Terms of Endearment

 We looked into each other’s eyes.  He knew he could kill me, and he also knew
that if he didn’t do it in one shot, then I would kill him.  The seconds passed like a
century, and a minute was reached in a millenium.
 “Melmack’s place, the bookstore.  Your work?” He asked.
 “Of course.” I replied.
 “Different, though, something about it.  Like this.” He nodded toward my current
hunting garb.
 “Yes.”
 “Revenge?” He prompted.  My breathing slowed.  Of course, it was, you idiot.
 “Yes.” I replied.  One of the men on the ground moaned slightly.  I stepped back,
slowly.  Without taking his eyes off me, he fished into a pocket, brought out a cellular
telephone, and dialed.  He barked commands at someone unseen, and droped the phone
back into his pocket.
 “We got three minutes before they get here.”
 “You have three minutes before you need to make a decision.” I replied.
 “And what might that be?  You gonna kill me?” He said.  I thought.  No.  I had no
reason, none whatsoever.  I wouldn’t kill him.  That was the sad part, he’d done nothing
to me, and had gone well out of his way to make my life better.
 “Fact o’ the matter is, darlin’ they way I got it figgured, you now owe me.”
 Damn him.
 Damn this pathetic creature.
 Damn him, for being right.
 For having cornered The Cat.
 “What would you have of me.” I stated.
 “Bury your grudge, whatever it is.  I can see cleaning up scum, don’t get me
wrong, an’ you’re doin’ plenty o’ good, but instead of feedin’ yer soul, it’s begging ta feed
on yer soul.”
 “Funny thing, this coming from you.”
 “’t’least ya know it’s real.  Take it some somebody who just might give a damn.”
 The long pause revisited.
 “Now fer the fun part.” He said.
 “Which is.”
 “You gotta take me outta comission.  I been here too long, on one spot.” He fired
the magnum toward the wall in a skittering procession of bullets, until the gun emptied.
Once it did, I approached him.  He looked almost timid.
 “Swing toward me, hard as you can.” I said.  He swung.  My left arm shot up in an
upper block, it would leave a horrific bruise.  He was thrown off balance, my right arm
shot toward his face, and struck precisely toward the outer orbit of his eye, leave a nasty
bruise, but his vision would be completely unimpared.  His teeth gritted.  I backfisted his
nose gently to get it bleeding, but not enough to push cartilage into the brain.
 Unfortantly, now it was time for the trademark.
 My palm quivered up and down his forehead, and struck him along a primary Qi
meridian.  His body stiffened, and he fell down.  I used a quick bit of accupressure to
release the meridian and allow him normal movement, but it would be a severe shock to
his nervous system.
 “Christ whadday do?”
 “Do not concern yourself.  I will make all right by you within the next few days,
once I have considered your words more carefully.  Sleep now.” I struck him bluntly in the
solar plexus, forcing air from his stomach, and then, probably a touch more forcefully than
I had a right, an uppercut.
 From there I slid away, the great rains of the Pacific Northwest alive and well,
began to fall.  I put fifty cents for a copy of the Laketon Examiner, and bent it over my
head so my makeup would not mar.  It was midnight, I still needed to clear my mind.  I
looked about - no thugs to brawl with, nothing.  I travelled home the same way I came,
toyed with dismembering the cabbie for entertainment value, and walked the last two miles
after leaving him with one of the new ‘ghost of Franklin’ one-hundred dollar bills.  I think
he must have figured I had had a good night.
 At home I stripped the makeup, took another hot shower and walked into my
living room.
 The furniture in my entire home was designed around an enourmous empty space
in the center of the floor.  It measured aproximatly fifteen foot square.  I walked a few
steps into the imaginary square and bowed longly.  My hands came in, fingertip to
fingertip, crossed and then formed into fists, each hand terminated about four inches above
the thigh.
 I whispered to myself, ‘kain kata yaun’.  My head snapped to my left, left leg
leading, weight placed upon the rear foot.  My hands, thrusting in motion with my hips
went first into a down block and then an inside block.  This entire action took a fraction of
a second.  I thrust forward, my right arm and right leg leading.  I turned one-hundred
eighty degrees and repeated the action.  Rotating left ninety degrees, I went to the left,
three straight punches followed by a hideous yell or ki-yah.
 My head snapped toward the right, blocking, then punching.  I spun another
one-hundred eighty degress, repeated my actions, turned toward the left, then the three
punches and ki-yah again.  I veered to the right, and one-hundred eighty degrees for the
last time.  When I came to rest, my right arm was led outward in a punch.  I stood straight
upward, crossed my fists, repeated the name of the kata again and went into a resting
stance.
