realized that neither
of them seemed to truly fit in with any of the traditional social circles of
their school.
Of course, the lad’s intentions toward Danielle immediately fell under
suspicion by her disciplinarian parents, particularly her mother, when they had
found out about that initial study session. They had every right to be
suspicious, for the lass had lied to them about the length of time she had
spent studying with the lad — as an alibi for a supper she secretly had with
another boy afterward. The lass did confess to the lad in their first library
meeting that her parents had forbidden their daughter from dating because they
believed she was “much too young” to be doing so. While they had both felt that
the restriction was quite excessive, the lad had liked to believe that the
parents were intent on protecting their daughter, and that their hearts were in
the right place.
And yet, in an uncharacteristic act of dishonesty (the reason for which
the lad could not fully explain at the time), the lad corroborated the lass’
tale to her mother, who demanded to meet him immediately after school dismissal
the following day. While the mother did not approve of her daughter spending
time alone with a boy, she did agree that his tutoring can be helpful. So the
mother would accompany the pair on their subsequent study sessions. After a few
weeks, the lad’s characteristic courtesy and earnest desire to help her
daughter with schoolwork eventually led the mother to trust them to study in
the library on their own.
The lad knew that the lass’ mother would feel very differently about
trusting them if she knew her daughter was currently standing in her stocking
feet within the lad’s home without a chaperone. The lass had admitted on
numerous occasions how much she had envied the lad’s seemingly independent
lifestyle. This was actually borne out of family tradition (he had learned, as
both of his parents did, how to cook for both himself and the family since the
age of ten), as well as necessity, given that his parents’ work schedules and
business travel required him to fend for himself much of the time.
The lad also knew that Danielle’s mother would feel very differently
about trusting them if she knew that their study session today was really a
front for the lass’ plans to have a “secret rendezvous” with… Derek, he believed
his name was. Derek was a nineteen-year-old that worked at one of the small
pubs near their school. Derek was also the latest of four boyfriends that the lass
had been covertly dating since the second study session after her mother
stopped supervising them.
Of course, the lass would not have been able to manage all of these
secret affairs without the lad providing an alibi. Again, the lad was not fully
sure why he would bluff to the lass’ parents about what their daughter does
under the pretense of their lengthy study sessions. Perhaps to the lad’s
youthful mind, the lass’ parents appeared to be unreasonably strict regarding
her social life. It had seemed that the few times they had permitted her to be
out of her home were only related to school and studying.
In fact, not every lie was covering a clandestine tryst with a secret boyfriend.
On a few occasions the lad and lass would spend their “study time” together at
a local eatery, or at the cineplex, or on long walks through a harsh British
winter (with much of the warmth coming from their conversation… and her
laughter).
For the most part, the lad agreed to cover for the lass’ dating, and
their time spent cultivating their friendship, on the condition that they do go
to the library and spend some time actually studying. That way the lad would
not be technically lying when asked about their study sessions. He knew that a
lie of omission was still a lie, but he at least justified these slight bouts
of deceit (at least to himself) by having his actions encourage his friend to
spend more time on her schoolwork. Plus, the lass’ marks were improving — which
greatly pleased her parents and essentially sealed their approval of their
unchaperoned study sessions.
The lad remembered the joy that flickered in Danielle’s eyes a few
weeks ago when she received a perfect score on her literature exam (the first
she ever had). To reward and celebrate her achievement, the lad treated her to
an after-school fish-and-chips at a nearby pub. The pub’s owner happened to be
a friend of the lad’s father, so he had no qualms about allowing the underage
lad and his plus-one to come in on their own to have a meal. It was during this
repast that their server — Derek — caught the lass’ eye, and she had obviously
caught his...
…And later today they would have their third date, for which
the lass was readying herself in the privacy of the lad’s bedroom. While the lass did not share any
details of her last two encounters, the enthusiasm she expressed to the lad
implied that her relationship with Derek was progressing well.
The lad stepped back onto the practice mat. He drew a pained breath as
he glanced down the hallway that led to the room where the lass was changing.
He felt a touch of envy… and also felt a little ashamed for doing so. He knew for
certain that, although their relationship was platonic, he and the lass had
never known another person more intimately than they had known each other. But recently,
he started to hope that their burgeoning friendship would evolve into
something… more.
