The gym struck me as intimidating. A mixture of sweat, rust and rubber hit me in the face as soon as I stepped a foot inside. Nobody really greeted me, people moved around the place without looking at each other in the eyes.
The place was gigantic: bigger than I thought. I knew there were several floors, one with a pool, one with a boxing ring, one with a basketball court. I walked past the clanking and whirring of machines, and past to the second floor where I was instructed the dojo would be.
I was rather late, I have to admit. I thought I'd walk faster. The sensei was right there at the door, waiting for me, wearing wooden clogs. He was a middle-aged, bald white man with a kind smile. He hurried me inside, asking for no shoes and no socks. He vowed as soon as he entered the tatami and the rest of the group did not vow back. Everyone was facing towards the further end of the dojo, towards the windowpanes, where the trees swayed in the cloudy morning. At first glance, it looked like they were praying.
I hurried to sit just like them, on my knees, and prepped my back straight. I didn't look at the rest. The other sensei was a much younger man, with a full head of hair, silver and brown. His eyes were closed. He then opened them and streched his hands forwards. The rest of the group followed, and so did I. We went through the motions of stretching and activating every part of our body while we counted up to ten in Japanese. After that was done, everyone vowed and murmured, arigato.
What I didn't know about disciplines like Judo is that you have to follow a strict protocol. You have to dress in a particular way, show up early, avoid talking out of place. You can't wear socks and you can't (or try not to) sit cross-legged or against a wall when you're not doing an exercise. So, we all went through the same motions, from the most advanced to the newest. We all did the same sequences, focusing on breath and slow movement, rather than practice rounds. They teamed me up with different people, and everyone was incredibly patient. The fact that each movement had to be repeated several times to move to the next made it rather easy for me to follow. I felt strange grasping at other people's clothes, embracing, holding hands with them. There was contact, but it was slight and calculated.
After about an hour of work, I was exhausted. The senseis allowed the most advanced students to try out some of the more advanced techniques. I was unsure as to what was going to happen, but they made me sit on the perimeter of the tatami. The oldest sensei said I could just sit and watch for my first class while the rest practiced for a little while longer. My legs were sore from all the falling and picking myself up.
Everyone wore a kimono with different colored belts. The kimonos were of a hard, towel like cotton fabric, all perfectly white. Two people were called: one blue belt man in his mid-thirties, and one green-belt girl, who was slightly younger than me. She looked deadly. She was tall and broad, very lean, with big brown eyes that looked at you like a predator. Her hair was up in a bun, almost too high up her head, but arranged very neatly even after all the work. He on the other hand felt much more approachable. He wore a red t-shirt under his kimono, possibly a band t-shirt, and he had his hair cut in a sort of messy mohawk. His eyes were blue, very blue, and he even smiled kindly at the other girl, who in turn, only vowed.
They started fighting. Well, I don't know if fighting is the correct word, more like demonstrating. She was fierce, but he was faster. I could see that her frustration would sometimes get the best of her, though she didn't say a word or show anything other than one or two extra blinks. The senseis very patiently corrected form, approach and grasp. They tried the same sequences a couple of times. She never said a single word, only nodded shortly. She looked like a warrior, like a robot; a carefully calculated killing machine, who could sense each of the small body twitches and with every round, got faster and deadlier. Her opponent didn't really mind the fact that she was learning how to beat him, actually, he seemed to enjoy and encourage it.
After the class was over, I learnt the green belt girl was actually practicing for her blue belt exam. When we all stepped out of the dojo, all seven of us, the senseis introduced me to the group. Then they addressed her separately and discussed examination dates, possible improvements, additional training timetables. I listened from afar while I put on my shoes. She had let her hair down. It was very long, down to her hips, unruly and dark. She was sweaty and red after all the effort, but she didn't seem disturbed by it. I figured she was no older than eighteen: while her height and demeanor made her look older, you could see in her round cheeks and soft features that she was still a teenager. I wondered if she was still in school, in college, or somewhere in between. I had a lot of questions, but I was too afraid to approach her.
I thought about her all afternoon. When did she start training? What did she do when she wasn't training? I told Lydia about her. She thought maybe she came from a disciplined family. Maybe she was Russian, she said. So I asked Simon, and he said that she was probably not Russian but maybe thinking about joning the army or something. Simon was surprised about the question: I think he saw in my face the mix of fear and adoration.
