Chapter Twenty-Seven

Ethan

WATCHING JUSTIN DRIVE away was sobering and scary, like an open invitation for all of Ethan's insecurities and fears to flood back in. His mom was here, and for that, he was grateful. But at the same time, Ethan didn't want to call it a need to grow up, as much as he wanted to continue on his path of healing and make real progress in this new place and life. While he often got frustrated with his counselor, after a few days of thinking about her suggestions, he'd begin to see things in a clearer light.

She'd won the codependency argument. Ethan had found a group online that ran together three days a week. He had a meeting scheduled with the coach of the local beer league, though they didn't call it that here—the "adult league"—and he'd have to try out for the team as expected. The coach had agreed to a meeting and the possibility of making Ethan an alternate since the team had already had tryouts for their current season. So that was on the schedule, along with a plan to meet up with the running group after his mom left.

Ethan pressed the garage door button and waited as it closed. Inside, he found his mom in the kitchen, sorting through the pod options at the coffee maker.

"You and Dad need to get one of those," Ethan said.

"Maybe for our anniversary," she agreed. "Are you okay?"

"Yeah, no . It's going to be hard with him gone. But I'm determined to find things that interest me like my therapist said."

"What does Justin think?"

"You know him; it's whatever I want." Ethan turned the coffee carousel and plucked out the pod he wanted. "But the therapist is always bitching at me about my happiness and not being dependent on Justin."

"Well, listen to her, talk to Justin, and make the decisions that are best for you. There's no ticking clock, Ethan."

"Thanks, Mom," Ethan said as she reached over and ran a hand over his hair.

"You need a haircut."

" Mom ."

"Fine, so what's your plan?"

"I'm looking into a few things. I just want to get the house in order and finish the painting." Ethan sighed. "I want to rest."

"You haven't really done that."

"No, but I also see her point. I could see myself holing up here and never getting out very easily, and I know that isn't healthy. I didn't do that before, and I'm not sure why I'm doing it now. So, hockey, a running group, this house, maybe write a few freelance articles and send them off, see what happens."

"And school? You are so close to finishing your degree, honey." She took her cup and headed for the counter.

Ethan popped his pod in and retrieved his mug from the cabinet. He leaned against the counter as the machine brewed. "I am going to finish. I just want to slow down for a minute, you know?"

"I do."

"She said I need to make my own friends," Ethan muttered, glancing out at the pool.

"You don't have to only make friends at school or at a job. You could meet new people if you did some volunteer work until you make some decisions. You used to enjoy that and made friends doing that in high school."

"I did. I haven't thought about that in a long time." Ethan took his mug and sat beside his mom at what he and Justin called their breakfast bar.

"Surely, there's something to save in Florida," she teased.

Ethan nodded. "There has to be. I want a dog, so maybe I'll look and see if there's an animal shelter nearby."

"You'll end up with more than one if you do that," she chided sweetly.

"I totally would, wouldn't I?"

She smiled knowingly, and together, they drank their morning coffee quietly. It was something he appreciated about his mother, her calmness. Growing up, his mother was always there for him. Every single ass-early-six a.m. hockey practice, every cross-country meet. If Ethan mentioned an interest in something, she packed them up in the car, and Ethan would find himself at a museum or at a state park learning about some endangered animal. She'd even taken him to a few concerts over the years, when she wasn't a fan of the music.

"You're doing some pretty heavy thinking over there," she said. "What do you think about us finding a grocery store you like and figuring out where your bank is. Then, let's explore all the local spots you might want to check out. I did see a cute little bookstore on my way here. Let's look at what's going on around town. There must be a website with local events and venues."

Ethan retrieved his tablet, resumed his morning coffee, and scrolled. "Migratory bird garden tour, there's the Cedar Key lighthouse, and there's a sidewalk arts festival we could do." He glanced at her, knowing it would pique her interest as it had his own.

"Yes!"

Ethan grinned. He polished off the rest of his coffee and went to get dressed. Spending the day with his mom doing the things they used to do together before he left for college seemed like a great way to ensure he got out of the house and did something fun. Plus, spending time with her was always a win.

"This is pretty fancy," she said from the passenger seat of his new car.

"It has way too many buttons, but Justin said it had a good safety rating, all the airbags a car could possibly have," Ethan explained as he backed out of the garage. "He wanted to buy me this huge SUV that looked like a tank, Mom."

"That's sweet, but I'm glad he went with this. It's more you ."

"He did good. You should have seen him when he drove it home trying to surprise me; he could barely fit in it."

His mom laughed as she scooted the seat up closer. "I'm guessing he was in this seat last?"

"Yeah. GPS me, and let's find the bank first."

They spent the morning at the bank branch he'd use, then stopped by two local grocery stores and one merchandise store. They'd decided on the grocer closest to the house since it had the better produce section. His mom pointed out an oil change shop, and Ethan did a double take.

"What?"

"You honestly think he's going to let me take my car in for an oil change? God, he really is overprotective, isn't he?"