 My forehead was covered in sweat, and I was shaking slightly.  Deep breaths, in
through my nose, out through my mouth.  I went through an additional thirty-five katas in
a similar fashon, rangeing from white belt to black.  From the karate katas, to the tae
kwon do katas and then to the aikido katas.  It was six-thirty in the morning, my body was
wracked with pain.  I showered yet again and toweled off, swallowing two extra-strength
vicodins, and collapsed into bed.
 I slept an entire day.
 My answering machine accrued seven messages, most of them dealing with my
business, one from the lieutenant’s office notifying me that another police officer had been
assigned to the case, and one from a friend in Chicago.  It was eight o’ clock in the
morning by the time I was dressed and feeling much better, but still very agatated.  I left a
message at the police desk for the lieutenant.  I left three signed blank cheques for my
manager at the bookstore, packed an overnight bag, and with Max leading the way, the
van took of into the west, toward the state of Washington.
 Walla Walla University was some eight hours away, and six years ago.  I reached a
warehouse district not unlike the one that housed my bookstore.  A plain sign simply
pronounced, ‘Shito-Ryo Karate, Matsi Hawagashi, Sensei’.  I walked in.
 A young man called forth from the office toward my left
 “Oss.” He said.  I turned and nodded toward him.
 “Oss.” I replied.  “I seek Matsi.” I replied firmly.
 “I’m afraid Sensei Hawagashi is not in, he will return in the afternoon.”
 “I see.” My lip twitched.  “What time?”
 “I’m not sure.” He replied.  “Is there anything I can help you with.”
 He looked lean and strong.  Around the white ‘gi’ he wore a green belt.
 “I need to sharpen up a bit, it’s been awhile since I’ve gotten to practice.” I
replied.
 “You’re a member?  I’ve been here for five years and have never seen you.”
 “Jessica Melmack.  Lifetime membership.”
 “Okay, let me.” I heard typing after a moment.
 “It’s been a long time, Miss Melmack.  It says here you have a black belt.”
 “Yes, some years ago.  I just need to sharpen up a bit.  Might I used the floor?”
 He smiled
 “Of course.” and bowed toward the open doorwell.
 I changed and began to work through some more katas.  I could see him watch me
from the lobby.  As I finished I turned toward him.
 “Would you care to spar?” I asked, silkily.
 “Sure.” He said, “I’m trying to work up to brown belt.”
 We bowed toward each other at worn marks in the wooden floor.
 He shuffeled foward a backfist in the making.  I sidesliped to the left, sidekicked
him and sent him flying to the wall.  He dropped his hands down in flight and rolled into a
drop.  He got up doggedly with a white face.
 “W-what did you say you were training for?”
 “Personal entertainment.” I replied and gestured him back toward the line.  We
bowed once more.   He began to circle me, occasionally feinting to this or that way.  It
was nice to spar with someone who actually learned not to do stupid things.
 I brought my gaurd down for a second, and he took advantage of it.  As he moved,
I did as well, outside blocking any punch and hitting him squarely in the solar plexus.
Over and over, I baited him, and most times he took it.  After a point he did nothing, but
attempted to bait me.  To be persued!  Now this was a nice bit of entertainment.  For a
while I let at him come at me, and once, as he scored, I dropped him to the floor.  A voice
came from the lobby.
 “Tut-tut Jessica.  That isin’t very nice.” I turned.  Matsi stood there.  I ran toward
him and gave him a big hug.  He returned it.  The green belt look slack-jawed.  Matsi
turned toward him.  “Thank you for entertaining my guest, Micheal.” He bowed quickly.
Matsi stepped into the gentleman’s room, and came out wearing a gi.  “Shall we dance?”
he inquired.
 “Of course.” I replied.
 I bowed to him.  I really needed to have my ass kicked, so I shuffeled forward, and
brought my block up to bear.  While I was busy trying to keep my gaurd up, he simply
snuck a kick under.  Teach me to think hard.  I guess that was the problem.  I started
thinking and stopped being.  My kicks started to fly, and one, out of five hit.  Matsi
smilled.
 “Much better.  I see the Tae Kwan Do has helped your kicking considerably.” I
smiled, spun in a circle and threw him against a wall.
 “Not nearly as much as the JuJitsu has helped my throwing.  I helped him up and
bowed deeply.  We began to spar again, lightheartedly, and with much fun.  I felt more
balanced than I had, in at least a year.  It felt good.  We went out to dinner later, and
talked well into the night.
 I drove home energized, and when I arrived at ten, the workmen were putting in
fresh panes of lexan into the bookstore.  My manager smiled, and waved, said we’d be up
and running in a day or two.  Perfect!