"Do you have a crush?" he said jokingly.
"No," I replied. "Can't I just be interested in a person?"
Two days went by before I got back. This time I was there early and while I didn't have a kimono, I had tried to source the most appropriate clothes for the class so I didn't stand out so much. I had bought white cotton pants and a white t-shirt, that seemed appropriate enough. I didn't have time to change between work and the class so I went straight to the changing rooms.
She was there, not fully dressed. She was in her kimono pants and wearing a tight fitting white ribbed t-shirt, similar to what boxers wore. I could see her abs through the shirt, like tiny mountains, while she was hunched over her phone. She looked concerned.
I sat on the same bench, close but not too close. She glanced at me but said nothing.
"Hi," I said. "Do you mind?"
Her frown vanished and her expression relaxed. "Oh, not at all, please," she beckoned while pushing her gigantic duffel bag aside. "You're the new girl, right?"
I nodded, she smiled. "Good to know you came back. Most people never make it past the first class." she added. I felt very proud of myself for getting that recognition and made a mental note that I could not leave Judo, ever. I had gotten approval from the mother leper.
She didn't tell me her name, and people didn't call her by her name, either. They called her something like Main, or Maine, or "Em". I thought maybe it was Emily, or Marie, or Marnie, but no: she had a monogrammed necessaire with the letters MCK. I didn't ask, I just did what everyone else did and caller her Em. She didn't seem to mind.
We talked a little. I asked how old she was and how long she had been practicing. She said she was nineteen, and had been practicing for six years. She was close to her blue belt, but had had some difficulties throughout the past years that made her lose some months in training. Apparently, that is not particularly welcomed by the older senseis who act as examiners, so she was mildy "punished" by not being able to take her trials until she completed a full year of uninterrupted practice.
"I'm not complaining," she said. "I can prove myself. I like to do hard things."
For a nineteen year old, she showed more discipline than me. Behind her severe face, she was kind and deferential. During practice she partnered up with me twice and very patiently explained the movements with the bōken. She allowed me to make mistakes and focused on improving my form. She celebrated with a small vow of her head. Her enormous bun bounced slightly with the shake of the head.
That day we were the only two women at the dojo. She again practiced with her blue belt partner Ivan, while the rest of us sat and watched in delight. We had a slight teaching session where the youngest sensei, Ryan, showed some of the techniques and the older sensei Fred directed. It was more interesting to watch than to do, though at the same time, I wished it was me against her. I dreamed of being up to her level.
For days on end I couldn't stop thinking about her. I actually thought Simon was right and I had a crush, but no, it was more than that. I wanted to be like her. Strong, determined, put together. What I didn't know, or maybe I tried to ignore, was the fact that just as every other woman I admire, she had probably suffered a great deal to get to where she was.
After practice, she disappeared. I stayed over chatting with the rest of our classmates. Everyone was young, between the ages of fourteen and twenty-three, except for Ivan who was thirty-four. Everyone was nice, but for some reason especially shy, and then conversation would not flow. I never considered myself shy, but I didn't feel like participating in conversation without her present.
I didn't realize she was back at the showers. I was back at the bench in the locker room when I heard her voice on the phone coming from another room, echoing against the damp tiles.
"Where are you going?” she said. I couldn't hear the voice on the other end of the line. “Are we in trouble?” she asked, and waited for a response. She said something else that I couldn't hear while she turned on the tap. “Do you want me to pick you up?” she finally said, with a hint of pleading lingering in her voice. The call ended soon after, it seemed, because there was silence after that. I heard her shower, water splashing and moving inside her cubicle on the other side of the drywall. I changed slowly, hoping to cross paths again. I checked my phone and found I had two missed calls from Coxy.
I messaged him, and he replied almost instantly. He was asking me out –blatantly, with not a single ounce of embarrassement– I was shocked, and at the same time, flattered. I didn't know what to say, so I didn't reply instantly. I looked at the message on the screen for a few minutes before replying. That's when I heard her splashing back into the room.
"Hey," she said, now in her underwear, shaking her long hair dry. "You're still here?"
"Sorry yeah. I'll leave you alone."
"No worries," she said. "There are usually no other girls around."