"A bit, but between you and me, I think it's nice. I see how you fuss over him though."

Ethan knew he did and couldn't find fault in the way they took care of each other. He pulled into a parking space along the street, and he and his mom eagerly assessed the sidewalks filled with artists and vendors. They looked at each other with giddy excitement, then raced each other to get out of the car.

"Oh my God, Mom , do you smell it?" Ethan said and inhaled deeply.

"Funnel cakes. We're doomed from the start."

"We so are."

Ethan sent Justin funny pictures throughout the day, knowing he wouldn't get them until much later. He and his mom had a great day. He only bought a few things, and they'd had more fun spending time together than anything else.

As she took an afternoon nap, Ethan was back to flipping through the two college packets and still debating what he wanted to do. Part of him wanted to retreat and stick with the safe online program he could do from home. The other part of him wanted to finish his last year in person and then seriously consider graduate school.

"I'm still scared." Ethan knew this about himself and hated how it controlled his life. He picked up his tablet, an idea striking him that he'd considered before but had put off because he'd been too weak throughout his recovery.

I'm not weak anymore.

He found two places offering what he needed. One had a group class, and the other also offered personal training. Ethan chewed on his bottom lip and tried to imagine what a self-defense class would look like, how it could help him with the kind of situation he wanted to ensure never happened to him again. He dialed the number for the private trainer, expecting to leave a message.

"Danny's," a girl said.

"Hi. I'm calling about the personal trainer for the self-defense lessons."

"Danny does those personally. Hang on. He's just finishing up with a client."

Ethan waited as hold music played, and then a gruff voice came on the line.

"This is Danny. Reagan said you were interested in self-defense training?"

"Yeah, I've never taken a class or anything, so I'm not sure what the process is," Ethan said, already feeling the anxiety creeping in.

"Well, the first session is free. You come in, and we chat a bit about what you want to accomplish and what your goals are, and then we practice a few methods. You can see if that's something you'd like to continue, or if you aren't ready, take some time to think about it. Zero commitment and no pressure. If you'd be interested in that, I have a slot at four, and we do offer a group class at six. Some clients do one or the other, some do both."

Ethan glanced at the clock. It was three, and the place was literally down the street.

"Okay, I can come in at four," he said and gave his name and phone number.

"See you in a few." And Danny ended the call.

Ethan swallowed, but the thought that he could walk away if it was too much got him up and heading for the bedroom to change into gym clothes. He left a note on the counter for his mom explaining he was going to the gym and would either be back in an hour or around seven, depending on if he stayed for a group class at six. Then, Ethan headed out, taking a brave first step he prayed wouldn't backfire on him.

*

DANNY'S DIDN'T LOOK like any gym Ethan had seen before, but he noted the Safe Space sticker on the door and several other advocacy indicators. It seemed he was in the right place so far, so he pushed the button on the door and waited.

"Hi, I'm Ethan Andrews." The door buzzer sounded, and Ethan entered.

"Hi, Ethan, I'm Reagan. Danny's expecting you." She pointed to an office at the back. "Just head on in. You'll have a consultation first. And here, he said you might also be interested in the group class tonight. Here's the schedule and phone tree for that class. They've only met once, so you haven't missed too much. Or, you can wait for the next session to start the first Tuesday of next month."

"Thanks." Ethan took the flyer. He followed her directions and headed to the office, a wall of windows, where a big dude sat behind a desk. Ethan was waved in as the man stood.

"You must be Ethan. I'm Danny Harkness. This is my place, have a seat. We can leave the door open or closed. It's up to you."

"Yeah, Ethan. Closed, I guess."

"Go ahead." Danny sat back down, not offering to shake Ethan's hand, which Ethan thought was odd, but he closed the door and took a seat.

"Let's dive right in," Danny said. "Ethan, what brings you to me?"

"I need self-defense classes or private instruction so I can defend myself?" Ethan said and knew it was so lame.

Danny nodded as if everyone before him had said this exact thing, and Ethan laughed once and then sighed.

"I'm a sexual assault and battery victim." And there . He'd said it. So succinctly and for the first time. Ethan swallowed hard.

"First time saying it?"

"Yeah."

"Feel like you want to get up and run out of here?"

"Yeah," Ethan said, throat tight.

"Don't." Danny rotated his chair and pointed to a photograph of a young girl, probably in her teens, on the wall. "My sister. She's why I do this. She was seventeen and was sexually assaulted at a party. At nineteen, my sister killed herself. We missed all the warning signs. So, I'd like to show you a few things, give you a tour around the facility, and see if we're a good fit for you and what you're hoping to learn."

"I don't ever want it to happen again," Ethan said robotically as he stared at the girl's photograph. "I'm tired of being scared to live."

"Tell me about your support system," Danny said.

"The best anyone could possibly have." Ethan looked at Danny now. "Great parents, a loving husband."

"Your attacker?"

