Tell Me Again

Frankie

I thought Oscar and I had turned a corner and would be able to get along a little better after our past few encounters. That hasn’t happened, though. It feels like he’s been avoiding me for the past ten days, leaving me to assume he still hates me. Obviously, it was just me who was affected by our proximity when he came to my house.

Granted, aside from classes and my time at the clinic, I’ve basically been a shut-in.

Today, even Brad seemed to be going a little stir crazy, so I’ve decided to get him out for a proper walk. His outings have been limited to visits to the clinic, where I’d be willing to bet people are more excited to see him than if the real Brad Pitt walked in the door. He’s a neighbourhood celebrity, and everyone who knows him adores him… except for the person who is now walking our way. A confusing thorn in my side who makes grey sweatpants and a black beanie look ridiculously appealing.

I half expect Oscar to grumble and continue walking past without acknowledging me, but he surprises me once again by stopping.

“Frankie. Brad.” He looks down at my dog, but doesn’t give him any more attention beyond saying his name.

“Oscar.” The Grouch, I add silently. I want to hate him and take issue with everything he does again, but the reality is, his mere presence is making my stomach flutter.

We stand, facing each other, neither speaking for more seconds than what’s comfortable. I keep glancing down at Brad, just to focus my eyes on something less awkward than Oscar’s questioning gaze.

Finally, I ask, “Did you have classes early?”

“Work.”

“Oh. Who said being an adult was fun, huh?” I ask, hoping my tone hints that his one-word answers are getting old.

His lips form a tight smile, but he doesn’t respond otherwise.

For some unexplained reason, I turn around and start walking back toward home, making space for Oscar to fall in step beside me.

“Why muay thai? Do you compete? Like fights and whatever?”

“No.” He lifts his right hand and rubs the back of his neck.

Talking to him is more work than cleaning up from a parvovirus outbreak. “But what made you choose muay thai?”

I fully expect another one-word reply, but he explains, “When I was younger, I never sat still. I couldn’t focus in school and started getting into trouble because I was bored out of my mind. My parents put me in every sport you can imagine. Soccer, hockey, rugby, football, baseball, volleyball, snowboarding, golf. You name it, I tried it, but none of them helped. I was either overwhelmed or bored. No happy medium.”

“Because of your ADHD?”

He flashes me a sideways glance before returning his eyes to the sidewalk ahead. “Yeah. Sometimes, on top of everything going on in my head, a lot of chaos is overwhelming, so team sports never grew on me. That’s not to say other people with ADHD can’t do team sports, but I couldn’t deal. My grandfather kept telling my parents to put me in karate, but my mom was worried I’d start beating up my brother because he’s a sensitive guy.”

“Ethan, right? Hollis says he’s a bit of a hippie.”

Oscar laughs; his face lit up with a small, yet brilliant smile. “Yeah, he is. He’s the kind of guy who is happier in nature. He despises the city and anywhere with big crowds. Hates attention even more than I do.”

It never occurred to me that Oscar hated attention. Being friends with his three roommates, who all seem to thrive in the spotlight, I assumed he was the same way, but looking back at his behaviour during each of their parties, that makes more sense. I really did make snap judgments about him, and couldn’t have been more wrong.

“So your mom finally gave in and you started karate?”

“Yep. I did that for a few months, and it was the first individual sport that kept me focused. Soon enough, my coach moved me into kickboxing, so I could do most of my training with other equipment instead of having to wait around for anyone else. It went from there.”

“Makes sense. What made you transition to coaching? Is this a case of ‘those who can’t do, teach?’”

Now he gives me an intense glare, no longer paying attention to the snowy sidewalk. “I can do just fine. That’s not why I don’t fight.”

“Enlighten me, then.”

He releases a deep sigh. “Around the time I started karate, I found out that my aunt had been sexually assaulted before I was born. The guy got away with a slap on the wrist, but it almost ruined her life. To be honest, I wanted to pound the guy’s face in and make him pay, even as a kid, before I really understood what happened. My coach pulled me aside when I started and explained to me that wasn’t the right place to focus my energy. If I wanted to make a difference, use my skills someday to teach others how to defend themselves. So that’s what I do.”

My steps falter, listening to his impassioned speech. That’s actually… sweet. Not to mention, it makes sense why he was so willing to teach me.

“You should come to a class. Doesn’t have to be my class, but a push kick alone isn’t going to help much if… you know…” His words trail off as if he wants to say something else, but stops.

Now, in addition to the image of him gently instructing some gorgeous, yoga-loving natural blonde and the shocking jealousy that elicits, he’s also brought my unfortunate situation to the front of my mind. I’m blaming those two things for the reason I sharply reply, “No.”

“No? Why not? Frankie, if this guy shows—”

“You don’t think I’ve thought about it? I know what could happen, Oscar. Trust me when I say my very active imagination has considered it a lot.”

“Then why won’t you let me teach you? If not me, someone. Even Blake could teach you a few things that would help.”

I swallow the hundred reasons I want to blurt out, and instead, stay silent. Sure, I could tell him that the thought of anyone else touching me makes my skin crawl. That having him so close to me should have done the same, but it had the opposite effect. I could tell him that realization terrifies me, because if this guy does reappear, I’ll likely have to up and leave my life behind again. I could also explain that my brain is so overloaded from school and my clinic hours, I can’t fathom trying to learn something else, even if I recognize that it’s practical.

“Frankie,” he starts, saying my name the same way that made me cave to him before.

Only this time, I don’t.

“Thanks for the offer, Oscar, but no. You don’t have to understand, but you have to accept it.” With that, we arrive at my walkway, so I follow Brad’s lead up the path to my front door, ignoring the feeling of eyes on my back as I disengage the locks and walk inside.

Brad walks over to his water bowl and starts noisily lapping up the liquid. It’s a reminder to hydrate myself, because I was busy all day and haven’t had anything except espresso and an iced latte.

I walk toward the kitchen as I hear a slam next door. It sounded like the front door. That begs a hundred more questions. Why would he be so upset I said no? Why would he care? It’s nothing personal.

Except it’s entirely personal. If jealousy hadn’t hijacked logic, I may have said yes.

Not to mention, after hearing what he said about his aunt, I have no interest in being his pity project. He can’t hate me and try to help me at the same time just because he wants to be some kind of hero. It’s one or the other, and I’m not sure which side of the fence he’s on.

“You’re an idiot, Francesca,” I mutter.

Maybe I should ask Blake.

I shudder at the thought of him teaching me anything for several reasons. One, he is so chaotic, asking him to focus on teaching a specific thing would probably take a lot longer than necessary. Two, it’s not his hands I want touching me. It’s not him who has frustrated me within an inch of my sanity, only to prove that he’s so much more than I gave him credit for.

But for all of those reasons, I can’t take Oscar up on his offer. I’ll just keep hoping that Brad, pepper spray, and a push kick will be sufficient to protect me should the need arise.

Or better yet, hope that years of no violent encounters mean that even if my stalker reemerges, that streak continues.

Another door slams, sounding like it was from the front room of the neighbour’s house upstairs, and instantly jolts me back to reality. I didn’t even check my house when I walked in.

If I’m going to stay safe, the first thing I need to do is stop thinking about Oscar and start taking care of myself.