Vicki Essex - Her Son's Hero

The karate master grinned at them now, hands clasped together. “Dom would like to see you,” he said after he’d introduced himself. “Please, come in.”

“We really shouldn’t. Sean has a doctor’s appointment in about fifteen minutes….”

“Just a quick visit?” Mako suggested.

“Please, Mom? Can we?”

She stared down at her son and gave in.

Stepping past the threshold, Sean removed his shoes. “You have to do that, Mom,” he insisted. “It’s not polite to wear your shoes inside.”

“Well, that, and it gets the mats muddy,” Mako said. “You know something about dojos, then?”

“Just what I read in manga and on the net.”

Mako chuckled. “I never thought I’d see the day when Japanese comics would be a big thing with kids in America, especially in a town as small as this.”

Fiona was impressed by what her son had learned. It shouldn’t have surprised her, though; he was a gifted child. She just hoped he wasn’t getting any crazy ideas that he could do any of the things the characters in the comic books could. Like helicopter-kicking a bad guy, or upper-cutting them into the sky.

Don’t be ridiculous. Sean was smarter than that. Fiona had grown up with the likes of Bugs Bunny and Daffy Duck, and she’d turned out fine…. Though admittedly, dropping an anvil on her ex-husband’s head would have a certain appeal.

Dom slung a towel over his shoulders as he approached. “Hi, Sean, Fiona. How are you two doing?”

Fiona felt a tingle all the way to her toes. When had a man’s sweat become an aphrodisiac?

“Great,” Sean chirped. “What were you doing just then? Was that a kata?”

“Just a training exercise to focus my coordination.”

“It looked really cool. What else can you do?”

“Well…”

“Can you do spinning roundhouse kicks? Or flips? I’ve been looking stuff up on the internet that I want to learn.”

Dom glanced at Fiona. “Oh, so you told him?”

Uh-oh.

“Told me what?” Sean looked from one adult to the other.

Before Fiona could find the right words, Dom said, “I talked to your mom about you coming to the dojo on Saturdays while she’s at work. I’ve already cleared it with Sensei Miwa.”

Sean’s mouth dropped open.

“Not that I consider myself a babysitter of any kind.” Mako crossed his arms over his chest. “The dojo is a place of serious business and study. I would require your son to participate in lessons and chores, as all the other students do. He’d have to help keep the dojo clean and raise funds for its upkeep. Most important, he’d have to learn to respect his elders and his fellow students, and uphold the teachings of karate-do and martial arts.”

The gravity of his words settled over Fiona’s shoulders like a mantle. She felt trapped, caught between two adults and her son, who seemed to like the prospect of doing chores in some smelly gym. She grasped for her only real excuse. “I don’t think I can afford it right now—”

“You can take it out of the college fund Grandma and Grandpa set up for me,” Sean volunteered eagerly. “That’s what it’s for, right? Learning? I could learn stuff here!”

Fiona closed her eyes. She wished Sean hadn’t mentioned his well-padded trust fund. The money would have gone a long way to helping her make ends meet, but she’d refused to rely on her parents for anything. They’d sided with Mitch when he’d been hauled off to jail, and had berated her for not standing up for her husband, despite everything he’d put his family through.

She hadn’t seen her parents since she and Sean had moved from New Hampshire, and they hadn’t tried to contact her, either, not even to talk to their grandson. The only things still connecting them was that big chunk of money. It would be used when Sean did eventually go to college, but until then, Fiona was adamant about supporting him on her own.

“I really can’t talk about this right now,” she said, glancing at her watch pointedly. “Sean’s doctor’s appointment…”

“Of course.” Dom nodded. “Just promise me you’ll talk things over with Sean before you make any decisions.”

She shot him a look. What kind of person did he think she was?

In the waiting room at the doctor’s, Sean pleaded with her to let him take karate lessons. It quickly degraded into an argument that pingponged between petulant cries of “Please, Mom,” and her deadpanned “I’ll think about it.”

The battle continued on the drive home. But when he couldn’t get her to say yes, Sean stomped up to his room.

She was trying hard to see Dom’s side of things, she really was. Sean could use every ounce of self-esteem he could get. But what if he learned the wrong lessons from these martial arts classes? She thought about Dom driving those powerful fists into the leather punching bag, his furious concentration—and all she could think of was Mitch punching yet another hole in the drywall, or smashing another plate on the floor and muttering how one day it would be her face.

Fiona shuddered. If she allowed Sean, whose temper sometimes flared like his father’s, to learn these deadly skills… What if he used his karate moves on someone and that person got hurt?

There was another reason she didn’t want Sean going to the dojo. Dominic Payette was very much the kind of man Fiona used to have a thing for, the charming bad boy who could have her at his feet with a mere smile and a crook of his finger. Just as Mitch had done.

She couldn’t deny the fighter’s magnetic attraction. Leaving her son in Dom’s care would force her to be in regular contact with him. And she could already feel her defenses lowering around him.

Fundamentally, she simply could not accept Dom as an appropriate role model for Sean. He beat people up for a living. There was nothing about that she could respect.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a loud thumping noise followed by a crash. She pounded up the stairs.

“Sean, are you okay?” She burst into his room and stared at the carnage.

A shelf she’d put up above the bed hung loosely from one bracket. Books and knickknacks were scattered everywhere, and the ceramic Winnie the Pooh reading lamp Sean had owned since he was a baby had been smashed to bits. Her son stood wide-eyed on the bed.

“I didn’t do it!”

Then Fiona saw the video clip playing on Sean’s computer. In it, a man in a gi performed a high kick, breaking a wood board with his shin. The title of the video: How To Do a Roundhouse Kick.

Sean was smart. He had the internet, and even if she cut that off, she knew he’d just go to the library. He would learn whatever he wanted in whatever way he could, and there was no way to stop him short of tying him to the bed.

So she had a choice: he could learn martial arts from a master in a controlled environment, or he could teach himself until he broke something else. Like his neck.

Fiona sagged in defeat.

Dom had won this round.

“DON’T DO ANYTHING you’re not comfortable doing,” Fiona told her eager son as she walked him to the dojo the following Saturday. She’d had about three dozen misgivings since she’d informed Dom she would take him up on his offer. But she couldn’t change her mind now. No one was available to babysit. Sean had nowhere else to go. “And don’t be surprised if you don’t get things right away. Karate’s hard.”

“I know that, Mom.” He rolled his eyes.

“Be respectful toward Mr. Miwa, you hear? He’s allowing you to go to these classes and stay at the dojo all day for next to nothing, so if he asks you to help clean up or tells you to sit and be quiet, you do it.” She amended quickly, “But don’t do anything that feels wrong.”