So I just sat there. She untangled her hair with a wide tooth comb and put on a pair of black shorts and a black t-shirt. Her legs were incredibly toned.
"Do you only practice Judo?" I said aloud, in disbelief, still fixated on her legs. While shaking her head downwards to release the clumps of her wet hair, she laughed.
"No. I strength train six times a week. I run every day. I practice Judo three times a week now. I used to do two. But I've got more time in my hands now that it's the summer so I'm taking advantage to get my blue belt. I'll probably won't have this much time in a few months."
"Yeah, I'm sure classes can be a pain with all the training," I said. "What are you majoring in?"
"Oh, I–" she said, and paused while tying her shoes. "I'm… still in high school. I'm a senior, but… I fell behind a few years."
"Sorry to hear that," I said, now embarrassed. I had completely forgotten about Coxy. "Do you want to go to college when you're done?" I then realized it was the stupidest question ever.
"Yeah, maybe." I was hoping she'd say she'd join the army, like Simon predicted. But she didn't. "I gotta figure it out first. What do you do?"
"I'm a college dropout," I added with a smile, as if that was something to be proud of. "I moved here a few months ago. I work with some friends over at a tech startup downtown." It was oversimplified, but it worked. She sat down on the bench to patiently fold away her kimono next to me. I felt like she was a cat that was slowly taking to a new human.
I looked back at my phone screen. Coxy had sent a follow up text to the first, just a "?". Too overtly confident, I felt. I disliked that.
"I'll see ya," she said, while I was still on my bench with my unanswered text. "Next week?"
I nodded. I looked back at my screen, and only texted back "ok". I grabbed my stuff and followed behind her.
"This might sound weird," I said when I caught up to her in the hallway, as she turned around. "would you maybe want to grab coffee someday?"
She didn't stop walking, just looked ahead and nodded slightly. "Yeah, yeah, why not?"
"Cool. I can text you." I said.
"No, I'll text you," she counteroffered, and then stopped walking. She took out her phone from the pocket of her hoodie. "You can write it here."
I wrote Sam and my number. She looked at her screen. I found it weird that she had done that, so blatantly, but then I realized: she didn't know my name. This was a surefire way to find out.
"Alright Sam," she said, now more confident. "I'll talk to you soon." and continued walking.
That night I met up with Coxy without August knowing. I must admit it was hard to sneak out. I wasn't particularly interested in getting into this date. My mind was somewhere else. It had been so very blatant and unexpected: he'd not come up to me and talk, he'd pretended nothing was happening throughout the rest of the week. He'd clearly been planning to ask me out, and yet didn't even show signs of it.
He was waiting for me in his car, wearing a leather jacket and a shirt that was open up to his belly button. I could see his tattoos. I thought it was a little too much, but still kind of hot. He was wearing yellow tinted sunglasses again, though it was already night time. I wondered why he always felt the need to be such an attention seeker. I don't know why I was suddenly so repulsed by him.
We talked a little and I started feeling mildly better about my choices. Em hadn't texted me yet, and I was worried. Less than two days had gone by, but I was expecting something. I only had a few days until the next class. Would it be weird to see her if she hadn't texted me? I wondered what she was up to. Was she training? Was she seeing someone?
I think it showed. Coxy asked me if I was okay.
"I am," I said, dismissive. "I have just… have you ever met someone that intrigues you so badly you can't stop thinking about them?" he raised his eyebrows and chuckled. "But not in that way. Like, in a mysterious, in a captivating way."
"Like a crush?"
"I do not have a crush," I stated, flustered. "I only feel like this person has piqued my interest."
"Then like how?" he asked, now less offended.
"I don't know," I sighed. "She's so… elusive, but her presence is commanding. Like, she could lead an army but she chooses to sit at the back row of the cinema and take a nap. I look at her and I just feel like she's all the people I want to be but I am not."
Coxy took a sip of his bourbon (yes, he was drinking bourbon) and nodded. "I used to feel that way about Simon." he admitted.
I laughed. I could see that. I could see Simon was just as captivating, but the thing about Simon is that I had gotten to know him so well. When I first met him, he was striking. But the thing about Simon is that he is true. What he is, whatever the hell he is, he is completely. Unlike Em, who was clearly hiding something, but I didn't know what. Or why. Or if I would ever be able to find out.