The lad shook his head, as if that would somehow help hurl those
thoughts out of his mind. He picked up the jō he left on the floor by the practice
mat, and placed his body in hanmi to resume the suburi. But while his stance
was correct, the staff seemed to feel… different in his hands than it did
before. His first choku tsuki felt a little clumsy, and the second attempt at
the strike was completely out of alignment. Not wanting to engrain an improper technique
into his form, the lad discarded the jō and instead decided to finish his
workout with ashi-sabaki undo.
As the lad’s father would say, “When the hands do not work, work your
feet.”
The basic footwork exercises of Aikido were second nature to the lad. Each
step, slide and pivot was made with fluid, yet mechanical precision. They were also
mostly driven by muscle memory as the lad’s mind drifted toward thoughts of the
young woman who was in his bedroom taking off her…
His brow furrowed. Enough of that,
he chided himself. He closed his eyes and mentally recited the names of each
ashi-sabaki step he performed in an attempt to quell his hormonal thoughts. Tenkai… Tankan… Irimi-tenkan… Okuri-ashi
tenshin... Ayumi-ashi tenshin…
It took a few dozen iterations, but the ashi-sabaki finally started to
lull his anxious mind…
The lad’s exercise and meditation was interrupted by a slight feminine
giggle. He opened his eyes to see Danielle standing before him. Blinking with
slight embarrassment, his eyes instinctively performed a rapid sweep up and
down the lass’s body… just enough to take in her appearance.
She was wearing an outfit her mother would most definitely never
approve: a tight black halter top with a plunging neckline and a very short form-fitting
denim skirt over a pair of sheer black stockings (that the lad vainly hoped
would keep her warm in the frigid outdoor air).
While the lad did admire the lass’ shapely figure (he had both 16 years
of age and male hormones, after all), he only gave it the briefest regard. His
gaze tended to linger on what he liked to see on his friend the most: the sly
glint of sea-green in her eyes, and her smile.
And he still liked to see those eyes and that smile even though they were
currently covered with too much makeup (the lad thought that any amount of makeup
was “too much”). He had once asked the lass why she wore it, trying to hint
that she did not need it, and she told him that she found the act of putting on
makeup to be “fun.” It made her “feel like an actress preparing for an
important role.” The lad then wanted to know whether the lass felt that she had
to act as someone else while dating, and why she could not simply be the lovely
person she already was. These would be two of many questions the lad would
regret not asking her…
On the practice mat, the lad noticed the lass was staring at him. Her
face appeared a bit critical. “What is it?” he asked.
“Your eye-key… ah… footstep thing. You make it look so… graceful.” The
green in her eyes was more pronounced now, almost glittering. “Hard to believe
this is the awkward boy I usually see shuffling about to class…”
The lad smiled slightly and shrugged. “Well, I’ve been performing Aikido
for years,” he began, stressing the name of the martial art. “Practice long
enough and it becomes a part of you.” The lad said this very matter-of-factly,
with no sense of self-aggrandizement whatsoever.
“Ah.” The lass smiled with acknowledgement and glanced around the
living room, eying the small radio on a corner table. “Well, if you’re done, is
it okay if I put on some music while I wait for you to change?”
The lad nodded, and watched the lass’s smooth slender hand snap on the device
and work the tuner from the original news talk programming through intense
waves of static until she found a popular music station that suited her fancy.
The opening notes and lyrics of “Babe” performed by Styx started to fill the
room.
The young woman cooed. “Ooh, I love this song!” She was immediately at
the lad’s side tugging at his arm. “Dance with me… please?”
The lad swallowed… hard. “I… uh… do not know how…” he stammered.
The lass giggled again. “You kiddin’? With all your fancy ice-kiddo footwork,
slow dancin’ should be dead simple. Here…” She took the lad’s right hand and guided
it to rest on her left hip, and chuckled softly as the lad quickly moved it up
to her waist. With a gentle nod and a puckish grin she gripped his left hand
tightly. “I’ll lead.”
And she did. The lad’s first stumbling steps quickly started to find a gentle
circular rhythm as his comely companion slowly steered him around the practice
mat. For a brief moment, the lad’s eyes locked with hers, and he knew in his
heart that he would be willing to follow this woman… anywhere.
Dennis DeYoung’s vocals continued to profess feelings for a true love
that had to be left behind, and then moved to the chorus, which echoed some of the
lad’s thoughts toward the lass who was leaning, almost snuggling, closer
against him.
You know it's
you, babe
Whenever I get
weary/And I've had enough
Feel like giving
up
You know it's you,
babe
Giving me the
courage/And the strength I need
Please believe
that it's true
Babe, I love you
The words seemed to hang in the air as the electric guitar and
synthesizers commenced an instrumental solo.