"There were three. All of them are in prison. It happened…almost two years ago now." Ethan glanced at the photo again, doing the math and realizing the timeframe and what point he was at in his life, how crippling it could be and had been for the last two years even though he was happier than he'd ever been. It was still there. "I'm sorry about your sister."

"Thank you. Are you in counseling?" Danny asked.

"Regularly, and I take medication daily for depression and anxiety, PTSD episodes, flashbacks. But I've made a lot of progress in a short time. I kept busy with school, and now, I'm out of school because I relocated and…" Ethan stalled out.

"And it's all starting to catch up with you," Danny finished for him.

Ethan nodded.

"Do you have any injuries that would prevent you from this kind of training?"

"No, I'm pretty active. I run cross country and play amateur hockey. I'm cleared by my medical doctor for sports. That happened last year."

"Good. It seems like we might be a good fit for you, then. I do need to tell you we pride ourselves on being a safe space. We have a no-locked-doors policy, and our facility is under surveillance." Danny pointed to the corner at the camera and the windows indicating the gym area beyond. "We also have a no explanation policy. If you need to leave a session at any time, no one will ask you why or what's wrong with you. You just leave, and we ask that you also respect this code should someone from your group leave. And when they return, we ask no questions. We just dive back in with our training. This isn't therapy. It's self-defense. How does that sound?"

"Good, honestly. I don't want to talk about it."

"And neither do they. Is there anything else about you I need to know?"

Ethan nodded.

Danny waited.

"I have…scars. A lot of…scars. They cut me when I fought back."

They were quiet for a moment, and Ethan blinked a few times, then looked at Danny.

"What you're wearing is fine. Ready for the tour?"

"Sure," Ethan said, surprised by how to the point Danny was and appreciating that he didn't dwell or want to dig deeper.

Danny showed him the workout equipment, pretty standard gym stuff, and Ethan noticed the lack of mirrors, something most gyms had plenty of. He was shown a large group room with a thick spring floor, and the last room was smaller. It had the same style floor but was used for private instruction. Every room had windows and doorknobs with no locks, just as Danny had described. He followed Danny to the locker room.

"As with any gym locker room, there are no cameras in here." He pointed to a red button on the wall. "But there is a panic button. Back here, we have a sauna." Danny opened the door and indicated a red button there as well. Ethan followed him out to the private instruction room, and Danny asked him to stretch out as he also did.

"Today, we'll just focus on single attacker methods of defense, some tactics to buy time, get away, and stunning techniques. Sound good?"

"Yeah. Are there any men in the group class, or are they all women?"

"There are two males and six females. You are welcome to check it out tonight, and if you don't like it, you can leave or not return to the group. They got the same speech you did. All right, the first move I'll teach you is breaking a hold. I'll explain all the steps first."

Ethan listened and then agreed for Danny to put him in a hold. It was strange and uncomfortable, but Danny walked him through the steps with clear directions, and Ethan followed them, breaking the hold, stepping back, and then running across the room. They repeated it, and each time, Danny made it more challenging until Ethan was breathing hard, sweaty, and surprisingly gaining some confidence, wanting to master the skill.

"Good," Danny said. "You aren't going to hurt me. This isn't about hurt. This is about getting away."

"All right," Ethan said. "I'm ready. For real this time."

Danny didn't play, and Ethan respected it. The hold was tight, nearly suffocating, and instantly anxiety-producing.

"Don't panic. Breathe, remember the steps," Danny coached.

Ethan broke the hold, stumbled, and fell on the floor.

"Get up and run," Danny barked.

Ethan did and touched the wall, chills across his entire body as he leaned over, gasping for air.

"Again?"

Ethan nodded, pulled himself together, and crossed the room.

"Good," Danny said, and then his big arms were around Ethan again. This time, Ethan didn't panic when the grip tightened.

"Good work, Ethan. Do you want to stay for group?"

"Sure," Ethan said as Danny handed him a towel and water bottle. "What do I need to do to get signed up for both?"

"Just talk to Reagan. There are some forms to fill out. We have support day once a month."

"What's that?"

"The only time we allow guests to come." Danny pointed to a small three-row bleacher. "Your parents and your spouse are welcome to come on support day, but no other time. We want everyone to feel comfortable here, so we don't allow spectators except on support day."

" No , that's good," Ethan said. "I wouldn't want people watching until I learned more."

Danny nodded. "We encourage you to invite them when you're ready, and attendance on support day isn't mandatory if you aren't ready."

"Thank you," Ethan said and dumbly stuck out his hand.

Danny chuckled, and then, Ethan was staring at the ceiling, flat on his back.

" Never shake hands, Ethan. You give up your strong hand. You wouldn't hand over a gun or knife; don't hand over your only weapon to anyone."

"Point taken," Ethan said and pushed himself up.

"It's a hard habit to break," Danny said, extending his hand to help Ethan up.

"No fucking way," Ethan said through a laugh and got up on his own.

Danny grinned. "Good, you're a quick learner."

"How many people fail that one?" Ethan asked.

"Most of them."