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SAM AND I started training that weekend. Sessions were broken up into morning and evening, and divided between weapons handling and hand-to-hand combat. He taught me foundational skills like assessing an opponent’s strengths and weaknesses and how to play to my own strengths while being aware of weaknesses in my defenses.
One of my aha moments came when Sam taught me to work with my opponent’s moves rather than try to block them with force. There was energy in an attack that I could use to my advantage. Learning how to guide the force of the attacker so that his body ended up in a position where I could better immobilize him was key to giving me more confidence in my abilities. Even at a rudimentary level, the art of reading the other person’s subconscious physical cues took work, but Sam was a firm taskmaster and didn’t give me any slack. I practiced over and over until identifying common initiating moves started to become second nature.
During our weapons sessions, Sam glossed over semiautomatics, AK-47s, MP5s, and Uzis, since I’d already been trained on those kinds of guns. First by my bodyguard, Eduardo, when I lived in Sonora with Salazar, and then by Quinn and his group when I joined forces with the commandoes deep in the Yucatán. Instead, we concentrated on non-traditional methods of self-defense: using a pen, a set of keys, or a telephone cord to shut down an opponent. He tested me on a person’s most vulnerable points—the groin, throat, and eyes were the best choices, followed by the wrists, instep, kidneys, and if you had enough room to make it count, the back of the knee. After training with Sam and going over what others had taught me, I felt better able to handle whatever Chacon or someone like him would try to throw my way.
When I asked him to teach me the best way to kill someone, Sam gave me a strange look and said, “We’re not doing offense. Only defense. Offense is a whole other mindset.”
“Okay, then let’s play what-if.”
Sam crossed his arms and leaned against the garage wall, where we’d been practicing throws and kicks.
“What if someone kidnaps you and leaves a note saying that the only way I’ll see you again is to come to such and such an address? What should I do then?”
Without missing a beat he said, “Call the FBI.”
I rolled my eyes. “Yes, of course, but what would you do in that situation?”
“Call the FBI.”
Shaking my head, I blew out a frustrated sigh. “You’re not going to work with me on this, are you?”
“Nope.”
Leaving it for the time being, I talked him into doing some worst-case scenarios. We continued sparring and role-playing well into the night. The more I learned, the more I wanted to try. Training made me feel powerful, like I could handle anything that came my way. Sam must have sensed it, because the holds grew more difficult to outmaneuver. More than once I ended up on my back on the mat, staring up at him, trying to catch my breath.
I got the feeling he enjoyed the training a little too much.
Sunday evening, my parents came to dinner. Maureen was subdued, and I found it easier to talk to her. Dad even noticed. He came into the kitchen to help with the dishes and joked that he didn’t know what we put in the water, but he wanted to bottle it.
“Maureen seems distracted. Is there news about Lisa?” I’d been to see my sister the day before, but it was possible something had happened since then.
Dad shook his head. “No, I think she’s just homesick. You know, all of her lady friends are back at the country club having their lunches and whatnot, and she’s been out here, tending to her daughter.” He shrugged as he dried a wine glass and put it in the cupboard. “You know how they talk, and Maureen’s not there to run interference. I’m sure the rumor mill is running amok in our absence.”
Maureen cared a lot about what everyone else thought, trying to control what was being said about the family and keeping up appearances. Not only was Lisa’s condition emotionally devastating, but the fact that her biological daughter was in intensive care because of a drug overdose had to be terribly embarrassing.
At least when I messed up, she could blame someone else’s DNA.
“It’s got to be exhausting trying to control what people know about you and your whole family. Maybe this will help her not to care so much about what people think.”
A smile tugged at his lips as he stifled a laugh. Pretty soon we were both guffawing at the thought of Maureen learning that particular lesson. When the laughter subsided, I gave my dad a big hug and a kiss on the cheek. Releasing some of the pent-up emotions I had surrounding my stepmother’s disapproval went a long way toward lowering my anxiety levels. I hadn’t felt this light since Lisa had asked if she could move in with me.
“Thank you, Dad.”
“Anytime, sugar pie.” He paused. The towel in his hands grew still.
“Looks like something’s weighing on your mind. Can I help?”
Dad frowned before he resumed drying the pan he was holding and put it on the counter. “Maureen and I are leaving the day after tomorrow.” He stared into the distance for a moment and then shook his head. “The doctor says it could be months, hell, years before Lisa comes out of the coma, if she ever does. We’ve got a life back in Minnesota, and Maureen’s not happy here.”
I knew what he was going to say next, and it twisted my insides. I didn’t want to lose the tenuous attachment I’d regained with my younger sister.
“Maureen—I mean, we, think that Lisa would do best if she was moved to a care unit in Minneapolis, close by where we can check in on her.”
Even though every cell in me wanted to protest, I realized he was right. Lisa needed to be home. Maureen and my sisters would visit her every day and give her the care she needed if she ever came back to us. It wasn’t my decision. It was never my decision.
There was no guarantee that Lisa would ever come out of the coma. Yes, if she stayed I would visit her as often as I could, and I assumed that Ian would do the same, but that wasn’t going to be enough. The finality of my father’s words hit me hard. My dream of having a normal relationship with my family evaporated.
“I understand.” I placed the last bowl into the rack and pulled the plug in the sink. The water receded, giving a final gurgle as the last of it drained out. I looked at my father. He gave me a sad smile and wrapped his arms around me in an all-encompassing hug.
“I know how much you two were looking forward to getting to know each other again.”
Hot tears brimmed in my eyes. I took a step back and wiped at them with the back of my hand.
“Aw, sweetie, you know I love you. Lisa’s going to be fine. She’ll come out of this even better than before. I promise.”
I smiled through the tears at his valiant attempt to try to make me feel better. It looked like I wasn’t the only one in denial.