It was then that the lad started to feel Danielle’s head gently settle on
his left shoulder — a familiar weight that reminded him of the three somber
occasions whereby the lad had comforted the young woman as she softly sobbed
over a painful break-up from a boyfriend. But then the lad felt the mass of the
lass’s full breasts as they suddenly pressed closer against his pounding chest.
There was both a rush of warmth and a cold tingle in his stomach as the young
woman’s hands slid behind his back and clutched him tightly.
“Dan?” The lad was concerned. He could feel her body trembling. “What’s
wr…?”
“Shh,” she whispered, without moving her head. “Just hold me, Xum.
Please.”
You know it's
you, babe
The lad wrapped his arms around the lass as they continued to sway so very
slowly across the vinyl mat.
Giving me the
courage/And the strength I need
His steps felt much steadier now, and he boldly pulled her even closer
in their embrace.
Please believe
that it's true
He wanted nothing more but to keep practicing this slow dance until her
touch and her warmth would become very much a part of him…
Babe I love you.
The music started to slowly fade, and the pair were startled by the
harsh chimes that brusquely signaled the radio station news and traffic report.
Reluctantly, the lad released his dance partner as she removed her hands and had
taken a few slow steps back. She kept her head down, gazing at the mat lying beneath
them. The lad thought he heard a slight sniffle
as she was taking in a breath.
“Dan…?” the lad began. His voice was still tinged with concern as he
saw her hand move to her eyes as she turned toward the living room window.
With her free hand the lass waved away the question. “I’m okay. I
just…” she started to say softly, cutting herself off to draw another long
breath. She exhaled it in a strong audible sigh. “Whooo, boy!” she suddenly
exclaimed. “You are a better dancer than you think, Xummy.” She turned back to
the lad, flashing a cheerful grin. “You’ll sweep some lucky girl off her feet
someday. Just you wait and see.”
The lad’s eyes searched her face intently… and helplessly. He desperately
wanted to know what was bothering her just then, and how he could help. Also,
selfishly, he hoped to find some sign that she may had been dodging the very
thought that was on his mind: that this inexplicable connection the two of them
shared since the moment they first met may be more than just friendship. But he
was not… could not… be sure she felt the same way.
He also lacked the courage to make an attempt to find out.
“Um… Xummy?” the young woman
began slowly. “You better go change if we are going to get some studying done,
yeah?”
The lad found his voice. “Ah… right. Yes…” The lad’s face returned a
smile, but there was a note of sadness to it. He had missed his chance. “We do
have a bit to go through before you run off with Derek this evening.”
The lad saw the lass’s warm smile widen at the name of “noted boyfriend
number four”, and his heart cracked a little more. “I’ll just be ten
minutes…” he added after a long pause. He started down the hallway toward his
bedroom.
The lad would actually take a little longer, for he had discovered
that, while he hardly broke a sweat during his 30 minutes of Aikido routines,
he was perspiring profusely under his gi during the not-even-two-minute slow
dance. So he quickly showered before dressing in a white button shirt and denim
pants. In five minutes, he would don a thick pullover sweater and gather his
books and notes in a knapsack. Then he would help the lass with her coat and
carry her tote bag and his knapsack as they made their way to the train station
and eventually to the library, stopping for a hot Cornish pasty at their
favourite bakery on the way. Then they would have a lengthy study session, followed
by a longer, effervescent discourse on a number of personal and trivial
subjects — including one in which the lass would give the lad a smile that he
would treasure forever. Eventually, Derek would arrive and she would depart
with a muted goodbye… and the lad would watch the couple walk away arm-in-arm until
they were out of his sight. Then he would gather his belongings and make his
way home to cook supper. And of course, he would prepare himself to lie if…
when… the lass’ mother asks him about how the study session went — for he
realized that he had fallen in love with the lass, and would thus do anything
for her… including enabling her to be with another.
But the rest of this day would start in five minutes. Right now, the
lad, still in his room, silently flung himself over on his back on his bed,
exasperated.
Why didn’t I say anything?
He stared at the ceiling, completely unaware that a few short weeks later
he would look back upon this selfsame moment: As he lay in grief on that
selfsame bed — thinking about how the selfsame halter top and skirt of
Danielle’s, folded neatly amid black lace in a spare knapsack in the corner, would
never be returned to their owner — he would ask himself that selfsame question.
Why was I such a coward?