The night progressed and I slowly forgot about her. It wasn't a conscious effort. Coxy and I did have fun, ordinary and expected fun. He took me out for dinner at a fancy restaurant he liked but then he took me to a skating rink, to balance things out. We were drunk most of the night, especially me, drunk on wine and spirits. We kissed, though I think it wouldn't happen. We kissed a lot and frequently and he let me ran my hand through the opening of his shirt. He was a great kisser, of course, better than I anticipated. I hadn't kissed a boy in years and this was taking a lot of mental space. We sat in his car, touching and learning, foregoing and understanding each other. I was aroused, I have to admit, but I wasn't particularly interested in having sex with him. At least, not right away. He was always too beautiful, too magnificent, that I sometimes felt like he was above something like that. Of course, that wasn't true, but I just wanted to admire him more than I wanted to have him.
So he took me back home. I rolled down the window and the breeze was hot. I hadn't noticed how hot and humid the night had become. The buildings went by and I confused the lights of the street with the stars. It all seemed to blend into one.
I got back to the apartment and August wasn't up. I went into my room and I touched myself thinking about August. I thought about him and Em having sex. I thought about him and me. I thought about Coxy and me and it broke my concentration, so I went back to August but I fell asleep before getting anywhere. I woke up with my pants down the next morning and I felt like an idiot.
August was drinking his usual coffee reading his usual books, but this time he was in the kitchen. The shame I was carrying from being drunk and now openly admitting to myself I had a crush on him felt belittling. He didn't look at me in the eye but did pour me a cup and handed me glass with an alka-seltzer already fizzing in. My heart seemed to sink into my chest.
"Do you think Simon is captivating?" I asked, to break his concentration.
"I think he's cute," he said, without taking his eyes of the book. "Why?"
"Have you ever met someone that intrigues you so badly you can't stop thinking about them?" I asked.
"Yeah but not Simon, for God's sakes," he said, now sitting up straight in his chair and sipping from his coffee. He took of his glasses and left them on the table while he ran his hands through his face. "I had this professor, he was an engineer. His name was Bruce Kacysznki. He was this Polish man, very short, very stout, but still had this bubbly demeanor that made you question him so much. Like, he was a small grandma trapped in the body of someone resembling a KGB officer. He was brilliant, insanely kind, but, you know, he couldn've built an atomic bomb if he had the right resources."
I nodded my head in interest, but didn't answer. He kept thinking about his professor.
"He killed himself," he added, sipping again. "Not a day goes by that I don't think about him."
"Do you know why?"
"Not really. Rumour has it he really was a spy."
My partial conclusion was that in order to be captivating, there had to be some sort of mystery around you. Or maybe something slightly hidden, something you couldn't yet grasp, that clashed with the way you looked. So that the observer could both project and learn from you at the same time.
Three days went by, and she didn't text me. So instead, I texted Coxy and asked if he wanted to have dinner. To my surprise, he said yes very fast. I was up in his house and making out on his couch in no time.
I was slightly more attracted to him when I showed up to his place and he opened the door wearing a t-shirt and a pair of basketball shorts. He didn't look polished, his stance wasn't as performative, and his sense of awareness was compromised. I was in his house after all, and I could see every single speck of dust and chipping paint on the ceilings. It wasn't particularly disorganized, I would even say it was better than Simon's, but it wasn't as elegant as he wanted it to be. There were no low lights, so we sat on the couch with the TV on and all the other lights off. I felt like those shorts fit him better than any other thing he'd ever worn. For some reason, I told him that.
"You look hot," I said. I felt like a man. "I like your shorts."
"Thank you" he replied earnestly, leaning in to kiss me. We had barely talked, between the first date and the new date, and now we were talking even less. I wondered why he was attracted to me in the first place: was I just as captivating as Em was to me?
I asked.
"I don't…" he stopped, flustered. "I don't think you're captivating per se, I think you're interesting. Is that enough? Or is it the wrong answer?"
"No, that's fine, I just…" I thought about my words for a minute. "I don't understand what a guy like you sees in someone like me."
"Like you what?"
"I don't know, I'm an average person. You're hot, successful, you're in a band, the whole shebang. And I'm… me."
"Don't overthink it," he said. "I want you. That's all I know."
