Chapter 6 - The Five Seconds I Wanted
I sat behind the gym on a concrete loading step.
No dramatic rain.
No sunset.
Just base traffic and the hum of an air-conditioning unit.
Ten minutes later, Mercer came outside.
I laughed.
“What part of none of you following me was confusing?”
He stopped.
“I’m not here for the old story.”
“What, then?”
“Today.”
That mattered enough that I let him stay.
He remained standing.
“Student conduct is taking statements.”
“Okay.”
“I’m being removed from instruction pending review.”
“Good.”
He nodded.
“No argument.”
I looked at him.
“What do you want?”
“To tell you what I’m putting in mine.”
“You don’t need my approval.”
“I know.”
He took a breath.
“I shoved you.”
“Yes.”
“I threw your wrap.”
“Yes.”
“I selected Boone because I thought his size would embarrass you.”
“Yes.”
“I had no instructional reason to make it public.”
“Yes.”
“I entered the mat after he failed because I was angry.”
“Yes.”
“I attempted to strike you.”
“Yes.”
He stopped.
“That’s it.”
I stared.
“No James?”
“No.”
“No Pierce?”
“No.”
“No childhood of being humiliated?”
“No.”
“Why?”
“Because none of them moved my hand today.”
Good.
Then he said:
“But you should put your part in too.”
I almost laughed.
“There it is.”
“I’m serious.”
“What part?”
“You stayed.”
That irritated me immediately.
“You shoved me.”
“Yes.”
“You challenged me.”
“Yes.”
“You tried to hit me.”
“Yes.”
“What exactly are you suggesting?”
“That you wanted the room too.”
I stopped.
Mercer saw it.
“You could’ve walked after I threw the wrap.”
“I shouldn’t have had to.”
“No.”
“Then don’t—”
“I’m not blaming you.”
He spoke carefully now.
“I’m saying when you said ‘make it five,’ you weren’t trying to leave.”
I looked away.
He was right about one thing.
That did not make the attack mutual.
It did make my motive less clean than I preferred.
When Cole called me dead weight, I thought about every time Dad told me someone would eventually try to decide what I was worth.
When Tyler stepped onto the mat, part of me wanted to beat him.
Not escape him.
Beat him.
In front of everyone.
Then when Cole came at me, I wanted him against the heavy bag.
I could defend the movements.
I could not honestly say I felt nothing.
“I wanted you embarrassed.”
Mercer nodded.
“Yes.”
“After you assaulted me.”
“Yes.”
“I’m not apologizing for defending myself.”
“I didn’t ask.”
“Good.”
He looked toward the parking lot.
“My point is your dad left you something besides technique.”
I hated that.
“What?”
“The need to make the room admit you were right.”
I stared at him.
Too close.
He continued.
“I know because he left it in me too.”
That was the first time Cole said “in me” instead of “to me.”
Different.
I looked at my hands.
Dad always said composure was power.
He rarely mentioned that composure can become performance too.
My calm voice.
My refusal to step back.
My little “make it five.”
The room laughed.
I wanted to take the laugh away.
I did.
Mercer said:
“You know what scared me after you put Tyler down?”
“What?”
“You didn’t look at him.”
I frowned.
“You looked at me.”
He was right.
Tyler had been a problem to solve.
Cole was the audience I wanted.
That sat badly.
Mercer continued.
“James used to do that.”
“Do what?”
“Beat the student while looking at the room.”
I closed my eyes.
“Great.”
“For what it’s worth, you released Tyler immediately.”
“That’s a low bar.”
“I know.”
“Cole.”
“Yeah?”
“Why did you come out here?”
He thought.
“Because if I leave it at ‘James taught me this,’ I get to be the victim right up until my hand moves.”
I nodded.
“And?”
“If you leave it at ‘Cole attacked me,’ you don’t have to ask why winning the room felt good.”
I wanted to tell him those two things were not morally equal.
They weren’t.
He knew.
I knew.
Equality was not the point.
Accuracy was.
“Fine.”
He nodded.
“Fine.”
We sat in silence.
Then Tyler came around the corner.
Of course.
Mercer muttered:
“Apparently boundaries are dead.”
Tyler stopped twenty feet away.
“Major said I could give my statement.”
“Then give it to the investigator.”
“I did.”
He looked at me.
“I wanted to say sorry.”
I waited.
He tried:
“I thought you knew what you were getting into.”
“No.”
He winced.
“Right.”
Start over.
“I wanted Mercer to think I was tough.”
Better.
“I saw him shove you and still got on the mat smiling.”
Yes.
“I thought if I made you look stupid, everybody would laugh with me.”
There it was.
“And when you put me down, I got angry because I felt stupid.”
“Yes.”
“So I was glad when he went at you.”
Mercer looked at him.
Tyler continued.
“Not after.”
“After what?”
“After I realized he was actually trying to hit her.”
Mercer looked away.
Tyler swallowed.
“I should’ve said something.”
“You were on the mat.”
“I still could’ve.”
True.
No one needed to make Tyler a mastermind.
He had followed the room.
That was enough.
I asked:
“What happens now?”
Tyler shrugged.
“Removed from combatives block for the week. Counseling. Whatever the school decides.”
Reasonable.
No football-movie punishment.
No career destruction.
Just consequence.
Mercer looked at me.
“You staying?”
“In training?”
“Yes.”
Dad had asked me the same question before I started the program.
He wanted me out.
Pierce probably wanted me to stay.
Mercer now looked like he wanted an answer for his own reasons.
I laughed.
“All of you need hobbies.”
“What?”
“I’m tired of making decisions so one of you gets proved right.”
Mercer almost smiled.
“So?”
“I’ll decide tomorrow.”
That night, Dad texted me.
One line.
You don’t owe the Army your staying.
Pierce sent nothing.
At 11:14, another message arrived.
From Dad.
You also don’t owe me your leaving.
That one took longer.
I put the phone down.
May you like
For the first time, my father had offered me something he had rarely offered anyone.
A decision he did not need to own.