I nodded.
We had sex on the couch. It was good albeit unremarkable. The couch had this faux leather feel which felt sticky against my skin and it made it very hard to move around without clothes. The TV was on the whole time, and it distracted me. I constantly switched back and forth in my thoughts between what was happening and where I wanted to be. After a while, I got in the groove, and I think I might have enjoyed it.
I checked my phone after a few hours and I found Em had actually texted me. It was now closer to 10 P.M., a little late to reply. She was asking if I was down for lunch the next day. I said yes of course! which sounded too eager, but I didn't care. Did I have a crush? Maybe. I'd never kissed a girl.
I think Em knew I had a crush. She didn't look particularly heterosexual. I wasn't sure if I could pinpoint her sexuality but it was clear she wasn't oblivious to experimentation. There was something about her pose and demeanor that showed she'd lived more than the rest of us. She sipped on her lemonade slowly, sitting all the way back in her chair, basking in the midday sun. The skin on her chest glistened.
"Where did you go to school?" she asked, suddenly. I moved the food around in my plate with my fork.
"Oh, just out east," I said with no precise location. "I'm from a small town a few miles away from here." She acknowledged, but didn't ask any follow up questions. "How about you?"
"I'm from here," she explained. "but I go to school downtown. That's why I go to your gym. I don't know what I'm gonna do next year when I graduate."
"Do you have any plans?"
"Yeah, well, I thought about majoring in something related to… science," she said. "I think I might fuck around in college and find out what I want to do."
"Sounds like a plan."
"Do what do you do? Again?"
"I…" I couldn't begin to explain. "I work for a company that does telecommunications. I'm just a secretary to one of the cheifs. He's a friend of mine and he gave me this job. They build light tech solutions of remote areas. And other things, too. I just go to meetings and take notes."
"Cool," she said, and I smiled. "What kind of tech?"
"Like remote networking, peer-to-peer communications," I realized I might had said too much when she shifted forward. "it allows people to communicate in areas with less satellite coverage, or when telecommunidations are down."
"That sounds… useful," she added with a smile. "So your boss is an engineer, no?"
"He's… I don't know." I said, honestly. "He does cybersecurity."
"That's cool," she added, now more certain. "My mom does cybersecurity as well. She works for a Pharma company out in Los Angeles."
So now I knew one more thing about her. I thought about introducing her to Simon, I thought they would get along. She felt like a female version of his, though a little less… nice. We talked a bit more, now engaged in conversation, about her mother, her step father, and her friends. She had a tight group of three friends from school, and another friend who had recently moved to another city. She didn't say which, but by the tone of her voice, I could guess she didn't know where he'd gone to.
She was more engaged when we switched topics to things like books and music. She knew a lot about music, and she was interested to hear my book recommendations. While we didn't have exactly a similar taste, some of the titles I suggested seemed to be up her alley. I felt like we were in a good place after some time, now easing into the conversation. Maybe I would find out her name, after all.
That's when her phone rang. She looked concerned. She picked up right there, and did not conceal the conversation.
"Hi, yes, this is she," she said. "what? Again? Okay, fine. No, thank you. I'll check later."
She disconnected the call, obfuscated. Clearly she didn't get the news she was hoping for, but I didn't ask.
"That's my therapist's secretary," she said. "She's been cancelling on me all month." She made silence, leaned back, and closed her eyes against the burning mid-day sun. She took deep breaths. The muscles in her belly contracted and expanded with patience. I didn't say anything. I finished my meal, which was now lukewarm and rather disgusting, but I had to fill the silence with something.
"Can I ask you with something random?" she said, with her eyes still closed.
"Yeah," I added with my mouth full. "What's up?"
"Would you date a man that's quite a few years older than you?"
"Um, yeah, depends on the man and the age," I said, without second thought. "Like, right now I'm seeing a guy who's thirty one. But I'm twenty two. I dont' think that's too bad."
"No, no," she shook her head with her eyes still closed. "I mean much older than that."
"Oh… then it'd probably depend. Why?"
"I don't know," she opened her eyes and abruptly jumped from her seat. "I gotta think about stuff. Hey, I have to bail. I have somewhere to be. I really enjoyed this and we should do it again," she added, fishing out money from her wallet. "Keep the change. I'll see you next week, okay?"
She walked away without a word more. I don't know what possessed me, but I quicky rummaged around for the rest of the money and proceeded to leave behind her. I didn't know if she was on foot or if she had brought her car, but I decided to follow her anyway. I tried to put into practice all the little tricks Daisy had taught me about following people. She walked away swaying her hair behind her, again on her phone.
I couldn't hear what she was saying, but she was gesticulating widly. She crossed the street without looking and the cars honked at her. She paid no mind to anything in her way, not even me following behind. She continued to walk, and walked for quite some time, until she got to a bus stop. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't take the same bus, it would be too obvious. She had her headphones on, so she couldn't listen.
I called Lydia. I asked her to quickly search on the computer where the bus lead to. She did as requested without any questions. I waited around the corner for the bus to show, and when it did, I stopped the next cab behind it.
"Follow the bus," I said, and the cab driver was just excited to do it as I was.
The ride didn't take long. The cab driver didn't let me pay because he was having fun. We waited in the car for a few minutes until she could no longer see me. She stopped at the door of a very old building, and went inside.
The cab left me there, behind a large garbage can, while I waited. I didn't know what I was expecting, so I waited for a few minutes before I went up to the front door.
I could see a long hallway behind the glass, dark and menacing. I couldn't see where it ended. I looked at the intercom. I didn't notice any names out of the ordinary except for "Melina Nehls, MD". She was on the fourth floor. I debated whether to ring or to just open the door, so I went ahead and pushed the glass pane slightly.
There was nobody there to greet me, nobody to tell me where to go or where not to go. The hallway was cool and silent. I walked across, with the clicking of my flats following closely behind me. There was an internal patio with lush greenery. It all looked expensive and outdated, and smelled like an old building made of stone, steel and wood.
I heard the elevator come down, and I knew I had to hide. I hid behind the stairwell, where I couldn't see the person coming out the elevator, but they wouldn't be able to see me, either. I heard the door open and close, but I didn't hear footsteps. I waited a couple of minutes before coming out, until I was sure I couldn't hear any noises.
Of course Em was there. She was waiting for me with her arms crossed over her chest and an annoyed expression. I was startled, of course, but I was more so ashamed of what I had done.
"Sorry," I could only say, while she took me by the hand and led me outside. "Sorry!"
She pushed me back outside where the sun blinded me out on the street. The cars honked and rushed by. I didn't really know where I was.
"What's wrong with you?" she said.
"So much I can't even begin to explain," I said, looking for my sunglasses in my bag. "I'm sorry. I was curious. But this was wrong and I won't do it again."
She murmured it's fine and then let go of my hand. I began walking away when she joined me. We didn't talk, and just walked. I was hoping to find the next train station to get back home. I don't know where she expected to go.
"Where are you going?" I asked. She shrugged.
"I have the right to follow you now." I was rather freaked by that response. But for some reason, I continued home.
She took the train with me and we sat side by side in silence. The train wooshed by, shook with every twist and turn. It was hot inside the train and on the platform. We switched trains for two more stations. When we were about five minutes away from home, I stopped.
"You can't come home with me," I stated. "You must leave now."
"Why?" she asked, clearly pulling my hair.
"I live with more people and I can't bring strangers into the house" I felt like a petulent child after that statement, but it was kind of the truth. I wanted to get rid of her. She smiled, then pulled out her iPod and her headphones.
"Then I'll see you," she said. "Next Tuesday?" I nodded. She put her headphones on and walked away.
I had to tell August about it, there was simply no other way. I still couldn't understand why I felt so compelled to follow her, and why she reacted the way she did. I explained it all, every single detail to him; gesticulating wildly and screaming while pacing around his bedroom, and he only laughed. He listened to me and nodded, without interrupting. When I got to the end of the story, I sat on his bed, exhausted.
"She is very clearly hiding something. I'd be careful," he said, taking of his glasses. He looked so young. "What did you say her name was?"
"No idea. That is so infuriating."
"You don't know her name? You didn't ask?"
"Well nobody calls her by her name, they call her "Em" but that's not her name. She's not an Emily. She didn't even let me get her phone number. She texted me, she didn't let me text her. You see?"
"There's something in her name that she's trying to hide. You must figure it out."
I paused. "Is it wrong if I just don't want to know?"